Stepwork Sinks In, Slowly

"Stepwork". That's the process of using the 12 steps of OA, AA, NA, whatever 12 step program you like, to help me work out issues in my life. Sound like fun? You're right, it's not. It's tough slog, but I work the steps because I haven't otherwise learned a good way to deal with life's issues without regularly stuffing myself with food.

Lately, I've been trying to work on an issue in a relationship with a friend, and it's been interesting. I've written on it a couple of times (not here, it's too private and my emotions too strong to really be honest about them here--- yes, believe it or not, I don't post everything I think), and some revelations have come to me, particularly as I mused on step 4, the "fearless and searching moral inventory". It took a few weeks and a big food slip for me to get to this place, so it's not a quick fix. Step 4 is where I looked at the issue, who was involved, and what emotions this issue was raising . What I found was fear, and the origins of that fear, namely, how this issue sends me back to early life as an only child with an emotionally absent mother and physically absent father --- he travelled for work a lot when I was young. I also had very few friends. I was a very lonely, sad and frustrated kid.

I began to see that it wasn't so much that I was responding to a friend who I saw as abandoning me (I knew she would be away a lot when we got to know each other) as I was responding to my parents who weren't there when I needed them. Old fears were being triggered, and I was responding to those as much, if not more, than my present issue.

The other thing that came to me in the last couple of days was my part in the matter: I didn't think I had any control over how much I saw my friend, but I did. I have had opportunities to spend more time with my friend but have chosen not to for various reasons. And I didn't exactly burn up the phone lines trying to reach her. I made a few late attempts, just enough to make me feel good and smug in my victimhood. Oh dear, it's not pleasant to discover how much more comfortable it is to feel cheesed off in my default position as lonely, abandoned child victim.

I also forgot that in my life now, I have lots of friends. I am no longer that lonely child. I have many healthy relationships in the Overeaters Anonymous program, and friendships outside of the program that have been strengthened because I can work the steps rather than be a loose cannon fuelled on excess food. Then, I start feeling grateful, and a modicum of peace dawns on the horizon. Amazingly, that seems to have a fairly direct impact on my eating: I feel like I have more options, and the gnawing hunger diminishes. When I am stuck in the dead end alley of feeling used, victimized, eating seems like the only thing I can do to make myself feel better. This is a new thing, seeing how I let myself slip into that victim mode, and I'm sure it's not going to be the last time, but it's a really hopeful start. Not only can I see the importance of being more in touch with my needs and expressing them, but now I see how valuable it is to question my self image, particularly the one where I see myself as the constant victim.

Uncomfortable Emotions, Eating, and Happiness

There's an old saying that floats through the Overeaters Anonymous rooms: "It's not what you're eating, it's what's eating you", and I'm a big believer in that. I think that most of my food cravings come when I'm hurting, emotionally, or spiritually. A couple of other sayings related to that, seen on fridge magnets, are "The answer isn't in here" and "Face your stuff, or stuff your face". They all point to the importance of dealing with uncomfortable feelings so A) I feel better and B) so I don't eat. Interestingly, I only became aware recently that A) feeling better was the ultimate goal of all the therapy, support group meetings, writing and prayer that I've been doing.

Like most desperate compulsive overeaters, all I could see for the longest time was the goal of not eating like a crazy person. Only recently has it dawned on me that yes, that is a great and admirable goal, one that many of us struggle fruitlessly to achieve, but the ultimate goal is feeling whole, having a richer and fuller life, where food is not the point of living. You know, it's that eating to live, not living to eat maxim, and I think it's only starting to sink in. Obviously, I'm still having trouble with the compulsion to eat in an unhealthy manner. I was a dieter for most of my 40- some years on this planet, obsessed with losing weight, and I believed that if I could only be thin, I would be happy.

Well, if that were true, I would have been happy enough to stay thin all those times throughout my life when I had managed to lose large amounts of weight, instead of regaining the weight plus more each time. Through working the OA program and doing therapy I am now a healthy weight, but as Fran Kuffel so cleverly put it in the title of her poignant memoir Passing for Thin, I am only "passing" as a thin person. Inside I am still a compulsive overeater whose relationship with my emotions, and any sense of real hunger is tenuous at best.

