- Fuzz
- warm blankets
- sunshine
- functioning car
- pumpkin color walls
- comfy kitchen chairs
- good lunch with creative friend
- my running group that gets me out even when cold
- my oa group that helps me pick up and go on
- skating buddy
- dinner for tonight already cooked
- good friend back from Mexico
- her cleaning lady
- a home mainly paid for
- my stained glass supplies turning up
- tolerant friends and family
- still hangin on
- a good therapist I've had now for over 5 years (a record)
- crazy cats
- a great neighbour and BF and her hubby and kid who keep her sane even if she doesn't think so...
16.12.08
Today's Gratitudes
I know it sounds pollyanna, but it does help me feel better. So here goes, 20 of the suckers, done in pure stream of consciousness mode:
Insidious Oblivion
Ok, it's painfully obvious that I will do many things to avoid writing about my feelings. This morning, for example, I've spent an hour on the computer tinkering with settings, browsing, reading and replying to e-mail and facebook posts, in short, anything but actually doing the kind of writing that will keep me away from the food. I was brought up short when, on the way back to the table from the loo I had a sudden urge to shave a sliver off of last night's tourtiere.
Purely for research purposes mind you, as I want to make some as christmas gifts, and had purchased a pricey boutique bakery version to study their technique (which besides the addition of a few nice spices seems to boil down to butter, butter everywhere...) Never mind the fact I had had plenty of opportunity to sample it as we had nice size slices for dinner last night. But maybe it would reveal some more secrets cold.... nope. No secrets, just guilt. But that's my disease, coming up with the most shameless hackneyed excuse for eating and then when I follow through on it, it's right there offering a heapin' helpin' o' shame.
But I'm not going to beat myself up over it. It wasn't a binge, it was a sliver. A small slip. I've got to avoid being so black and white in my thinking as in my food. Moderation. Gentleness. Tolerance. For myself and others. So... onward.
I'm feeling holiday pressure. In laws coming over on The Big Day. Eek eek EEEEEK. The last time that happened, which was jeez, over a decade ago, I panicked and cooked enough for at least 12 when there were actually only 5 of us. So this year, scaling down. I've even lucked into having my friend Carole's cleaning lady coming to clean two days before. But the house is a half painted, half renoed mess, but jeez it's so much nicer than it was. I'm paralysed trying to figure out what I should attack next, the crappy drywall in the bathroom, filling nail holes in the kitchen, trying to smooth out the kitchen ceiling... paint the stairs to cover the bare plywood, paint the front foyer and closet, the bathroom, the kitchen???? Aughhhhhhh! I went into a complete spin last week over this, went to bed, covered my head, and ate a ton. A bad binge. I'm just so lucky I had promised my buddy M a drive to the OA meeting that morning. It got me out of it.
So let's look at priorities:
Purely for research purposes mind you, as I want to make some as christmas gifts, and had purchased a pricey boutique bakery version to study their technique (which besides the addition of a few nice spices seems to boil down to butter, butter everywhere...) Never mind the fact I had had plenty of opportunity to sample it as we had nice size slices for dinner last night. But maybe it would reveal some more secrets cold.... nope. No secrets, just guilt. But that's my disease, coming up with the most shameless hackneyed excuse for eating and then when I follow through on it, it's right there offering a heapin' helpin' o' shame.
But I'm not going to beat myself up over it. It wasn't a binge, it was a sliver. A small slip. I've got to avoid being so black and white in my thinking as in my food. Moderation. Gentleness. Tolerance. For myself and others. So... onward.
I'm feeling holiday pressure. In laws coming over on The Big Day. Eek eek EEEEEK. The last time that happened, which was jeez, over a decade ago, I panicked and cooked enough for at least 12 when there were actually only 5 of us. So this year, scaling down. I've even lucked into having my friend Carole's cleaning lady coming to clean two days before. But the house is a half painted, half renoed mess, but jeez it's so much nicer than it was. I'm paralysed trying to figure out what I should attack next, the crappy drywall in the bathroom, filling nail holes in the kitchen, trying to smooth out the kitchen ceiling... paint the stairs to cover the bare plywood, paint the front foyer and closet, the bathroom, the kitchen???? Aughhhhhhh! I went into a complete spin last week over this, went to bed, covered my head, and ate a ton. A bad binge. I'm just so lucky I had promised my buddy M a drive to the OA meeting that morning. It got me out of it.
So let's look at priorities:
- Has to be being abstinent. Work my programme.
- The house needs to be reasonably clean. Yay cleaning lady!
- Work on my physical fitness this week, including running group, skating tomorrow and a trip to the gym on Friday.
- I'd like to paint in the kitchen, maybe get the cupboards and ceiling painted for once. The rest can follow later
- Put a tree up. No design questions, just put every freakin' ornament we own on the poor thing until it threatens to fall over.
- Make some tourtiere to give friends as gifts.
- Make a sensible Christmas meal, not the feast to end all feasts.
- Un-stress. Enjoy the day. Cook the damn turkey the day before.
15.12.08
An Alien Amongst You
One of the things one of my OA mentors has suggested is to reread twice daily pages 30 & 31 of the book Alcoholics Anonymous (known in our rooms simply as the "Big Book", a reference to its large bible-like size when originally published over 80 years ago). In my book, I've crossed out the references to alcohol and substituted words referring to food and compulsive overeating. Basically, the purpose of the passage is to make us realize that for us compulsive eaters, for whatever reason, be it nature or nurture or both (after years of puzzling, searching and asking professionals and getting conflicting answers I finally realize it may not really matter what the root cause is) we are somehow made differently from other people and it makes us react to food in a dysfunctional manner. I've begun to form a disease model around this tendency.