Yesterday was fairly hectic, but I realized that in the light of my "binge-ette" three nights ago, I needed to spend a few minutes processing my feelings. And what I found was an old resentment that I had only partially dealt with a couple of weeks ago. So I did some writing on it, and today, I have to do some more, otherwise, I have learned at my peril, it will come back again to, frankly, bite me in the ass! Emotions are clever things, they always out. Even when I think, "I've dealt with that already!" it can come back. Just like the bhuddists say when they talk about life being not a straight line, but a spiral, where the same issues will often come back repeatedly in different guises or intensities. I guess by dealing with them, I can at least follow the spiral path, and not wear the same old circle in the grass, chasing my tail (or Oreos) over and over.

Was it a Slip or a Binge?

That's the big question for me today. But you know, it's not really important. Adding up the days of abstinence are nice, but they don't matter as much as me figuring out what happened and what I need to do avoid unhealthy actions. Two nights ago I started to eat after my husband went to bed. I justified it as a snack. But the snack did not end. I had a few almonds, and then some leftover turkey and stuffing, and then some more almonds, and some frozen chocolate, and then a slice of bread and butter. I didn't think I was bingeing but I might have been deceiving myself, because when I finally went to bed, my stomach was a little sore. The next morning, I got my usual oatmeal and looked at it and went, "ugh". I was not hungry, in fact I felt physically ill, just this side of barfy. Not a sign of culinary health.

Finally, I decided that I had broken my abstinence. My definition of abstinence is no bingeing and lately, I had narrowed it to no eating after dinner and my one or two planned snacks in the evening. So, technically, I would have broken it the moment I ate those first almonds. If I had stopped after the first handfull, I might have just given myself a pass and said, ok, that was just a slip, and not declared a break in abstinence. But the problem is, and the reason I have recently defined it so narrowly, is I have a difficult time stopping after just one bite. In fact, it feels nigh on impossible. Am I setting myself up to fail here? Am I being too black and white about it? That's a good question. I don't have a good answer. Except I do know that I did spend a lot of time "cutting myself a break" over the last couple of years, and I was gaining weight. When became more hardline on my definition of abstinence, about 5 months ago, I stopped gaining and even lost a little. And then I talked to some OA friends about it, and I went to a meeting last night. That was great. I was honest, and I heard the hope in my voice. I don't care how many days or minutes of abstinence I have, I still am WAAAAAY ahead of where I was five years ago.

There were a couple of interesting things about this break in abstinence: One, it wasn't one of my "classic" binges. The food consumed was less, and my stomach wasn't nearly as full (when I binge it usually is until I am so full I am in pain) Two, I wasn't hungry the next morning. I was really off my food. But by lunch time I was overhungry, and maybe a little hypoglycemic; I was feeling a little spacey and dizzy by the time I ate lunch. I think I was actually feeling physical effects from what I had eaten. Historically, I was so distanced from stomach & hunger cues that I can't seem to feel "true" hunger (rather than constant hunger) or anything less than greatly overfull. So, that was interesting, and maybe some progress.

But if I'm making this progress, why the binge? What happened? Well, it feels as if I was running from my feelings. I can tell right now that I'm waking up anxious. It seems I haven't been writing enough, I hadn't posted anything here for three days. I'm still feeling like a loose cannon after being sick and March break, I haven't been in the studio much at all. It all feels like my head and body aren't connected. I'm not getting the emotional/spiritual nourishment that I need. My sponsor is hard to reach, and I still have a hard time reaching out to others in the programme when I'm feeling glum, angry, whatever. Never enters my mind to call someone rather than have "just a little" nibble.

That's how it starts, with Just a little. And just a little would be fine, and I think that's where normal, non-compulsive eaters don't get those of us who can't seem to stop after just a little. They say, ok, well, have just a little, then you'll be sated, and stop. But it doesn't seem to work that way. There is a gnawing inside that instead of being calmed by a little bite, seems to wake up from a dormant state and roar for more. Either that, or it's been roaring for some time, I just don't become aware of it until I've fed it.

Anyway, I'm back on the horse, and I know I am on the right track. I'm not perfect, but I've had the true experience of another freakin' growth opportunity, and for that, I'm grateful.