I thought I had grasped that. I thought my problem was I felt so hopeless I thought I might as well eat. But, and I've just made this connection, my original problem this last fall was complacency, as after 3+ months of a good fall where I had been doing the morning routine and life was going ok, I stopped the routine, and fell into a trap of my own construction. Or, to put it in a less self-judgmental manner, I fell into a trap of the disease's construction. Someone I quite respect who even so, half the time drives me nuts once said that her disease's most dangerous symptom is it makes her forget that she has this disease.
The forgetting makes me stop doing the things that keep me sane. I guess my disease model is of a mental disease with physical symptoms --- the compulsive bingeing.
Here's a bit of that passage as adapted for my purposes (my changed bits in italics):
Yup, I recognize the demoralization part. Maybe, just maybe, this hopelessness and worthlessness I feel hanging on to me, like a Dickensian wraith, is a disease symptom itself. I have to put that aside and believe the others that value me... I'm going to make a list to make myself remember that:
Fuzz
my studio mate who's invited me out for lunch today
people who invite me to sing with them
BF who wants us to spend xmas dinner with them
Fuzz's folks who don't understand us but want us to have dinner with them
Mary
friends in OA
other friends
ok ok, I'm worthwhile, I get it... ah, that I really believed it. Perhaps this requires the "act as if" stuff they talk about in the rooms, that if I pretend I do enough I will actually start believing it. OK ok, for today, I will act as if my life has a point.
I thought I had grasped that. I thought my problem was I felt so hopeless I thought I might as well eat. But, and I've just made this connection, my original problem this last fall was complacency, as after 3+ months of a good fall where I had been doing the morning routine and life was going ok, I stopped the routine, and fell into a trap of my own construction. Or, to put it in a less self-judgmental manner, I fell into a trap of the disease's construction. Someone I quite respect who even so, half the time drives me nuts once said that her disease's most dangerous symptom is it makes her forget that she has this disease.
The forgetting makes me stop doing the things that keep me sane. I guess my disease model is of a mental disease with physical symptoms --- the compulsive bingeing.
Here's a bit of that passage as adapted for my purposes (my changed bits in italics):
"Most of us have been unwilling to admit we were real food addicts. No person likes to think he is bodily and mentally different from others. Therefore, it is not surprising that our struggles with food
have been characterized by countless vain attempts to prove we could eat like other people. The idea that somehow, someday he will control and enjoy moderate eating is the great obsession of every abnormal eater. The persistance of this illusion is astonishing. Many pursue it into the gates of insanity or death.
We learned that we had to fully concede to our innermost selves that we were compulsive overeaters. This is the first step in recovery. The delusion that we are like other people, or presently may be, has to be smashed.
We compulsive overeaters are men and women who have lost the ability to control our eating. We know that no real food addict ever recovers control. All of us felt at times that we were regaining control, but such intervals --- usually brief ---- were inevitably followed by still less control, which led in time to pitiful and incomprehensible demoralization. We are convinced to a single soul that compulsive eaters of our type are in the grip of a progressive illness. Over any considerable period we get worse, not better.
We are like those who have lost their legs; they never grow good ones. Neither does there appear to be any kind of treatment which will make compulsive eaters of our kind like other people. We have tried every imaginable remedy. In some instances there has been brief recovery, followed always by a still worse relapse. Physicians who are familiar with eating disorders agree there is no such thing as making a normal eater out of a compulsive eater. Science may one day accomplish this, but it hasn't done so yet.
Despite all we can say, many who have eating disorders are not going to believe they are in that class. By every form of self-deception and experimentation, they will try to prove themselves exceptions to the rule, therefore non-addicted. If anyone who is showing ability to control his eating can do the right-about-face and eat like the normal person, our hats are off to them. Heaven knows, we have tried hard enough and long enough to eat like other people!
Yup, I recognize the demoralization part. Maybe, just maybe, this hopelessness and worthlessness I feel hanging on to me, like a Dickensian wraith, is a disease symptom itself. I have to put that aside and believe the others that value me... I'm going to make a list to make myself remember that:
Fuzz
my studio mate who's invited me out for lunch today
people who invite me to sing with them
BF who wants us to spend xmas dinner with them
Fuzz's folks who don't understand us but want us to have dinner with them
Mary
friends in OA
other friends
ok ok, I'm worthwhile, I get it... ah, that I really believed it. Perhaps this requires the "act as if" stuff they talk about in the rooms, that if I pretend I do enough I will actually start believing it. OK ok, for today, I will act as if my life has a point.
Coming Clean: REALLY Struggling with the Food
I'm having troubles with the food. Big surprise, I'm a compulsive overeater. It just seemed to come to a head in the last couple of weeks. This was after nearly 90 days of sanity after attending a retreat in the fall where I latched on to a morning routine to get my feelings on paper. I was feeling so good, I stopped the routine. Possibly, I fell into complacency, subconsicously believing, "well, I'm fine now...."
So I slipped. And slipped hard, with 4 no-shit episodes of binge eating over the last month, precipitated by a persistant virus/cold that really made my emotions do a nose dive. Life seemed pointless some days. As of today, I'm in my 3rd day "clean". It doesn't feel particularly hard right now, but it can turn on a dime from sane to "fuck it, I'm shit, there is no hope, and I'm going to what I want to do, which is eat". One night I was in physical pain, I had stuffed so much food down my throat. Thankfully I did not feel compelled to throw up, because I feel that bulimia is another eating disorder even more serious than bingeing.
It always starts with the emotions for me. I don't think that the base problem is food in itself. The food, bad as it is, is "merely" a symptom. That's a pretty bad symptom. So the feelings must feel pretty big. Luckily, I've been staying in close touch with a couple of women who between them must have 40 years of experience in Overeaters Anonymous. And they've been helping me through this by encouraging me to stay in contact with them and work the OA programme.
But when I am feeling vulnerable, I hate writing. So, here I am, because it seems easier to blog than write. Of course, when blogging, I wonder about a tendency to gloss things over. Well, maybe, but it's better than nothing. I can always tell myself that not many people read this anyway...
So I slipped. And slipped hard, with 4 no-shit episodes of binge eating over the last month, precipitated by a persistant virus/cold that really made my emotions do a nose dive. Life seemed pointless some days. As of today, I'm in my 3rd day "clean". It doesn't feel particularly hard right now, but it can turn on a dime from sane to "fuck it, I'm shit, there is no hope, and I'm going to what I want to do, which is eat". One night I was in physical pain, I had stuffed so much food down my throat. Thankfully I did not feel compelled to throw up, because I feel that bulimia is another eating disorder even more serious than bingeing.
It always starts with the emotions for me. I don't think that the base problem is food in itself. The food, bad as it is, is "merely" a symptom. That's a pretty bad symptom. So the feelings must feel pretty big. Luckily, I've been staying in close touch with a couple of women who between them must have 40 years of experience in Overeaters Anonymous. And they've been helping me through this by encouraging me to stay in contact with them and work the OA programme.
But when I am feeling vulnerable, I hate writing. So, here I am, because it seems easier to blog than write. Of course, when blogging, I wonder about a tendency to gloss things over. Well, maybe, but it's better than nothing. I can always tell myself that not many people read this anyway...
22.8.08
I hate running! No, I love running! No, I hate running, no wait, I love running....oh pooh on it...
Just one of the stories of my summer. I have this love-hate relationship with running. And last week I kind of hit a real bottom (like falling down the old rabbit hole) and tearfully told my coach I was quitting. He sort of talked me out of it, well, he just humoured me. I'm sure he's done it many times, but of course, I thought my misery was special. I really did do a number on myself, it was like I was 300 pounds again. It happens from time to time, I go back to that very dark place. I'll have a bad day, or a string of them, and suddenly I'm in that place where I'm a big lumpy failure.
Now, in my running group, I can safely say I am one of the slowest. We do these interval trials on a small route fairly regularly, and I'm always being passed by these younger, fitter, genetically different atheletes. And then there was the night when we did a 5 k to see how fast we could do it. I was dead last and not having fun AT ALL. It was hot and I wondered why the hell I was putting myself up for this misery. My head was throbbing and my chest couldn't get enough air.
All that was fine and good, I was within reason to be frustrated. What happened next was where maybe I crossed some sort of mental line into crazy. Emotionally, things got very, very dark. I was a loser. I couldn't do this. I quit. Give up, uncle. This life is for others, not losers like me. After the run was over, I walked to a quiet area of the park and cried for a long time, until I figured out I had marooned Fuzz at the parking lot without the car key.
I was in a bleak mood for the rest of the night. The miracle was I didn't eat over it. I had a long e-mail conversation with my coach about it, and I'm still processing it. I'm not feeling nearly so bad now, I'm back to regular running, but the whole event has been interesting as a demonstration of where my brain can go, possibly when I'm not careful about my mental hygiene. It's likely no coincidence that this happened while both my sponsor and my therapist were out of town, and I was only hitting one meeting a week due to holidays and home reno.
Now, in my running group, I can safely say I am one of the slowest. We do these interval trials on a small route fairly regularly, and I'm always being passed by these younger, fitter, genetically different atheletes. And then there was the night when we did a 5 k to see how fast we could do it. I was dead last and not having fun AT ALL. It was hot and I wondered why the hell I was putting myself up for this misery. My head was throbbing and my chest couldn't get enough air.
All that was fine and good, I was within reason to be frustrated. What happened next was where maybe I crossed some sort of mental line into crazy. Emotionally, things got very, very dark. I was a loser. I couldn't do this. I quit. Give up, uncle. This life is for others, not losers like me. After the run was over, I walked to a quiet area of the park and cried for a long time, until I figured out I had marooned Fuzz at the parking lot without the car key.
I was in a bleak mood for the rest of the night. The miracle was I didn't eat over it. I had a long e-mail conversation with my coach about it, and I'm still processing it. I'm not feeling nearly so bad now, I'm back to regular running, but the whole event has been interesting as a demonstration of where my brain can go, possibly when I'm not careful about my mental hygiene. It's likely no coincidence that this happened while both my sponsor and my therapist were out of town, and I was only hitting one meeting a week due to holidays and home reno.