One Foot in Front of the Other

Some days I don't feel like continuing, but I just keep putting one foot in front of the other, sometimes literally, say if I'm exercising or reluctantly dragging myself to exercise, or sometimes metaphorically, say, well, here. This is my personal work, and it's important, because even if not many people look at this blog, it's mainly for me. Keeping me out of the "existential angst" as a friend of mine observed this morning as the place we so often get mired up. I guess that can be seen as a possible pitfall of the "artistic" temperament. Maybe that's the problem with many of us COE's (Compulsive Over Eaters)... we're artistic temperaments caught in a world that is hopelessly wedded to the concrete.

So I gotta do the footwork, which feels like I'm humouring myself. But the alternative seems to be greater or lesser degrees of misery. So... putting it that way, if the alternative is to do some writing here, then go into the studio for a couple of hours, it seems like an ok tradeoff. So what if I'm not making much money right now? We're getting by. No cartoon today, I want to spend the time painting this afternoon. I don't think... alright, well, let me see how long it would take to post one...

And again, it takes me two hours to clean up, arrange and post a cartoon. Oh well, I still have time to get a couple hours in the studio. Enjoy...

Dealin' Wid the Feelin's

If Moses Were In OA...

Yeah, I'm just grumpy today. I was this way yesterday too. But it happens. I think I need to get back to work. The week off was nice, but I need to be working in order to feel I have some purpose. Does that make me a workaholic? Maybe. I'm certainly married to one, but mine takes a more subtle form. I don't work a lot, but I worry about it a great deal. Sounds like my perfectionism acting up. Again. Ah, the hindsight benefits of years of therapy and just over 5 years of being in Overeaters Anonymous. Oh rats! That's right, I forgot: I've been coming to the rooms 5 years the first of this month! It's been kind of like my marriage: I was never sure I'd be around this long and then I look back and marvel how it doesn't seem possible that it's been that long. It feels simultaneously as if I've been going to OA meetings forever and just a few weeks.

It was at a meeting yesterday that I remembered why OA works for me when all other things hadn't. It answered the question a sponsee posed earlier in the week. And that answer is... drumroll... spirituality. And the Group.

You were expecting bright lights, wahoo, yipee diet secrets, a burning bush, maybe? Yeah, well, that's what I was hoping for too, but no bushes are burning when I open the fridge door. I have to admit I'll still pick up the latest diet book trumpeting life changing secrets at the book store too, but usually I'll do it gingerly, read it for about half a minute and put it back with the rest, because I'm no different than most people. I'd love a quick fix that works. None has. Just look at all them books...

I am one of the last persons who wanted a spiritual program. I'm a fairly virulently lapsed Catholic, and the last thing I wanted to hear was anything resembling church talk. I am still close to agnostic, but here's what happened: I was desperate. I couldn't go three days without a binge, and I was so full of fear and angst, I could barely work. When my therapist sent me back to OA (her other choices were inpatient treatment and bariatric surgery was a very distant third in my books), I was desperate enough to think maybe, just maybe I didn't have the faintest idea what was good for me, and just trying a little faith in a higher power, might help, well, what did I have to lose? Other than the obvious 150 I so desperately wanted to lose...

I was also assured that OA was not a religion. But they do talk about God a lot. Yup. No arguments from me on that point. But it's a fairly ecumenical God, using the word as shorthand for a higher power. Twelve-step programs, originating with AA, came into being in the early part of the twentieth century between the world wars, when most Americans identified as believing in God. So, the book Alcoholics Anonymous, which still is the basic text for most 12 step groups, does mention God a lot. But after initial discomfort with it, I accepted it as a shorthand for a nebulous higher power I can feel in those moments when I plug into the universe, detaching my idea of a God/ higher power from the one I was raised with. To steal a phrase I heard in a meeting, I was able to stop thinking of God as the stereotypical old guy in a nightie, sitting on a cloud and shooting lightning bolts at me.

I just let myself give the whole God question the benefit of the doubt. Look, I'd fucked my life up pretty good here, what did I really have to lose by that? It didn't seem like a cult, because they didn't want much money, just some coins in the basket at the end of the meeting. I didn't even have to buy any of the books, I could just use the group copies or borrow someone else's to read during the meeting.

I don't think I can explain it here, at least not today. I'll take another crack at it tomorrow. I just know that even on a day, today, when I've been fairly grumpy (yeah, that again) I haven't overeaten. This afternoon Fuzz and I braved the treacherous slushy sidewalks of downtown for an afternoon walk --- the sun was wonderful --- and had coffee and split one of the world's yummiest brownies at our local young commie veggie joint.

On the way home I told Fuzz I was a bit grumpy at the thought of having what's usually an evening treat in the afternoon, kind of making me feel like there wasn't much to look forward to for the rest of the day. Then I said, well, if I really wanted, I could have some dark chocolate this evening in place of my yogurt and fruit snack. A rare exception to my rule of getting 3 fruit and 2 dairy every day. But tonight, I didn't eat the chocolate. I went for the yogurt and a banana. And it was ok. It was the healthy choice. And I don't really have a clue why I can do this now and not before. Except when I was in the meeting yesterday, I felt great. That keeps me going.

The Continuing Adventures of Fat Maggie

Well, this has been an interesting day. This has been a fairly unstructured week, as Fuzz is on March break. A couple of hours ago I was a little depressed because I felt like I wasn't accomplishing much today, but now it's nearly 6 pm and I think I maybe I needed a day of not doing much so I could clean up the cartoons above to post, and while adjusting them, I thought about how much my life has changed just from when I originally drew them in 2006.

I don't actually spend many days in bed anymore. In fact, I don't think I've done that in months. Not that there is anything wrong with that.... I still may spend the morning there, reading, having breakfast, or writing, but I don't hide there so much any more. I guess I'm dealing with life a little more. It's not perfect, but when I can stop, turn around and see where I was and where I am, there has been a definite shift. I've worked on changing and it's often little habits that I have to change: Not hanging onto grievances, letting stuff go, cutting myself a break. I'm starting to appreciate the value of being a little flaky and having a bad memory, and how strenuous physical activity can ground my brain when it just wants to float around in a worry-filled ether.

The other day a sponsee asked how I did it. She meant lose all that weight and not regain much of it. And I replied that I could be in dangerous territory again tomorrow, it's not like I suddenly got a get-off-free pass. I haven't been able to get hold of my OA sponsor to talk to her about it yet, but I did briefly touch on it with my therapist the next day. She replied that maybe I had developed a good enough appreciation for how my feelings could control my eating. Perhaps. But I am constantly in danger of forgetting that, it's a slippery one, and that selective memory is the nature of my beast. That's why I have to keep working on it, going to meetings. I think about the only way I can ensure that some things stay in the past is work on the present

Step Work Works. Dammit.

I'm not sure what happened, but yesterday went from blecch to pretty good. I did some of that step work, and not a lot, just a page or two of writing listing all the people I had resentments against. Interestingly, what came up a couple of times was I was angry with myself for letting myself down. Then I had a chat with my therapist to talk about it, those high (impossibly so) expectations I had for myself, and dealing with negative feelings. Then I had a great day: spent a couple of productive hours in the studio, went to a lecture on Rembrandt at the local university, went on a tough run, and then after dinner, gently dragged the now-on-March-Break Fuzz to see Persepolis, the movie, because I really like the graphic novels.

Dealing with the feelings is more than just finding a new coping mechanism. Coping mechanisms are like fixing a leak with a bucket. It's not a real solution, just a quick fix. Eventually the bucket overflows or drives you crazy with the dripping noise, and meanwhile, the water is rotting the ceiling and eventually you have a huge problem on your hands. I ate, still eat, to smother uncomfortable emotions, anger, fear, and even joy sometimes. But it backfires, and it inevitably gets worse.

When I first came to OA, and even for the majority of the last five years, I've thought, well, I have to deal with my feelings in order to not binge. Well, that is true, but that is not the bigger goal. My therapist suggests that The Big Magilla (I'm guessing as in the cartoon ape), is to deal with the feelings so I can be happier. Oh. Nothing to do with food. Nada. Zip. The food is just a side effect. That's a bit of a surprise, isn't it? Well, it is to a compulsive overeater.

I don't like doing step work. It wouldn't be far off to say I detest it. It's very uncomfortable, and it's hard to change the lifelong habit of seeking to blot out rather than deal with pain. But when I am finally ready to do it, it usually helps, and my mood rapidly benefits from it.