20.6.08
Living with the Fear
I was finished running last night, on the way home with Fuzz and looking forward to having a dinner of excellent leftover curry, garlic broccoli and basmati rice. But I was in a funk. Why? Well, it was my non-dessert night. A while back, I decided I really did not need dessert (usually an ounce of 85% chocolate) every night, and since I'd like to be about five pounds lighter, Itried doing it just every second night. I realized I was bummed out about that. And then I thought, "How pitiful is that? Is my life so meaningless, that the highlight of my day is dessert?!" Turns out that was the least of my problems. Whether it's allergies or a cold, I spent all evening sneezing and going through wads of Kleenex. Not eating dessert was easy. Walking and talking, feeding the cats without banging into things quickly became less so. I went to bed early, comforted by reading about David Sedaris' boil.
I don't know why I'm surprised at my chocolate funk. I'm a compulsive overeater! Oh duh, that again. Someone has said that addiction (and I include food addiction in this) is the only disease whose primary symptom may be forgetting that you have the disease. Just look at my history: Food, at many, many times of my life, has been my primary occupation: getting it, making it, eating it, getting more, over and over, ad nauseum. It has only been the last five years, since being in Overeaters Anonymous and working damn hard in therapy and in support groups that I have been able to craft much of a life outside the food. So yeah, it figures that I'm bummed I'm not having dessert. As many times as I tell myself, this isn't my last supper, I will eat again, on some level I still don't believe it. I'm actually mildly surprised that for two weeks I've been able to survive every second day without it. Interestingly, there was a time I wasn't eating sweet stuff much at all, so how did chocolate become a daily thing again anyway? I think it was probably with the publication of those studies saying that extra dark chocolate might be good for you. But as a friend pointed out, if you're doing something daily, it goes from being a treat to being a lifestyle.
I've written here about my issues with the midnight nibblies. I think it becomes harder to escape the food in the evening when I'm supposed to be relaxing. During the day there's work, chores, a schedule. At night is when the greeblies come out to dance on my brain. I've been aware for sometime that I have this baseline level of unfocused fear that starts murmuring at the back of my consciousness even before I wake up. I think that has something to do with it. I talked about it to my therapist tomorrow and we discussed just being aware of it. I guess that's the first step, and therefore the first of the 12 steps could be easily applied to it: I admitted I was powerless over it and it's making my life unmanageable, or in other words, the fear makes me bummed out I'm not going to have dessert. Hm. More shall be revealed, I'm sure... My sponsor's back and there's gonna be writing...
I don't know why I'm surprised at my chocolate funk. I'm a compulsive overeater! Oh duh, that again. Someone has said that addiction (and I include food addiction in this) is the only disease whose primary symptom may be forgetting that you have the disease. Just look at my history: Food, at many, many times of my life, has been my primary occupation: getting it, making it, eating it, getting more, over and over, ad nauseum. It has only been the last five years, since being in Overeaters Anonymous and working damn hard in therapy and in support groups that I have been able to craft much of a life outside the food. So yeah, it figures that I'm bummed I'm not having dessert. As many times as I tell myself, this isn't my last supper, I will eat again, on some level I still don't believe it. I'm actually mildly surprised that for two weeks I've been able to survive every second day without it. Interestingly, there was a time I wasn't eating sweet stuff much at all, so how did chocolate become a daily thing again anyway? I think it was probably with the publication of those studies saying that extra dark chocolate might be good for you. But as a friend pointed out, if you're doing something daily, it goes from being a treat to being a lifestyle.
I've written here about my issues with the midnight nibblies. I think it becomes harder to escape the food in the evening when I'm supposed to be relaxing. During the day there's work, chores, a schedule. At night is when the greeblies come out to dance on my brain. I've been aware for sometime that I have this baseline level of unfocused fear that starts murmuring at the back of my consciousness even before I wake up. I think that has something to do with it. I talked about it to my therapist tomorrow and we discussed just being aware of it. I guess that's the first step, and therefore the first of the 12 steps could be easily applied to it: I admitted I was powerless over it and it's making my life unmanageable, or in other words, the fear makes me bummed out I'm not going to have dessert. Hm. More shall be revealed, I'm sure... My sponsor's back and there's gonna be writing...
19.6.08
It's Official: I'm a Geezer
This doesn't have anything to do with the fact that I turned 47 a couple of weeks ago.
No, what happened is, I bought a Wii a couple of months ago, and it's been fine. Cute, fun. But, not all that I had hoped. It doesn't really require much physical prowess to become a Wii bowling or tennis expert, and even the cow racing lost it's allure after a couple of weeks. I suppose I could buy some better games for it, but I've got a new interest: golf. Yes, that's right. Golf. The game of a million geezers. I know, I know, and Tiger Woods, but face it, it's like riding a Harley. It's mainly played by geezers.
I've just played a little, but now I want my own set of clubs. And noticed they had a women's set at Costco for about what I paid for the Wii. I then had the idea that selling the Wii to my neighbour would pay for the clubs.
Why does golf appeal to me more than the Wii? Well, so far, I'm finding it more fun. And actually better exercise. Outdoors. Even if it is on such neurotically groomed grass. Who can believe that stuff is actually real? It should be an offense to make grass that behaves like astroturf, Still, being outdoors for 3 hours with my friends and then dinner beats the experience on the couch hands down.
I never thought I would play golf. Just one of those new discoveries.
No, what happened is, I bought a Wii a couple of months ago, and it's been fine. Cute, fun. But, not all that I had hoped. It doesn't really require much physical prowess to become a Wii bowling or tennis expert, and even the cow racing lost it's allure after a couple of weeks. I suppose I could buy some better games for it, but I've got a new interest: golf. Yes, that's right. Golf. The game of a million geezers. I know, I know, and Tiger Woods, but face it, it's like riding a Harley. It's mainly played by geezers.
I've just played a little, but now I want my own set of clubs. And noticed they had a women's set at Costco for about what I paid for the Wii. I then had the idea that selling the Wii to my neighbour would pay for the clubs.
Why does golf appeal to me more than the Wii? Well, so far, I'm finding it more fun. And actually better exercise. Outdoors. Even if it is on such neurotically groomed grass. Who can believe that stuff is actually real? It should be an offense to make grass that behaves like astroturf, Still, being outdoors for 3 hours with my friends and then dinner beats the experience on the couch hands down.
I never thought I would play golf. Just one of those new discoveries.
9.6.08
Life is Pretty Good
Sorry I haven't been around much lately, but life has been pretty good. And I've been busy. Maybe a little too busy? Certainly I haven't had much time for introspection, but I still seem to have time to be a couch potato. This morning I'm only here is because I couldn't sleep. So, I've done laundry and had breakfast, done the e-mail, and so... it's either this or go to work. And I don't want to do that for another hour.
Interesting things I've discovered:
Doing things like planting stuff and cleaning up can actually make me feel better.
Sweating will not kill me.
It's possible to get through a night without chocolate.
I need to schedule regular appointments to talk to people in program about program. Not about golf or travel...
I might actually like golf. A brand new discovery. Mind you, at this point I haven't actually played a round, only been on the driving range.
Sometimes the easier way is ok. Not everything has to be done from scratch.
Just because I'm eating healthier, it doesn't mean meals can't sometimes be fairly quick and simple.
Every meal is not my Last Supper.
Lying on the deck with your feet in a still too-cool pool is almost as good as being in the pool.
It's never too late to go back to bed. Which is where I'm going right now.
Interesting things I've discovered:
Doing things like planting stuff and cleaning up can actually make me feel better.
Sweating will not kill me.
It's possible to get through a night without chocolate.
I need to schedule regular appointments to talk to people in program about program. Not about golf or travel...
I might actually like golf. A brand new discovery. Mind you, at this point I haven't actually played a round, only been on the driving range.
Sometimes the easier way is ok. Not everything has to be done from scratch.
Just because I'm eating healthier, it doesn't mean meals can't sometimes be fairly quick and simple.
Every meal is not my Last Supper.
Lying on the deck with your feet in a still too-cool pool is almost as good as being in the pool.
It's never too late to go back to bed. Which is where I'm going right now.
19.5.08
Coming out the Other Side
This has been an emotionally rocky month for me. I've really had this persistent malaise for most of may and it's been tough. But today, the only day that matters, I'm doing ok. Despite the fact it's a holiday Monday here in Canada (Victoria Day), I got up at the usual time and phoned my food buddy. We rarely talk about anything earthshaking, just how's your food, but it's one of those regular aspects of my OA program that I've come to rely on. It just keeps me closer to good habits, and keeps me fairly honest about my food. Nothing earth shattering, just a new, healthier habit that helps with my sanity.
Amazingly, although I've felt like utter crap some days, I haven't binged over it and I've got almost 2 months with no binge. So that's great. But if I'm going to log some serious sanity time with the food, I need to do some more footwork. Today, my mood is such that it seems possible. I've had a great week, and I think it has everything to do with the healthy relationships I've formed with the people I've met at OA. I went on my first ever organized hike with a group because of my sponsor yesterday. 10 km, which at times felt like it was 10 k straight up and then 10 k down... my toes is sore today, but we did it! Which reminds me.... I've got to phone an OA buddy. My sponsor and this woman helped me move 3 cubic yards of topsoil I had delivered this week and we're going to repeat the favour for another OA friend who's been ill and unable to work in her garden.
Ok, I've got to go, but I just wanted to check in. Later today I'll post some more. I need to do some writing about long term abstinence. I think it's needed... Today, I've got some access to joy in my heart. What a gift.
Amazingly, although I've felt like utter crap some days, I haven't binged over it and I've got almost 2 months with no binge. So that's great. But if I'm going to log some serious sanity time with the food, I need to do some more footwork. Today, my mood is such that it seems possible. I've had a great week, and I think it has everything to do with the healthy relationships I've formed with the people I've met at OA. I went on my first ever organized hike with a group because of my sponsor yesterday. 10 km, which at times felt like it was 10 k straight up and then 10 k down... my toes is sore today, but we did it! Which reminds me.... I've got to phone an OA buddy. My sponsor and this woman helped me move 3 cubic yards of topsoil I had delivered this week and we're going to repeat the favour for another OA friend who's been ill and unable to work in her garden.
Ok, I've got to go, but I just wanted to check in. Later today I'll post some more. I need to do some writing about long term abstinence. I think it's needed... Today, I've got some access to joy in my heart. What a gift.
6.5.08
This Too, However Weird, Will Pass
I need one of those countdown keychains, like the ones I saw in a Greenwich Village tchotche shop which count down the days until we are finally rid of Dubya, except I could use mine to predict when whatever snit I'm laboring under will end. Like Whateverthehellthatwas I had for the last 2 weeks: I thought I was depressed, but then I started noticing definite physical symptoms: my asthma ticked up, I was light headed and my stomach was dipsydo-ing and when I exercised I felt like I had concrete blocks tied to my shoes. Even worse, I couldn't run for long before having to find a bathroom! Embarrassing and inconvenient. Finally I just took a couple days off from the running and didn't do much except read novels. Whatever it was would just have to pass.