Just Call Me Craphead

I've been dealing with a lingering bad mood, a funk that flourished in the light of this virus I've been recovering from, but not recovering from fast enough for me. It's been over a week, and I'm mostly normal, but still a bit draggy. It feels like a lot of negative feelings, resentments and fears have been able to flourish because I'm not busy enough working or working out. I feel like I have a real head full of crap. Dealing with that crap without resorting to food is what I think of when well meaning professionals talk about when they mention "coping strategies" to deal with life when you're trying to survive an eating disorder. The people in OA would say "Time to do step work."

Blech. I hate stepwork, but I've gotta stop behaving like a sick person and shovel through the shit if I want to get rid of it. To paraphrase Paul Anka, "resentments, I've had a few..." Unfortunately, I can't spill them all here. Maybe some of them eventually, but it's a little too private. So I have to do that offline.

Instead, how about another installment of the Continuing Adventures of Fat Maggie...

Enough Snow, Already!

As I shovelled/chipped my way through the layers of snow, ice pellets and frozen rain, I realized I was officially sick of shovelling. It took a couple of hours for both of us to do the sidewalk, the walkway and driveway, and the snow was so hard it shattered into chunks as I chipped at it. It was kind of like shovelling blocks of wood that were either too heavy or slipped off the shovel as I tried to lift them. My shoulder hurts and I wonder if I need some physio for it. It's the same shoulder I hit when I fell off my scooter last summer.

And just yesterday I saw that guy riding the blue Vino! Sigh....at least the sun came out just before it set. And then there is daylight savings this weekend, hooray! I guess there is a light at the end of this snow tunnel. Almost nobody was working today, even Fuzz was sent home to get some much needed sleep. I took another day off on my extended sick leave from that virus, read a book for a while and then curled up with a kitty for a long nap. Those bits of winter are damn fine.

Back on My Sneakers

After spending the day waffling, I finally decided I would try running with my group, all 3 of us, last night. Thank God we were running last night when it was breezy but not too cold, and not today since the latest round of snow/ice pellets/freezing rain was unleashed upon us overnight. I was still coughing, and one of my group cracked "jeez, have ya got pleurisy?" I was coughing so much at one point, but despite the hacking and wheezing, the rest of my body felt great, and I was able to keep up and even lead the group at points. Halfway through the run I wasn't coughing much. After nearly a week of this virus making me pretty sedentary, it was really GREAT to be moving again.

It reminded me of that goofy Mel Gibson & Helen Hunt film that came out several years ago, What Women Want, I think it was, kind of a rip-off of the old Rock Hudson/Doris Day formula where a womanizing misogynist hit by lightning gains the ability to read womens' minds. Gibson plucks an idea from his ad-exec colleagues mind when they are trying to come up with a new campaign for Nike, and the tag line that stayed with me is "The road doesn't care..." As in the road doesn't care what you're wearing, how much you make, or what part is too big/too small/sagging...

When it works, running is simple. Just put one foot in front of the other. Really, so is walking. I walked several kilometers daily for years, and that was the good thing about it, just putting yourself on autopilot and going forward. Running is the same, but I think it's the intensity that hooks me. Yes, it's simple but it requires every ounce of energy, including brain space. The only thing I'm thinking is, "ok, make it to the stop sign, then we're done, oh man wanna puke, keep going, keep going just a few more steps...." and at the end I feel physically drained but mentally filled, as if mental space has been opened by the exhaustion. Maybe this is the endorphin rush, but whatever it is, everything feels quieted.

Omigod, it's an orgasm!

Maybe that thought will make the shovelling easier...

Day 126!

The Continuing Adventures of FM...

I'm just getting over a nasty virus that did the circuit of my head and chest, and I also got way too caught up with some volunteer activities this weekend that, surprise surprise, involved me organizing the food to feed 160 hungry choristers. Food ended up taking over my whole day. Well, not really. Part of the problem was I was a little too sick to sing, so maybe it was that it gave the food the opportunity to take over more than it would have otherwise. A lesson learned, or rather, RE-learned again for the hundredth time: keep the food in its proper place. That's the nature of my disease: selective amnesia.

Anyway, here's the next installment of Fat Maggie.... Our story so far: I started this in 2006 when I was suffering from a mild to moderate depression, and feeling very artistically blocked. So, I went back to the cartooning I used to do when I was a teenager, trying to combine drawing and writing a journal to help shed light on my issues. Today we have a glimpse about how hard it is to be an earnest artist trying to sell what is essentially oneself in a tough world...