But I still wondered if all the symptoms were psychological in origin. Then today, BFF, my travelmate for the NYC trip two weeks ago phoned and said, "I don't know what's wrong with me, I'm just exhausted and my throat is kinda sore and I keep thinking I should be doing stuff, but everything just seems so hard right now!" DING DING DING! Ha! It's not me, it's a virus!
This week is much better, almost night versus day better. Happier, more active, running again, food is very good. Hopefully I can keep more of a long-term perspective the next time something like this happens.
But I still wondered if all the symptoms were psychological in origin. Then today, BFF, my travelmate for the NYC trip two weeks ago phoned and said, "I don't know what's wrong with me, I'm just exhausted and my throat is kinda sore and I keep thinking I should be doing stuff, but everything just seems so hard right now!" DING DING DING! Ha! It's not me, it's a virus!
This week is much better, almost night versus day better. Happier, more active, running again, food is very good. Hopefully I can keep more of a long-term perspective the next time something like this happens.
4.5.08
Suddenly, Light at the End of the Tunnel
Well, it took almost another week, but I think I'm finally out of my funk. I started coming up for air on Friday, yesterday was a normal good day, and today I feel pretty good!
It seemed to be touch and go there for a while. The food really started calling loudly. I think it was late Thursday night and I felt like I was just a hair's breadth away from a binge. There was a bagel, the last one of the dozen I lugged back from NYC, and it was calling, no actually, it was bellowing my name. I tried to remember why it is I don't binge anymore, and was coming up with nothing. Logic had left town. My prehensile Lizard Brain was completely in control. Somehow, out of the fog I managed to remember how bad I would feel the next morning. But I really wanted that bagel. But then I thought, ya know, if you pray, really give it over to God, the obsession will be lifted. So, I said a very quick prayer. I'm not sure it even had words. It was more like a thought of "OK, God, it's in your court. Take it!" And suddenly it was almost as if I had swallowed the obsession. It was gone that quickly. Lifted, bada boom bada bing! I felt great. I fixed a cup of decaf chocolate spice chai (my new favorite) and then went to bed.
I have had that miracle happen before, but not often in my five plus years working an Overeaters Anonymous program. Maybe ten times at the most. More often my food choices are more quotidian, not as strong or alarming, ie, will I have an extra piece of potato, or should I have pizza this week, and should I have another piece, that sort of thing. But it's those really strong urges to binge where I really feel like I am being kneecapped by my disease, actually it's more like being forced to my knees, because that's the position I need to get out of it.
After all, five years ago it was my inability to go more than 3 days without a good binge that forced me to seriously attempt OA for a second time after a few meetings that I had half-heartedly attempted. That and my therapist throwing up her hands, metaphorically. I think it was her desperation that really threw me for a loop. I was used to my own, but here was a gutsy smart woman who I had worked with for two years and really respected, telling me that beyond residential treatment, she didn't know what else to do.
Anyway, I can see now that Thursday night I intuitively performed the first three steps of the 12 step programme:
1)I realized that I was powerless over my craving, it was driving me nuts, aka my life is unmanageable.
2) I understood that the only hope of not throwing that bagel in the nuker and digging out the butter was to appeal to some power outside of my normal field of reference. In this case I called on God, whatever God is (still have no idea, not sure it's even important to be splitting hairs at this point - whatever it is, it's worked better than my own best efforts in the past. Three university degrees hadn't done it, I had regained gained over fifty pounds with my last cum laude.
3) I made a decision to say ask God to take my obsession.
And it was immediately gone. Before I even said anything resembling a formal prayer or supplication, I stopped salivating. A light went on, there would be no bingeing tonight. It was if my freezer had suddenly been transported to Outer Mongolia.
I still don't know exactly what happened, and will it happen next time? I don't know. I can't speak to the future, and I shouldn't. Living in the future and the past just makes me miserable anyway. So, here I am. Alive, and awed, and ready to fight another day. Something which has been reinforced is the knowledge that I need to regularly re-commit to the first three steps of the programme, they are the very basis of my recovery.
I still feel that pull back to old habits, sometimes the change feels tentative even after all these years. I guess my neural pathways may take longer to change. Or as a doctor specializing in addiction told me, he believes that the old ones never leave. They may weaken, but they are still there, dormant, waiting.
Brr. Sounds pessimistic, doesn't it? Maybe, maybe not. Vigilance may be the price I pay for liberty.
It seemed to be touch and go there for a while. The food really started calling loudly. I think it was late Thursday night and I felt like I was just a hair's breadth away from a binge. There was a bagel, the last one of the dozen I lugged back from NYC, and it was calling, no actually, it was bellowing my name. I tried to remember why it is I don't binge anymore, and was coming up with nothing. Logic had left town. My prehensile Lizard Brain was completely in control. Somehow, out of the fog I managed to remember how bad I would feel the next morning. But I really wanted that bagel. But then I thought, ya know, if you pray, really give it over to God, the obsession will be lifted. So, I said a very quick prayer. I'm not sure it even had words. It was more like a thought of "OK, God, it's in your court. Take it!" And suddenly it was almost as if I had swallowed the obsession. It was gone that quickly. Lifted, bada boom bada bing! I felt great. I fixed a cup of decaf chocolate spice chai (my new favorite) and then went to bed.
I have had that miracle happen before, but not often in my five plus years working an Overeaters Anonymous program. Maybe ten times at the most. More often my food choices are more quotidian, not as strong or alarming, ie, will I have an extra piece of potato, or should I have pizza this week, and should I have another piece, that sort of thing. But it's those really strong urges to binge where I really feel like I am being kneecapped by my disease, actually it's more like being forced to my knees, because that's the position I need to get out of it.
After all, five years ago it was my inability to go more than 3 days without a good binge that forced me to seriously attempt OA for a second time after a few meetings that I had half-heartedly attempted. That and my therapist throwing up her hands, metaphorically. I think it was her desperation that really threw me for a loop. I was used to my own, but here was a gutsy smart woman who I had worked with for two years and really respected, telling me that beyond residential treatment, she didn't know what else to do.
Anyway, I can see now that Thursday night I intuitively performed the first three steps of the 12 step programme:
1)I realized that I was powerless over my craving, it was driving me nuts, aka my life is unmanageable.
2) I understood that the only hope of not throwing that bagel in the nuker and digging out the butter was to appeal to some power outside of my normal field of reference. In this case I called on God, whatever God is (still have no idea, not sure it's even important to be splitting hairs at this point - whatever it is, it's worked better than my own best efforts in the past. Three university degrees hadn't done it, I had regained gained over fifty pounds with my last cum laude.
3) I made a decision to say ask God to take my obsession.
And it was immediately gone. Before I even said anything resembling a formal prayer or supplication, I stopped salivating. A light went on, there would be no bingeing tonight. It was if my freezer had suddenly been transported to Outer Mongolia.
I still don't know exactly what happened, and will it happen next time? I don't know. I can't speak to the future, and I shouldn't. Living in the future and the past just makes me miserable anyway. So, here I am. Alive, and awed, and ready to fight another day. Something which has been reinforced is the knowledge that I need to regularly re-commit to the first three steps of the programme, they are the very basis of my recovery.
I still feel that pull back to old habits, sometimes the change feels tentative even after all these years. I guess my neural pathways may take longer to change. Or as a doctor specializing in addiction told me, he believes that the old ones never leave. They may weaken, but they are still there, dormant, waiting.
Brr. Sounds pessimistic, doesn't it? Maybe, maybe not. Vigilance may be the price I pay for liberty.
27.4.08
Painful Honesty Ain't
Awww, do I have to? Ugh, this is gonna hurt!
Actually, I'm not sure it's going to hurt. In fact, I'm fairly sure it's not. But that is my first impulse, where my thinking goes when my switch flips and thinking becomes painful. I've spent the last 4 days feeling really bad. It happens sometimes when I return from a trip, particularly one to NYC where I just get completely overstimulated and turned on by all the art and the riches of what is available to a casual visitor. So, my brain flips out and says, "Overload overload! Shut down, shut down, NOW!"
So I did. Spent a lot of time trying to sleep. Just completely overwhelmed. How was my food... ehhhh.... not bad... I wasn't getting much exercise but I ate as if I was, so more than I needed, but I didn't binge. So I guess I should be grateful for that. I ate fairly normally. Time was, I couldn't go more than 3 days without a binge. All I did this time was have my usual evening dessert without going to the gym that day. I guess I'll survive... Wow. I really do sound sad. Ok, times like this I need to be grateful that even if my food didn't feel overly "clean". I hate that term. It attempts to polarize food, and food is impossible to completely catagorize into clean or "unclean". That kind of thinking is too much like an anorexic obsession, (ie cheese is evil, lettuce is good) and it doesn't work.
Luckily, there were a few things that got me out of bed. My choir. A board meeting. My running group (all 2 or three of us, doesn't matter, got me going). And Fuzz finally returned from his business trip, so that helped. It wasn't just me and the cats. So, it's been tough, but it's improving. It shows me that I need structure to get me out of these funks. That is where my job as an artist hasn't been particularly helpful. Nobody yells at me if I don't show up at the studio. I just don't produce. And a great deal of shame wells up in my breast. Actually, I think it wells up in my stomach, and then I eat to soothe.
AGAIN, I find myself having difficulty with night time eating. You may remember that I had declared a moratorium from eating besides 2 designated snacks after dinner. It was successful, and then, I guess I became complacent. Decided that it was ok, I could just nibble on healthy stuff. Carrots, cucumber. And again the obsession has returned, and more food has been creeping in: a little hummus, some leftover veggie curry, and cheese.. When it starts looking like another meal, not just a snack, I think, hmm... that's not looking too good.
I think I have a fear of not being able to eat again this day. Every meal feels like the Last Supper, and I guess then every snack feels like The Last Snack. It seems to be a fear of not getting enough. Enough. I think that is a metaphor for the rest of my non-food life. Somewhere, sometime, I didn't get enough. And it got translated into food. I was actually happier when I wasn't eating in the evening. After some initial discomfort, and fear, the obsession faded, and I did something else. So maybe I need to recommit to that.
As for today, as they constantly remind us, that is what we have, today. I have today. And since it is Sunday, it stretches out in front of me, full of promise, and menace. What is it about my disease that a stretch of unstructured time feels bad? I look forward to it, but I hate it. I think it has something to do with the time filling up with "shoulds". I should do this, I should be doing that, I should be stenciling the driveway. And then it looks impossible. So much housework, yardwork, paperwork, it all seems ovewhelming. And then I shut down.
It is only when I can focus down a bit, and actually attempt the things that will make me feel better, do I feel capable of functioning. Housework, for instance. It overwhelms me, but if I take just a bit of it---putting away a little laundry, or just sweeping up the worst of the crud on the kitchen floor, I feel better. So I can take it on. And inevitably, I do a little more than I thought I could accomplish. And I do feel better.
Only by taking my day down to more manageable bites, do I seem able to get through it. And like everything in my life, when my day seems more manageable, so does my food.
Ugh. Thunk. Get up again. Ugh. Thunk. Keep going. I think it gets better. If I'm honest and look at my past 5 years working the OA program in my imperfect yet very human way, I do see that things have improved greatly. 5 years ago, obese and miserable. Now, not obese and usually not miserable, but it takes work.
Actually, I'm not sure it's going to hurt. In fact, I'm fairly sure it's not. But that is my first impulse, where my thinking goes when my switch flips and thinking becomes painful. I've spent the last 4 days feeling really bad. It happens sometimes when I return from a trip, particularly one to NYC where I just get completely overstimulated and turned on by all the art and the riches of what is available to a casual visitor. So, my brain flips out and says, "Overload overload! Shut down, shut down, NOW!"
So I did. Spent a lot of time trying to sleep. Just completely overwhelmed. How was my food... ehhhh.... not bad... I wasn't getting much exercise but I ate as if I was, so more than I needed, but I didn't binge. So I guess I should be grateful for that. I ate fairly normally. Time was, I couldn't go more than 3 days without a binge. All I did this time was have my usual evening dessert without going to the gym that day. I guess I'll survive... Wow. I really do sound sad. Ok, times like this I need to be grateful that even if my food didn't feel overly "clean". I hate that term. It attempts to polarize food, and food is impossible to completely catagorize into clean or "unclean". That kind of thinking is too much like an anorexic obsession, (ie cheese is evil, lettuce is good) and it doesn't work.
Luckily, there were a few things that got me out of bed. My choir. A board meeting. My running group (all 2 or three of us, doesn't matter, got me going). And Fuzz finally returned from his business trip, so that helped. It wasn't just me and the cats. So, it's been tough, but it's improving. It shows me that I need structure to get me out of these funks. That is where my job as an artist hasn't been particularly helpful. Nobody yells at me if I don't show up at the studio. I just don't produce. And a great deal of shame wells up in my breast. Actually, I think it wells up in my stomach, and then I eat to soothe.
AGAIN, I find myself having difficulty with night time eating. You may remember that I had declared a moratorium from eating besides 2 designated snacks after dinner. It was successful, and then, I guess I became complacent. Decided that it was ok, I could just nibble on healthy stuff. Carrots, cucumber. And again the obsession has returned, and more food has been creeping in: a little hummus, some leftover veggie curry, and cheese.. When it starts looking like another meal, not just a snack, I think, hmm... that's not looking too good.
I think I have a fear of not being able to eat again this day. Every meal feels like the Last Supper, and I guess then every snack feels like The Last Snack. It seems to be a fear of not getting enough. Enough. I think that is a metaphor for the rest of my non-food life. Somewhere, sometime, I didn't get enough. And it got translated into food. I was actually happier when I wasn't eating in the evening. After some initial discomfort, and fear, the obsession faded, and I did something else. So maybe I need to recommit to that.
As for today, as they constantly remind us, that is what we have, today. I have today. And since it is Sunday, it stretches out in front of me, full of promise, and menace. What is it about my disease that a stretch of unstructured time feels bad? I look forward to it, but I hate it. I think it has something to do with the time filling up with "shoulds". I should do this, I should be doing that, I should be stenciling the driveway. And then it looks impossible. So much housework, yardwork, paperwork, it all seems ovewhelming. And then I shut down.
It is only when I can focus down a bit, and actually attempt the things that will make me feel better, do I feel capable of functioning. Housework, for instance. It overwhelms me, but if I take just a bit of it---putting away a little laundry, or just sweeping up the worst of the crud on the kitchen floor, I feel better. So I can take it on. And inevitably, I do a little more than I thought I could accomplish. And I do feel better.
Only by taking my day down to more manageable bites, do I seem able to get through it. And like everything in my life, when my day seems more manageable, so does my food.
Ugh. Thunk. Get up again. Ugh. Thunk. Keep going. I think it gets better. If I'm honest and look at my past 5 years working the OA program in my imperfect yet very human way, I do see that things have improved greatly. 5 years ago, obese and miserable. Now, not obese and usually not miserable, but it takes work.
22.4.08
Fatgrrl's Back and There's Gonna Be Laundry
Back from a long weekend in NYC with BFF! What a great weekend! Despite fears of Papal traffic issues--- I didn't know that the Pope was visiting that same weekend, or I might have made reservations for a different weekend --- we had no issues with the dreaded "frozen zones" and enjoyed lovely weather for our visit to stores (oh so many more than we had planned), museums (The Met, the Morgan and the Neue Galerie) Central Park and a stroll over the Brooklyn bridge, avoiding being whacked by telephoto-wielding tourists and Italian MTV hacks for a pilgrimage to my favorite restaurant: Grimaldi's. Yes, deafening, no reservations, no plastic, waiters that act like they work for the Russian mob, having to sit half an inch from the table next to you, that Grimaldi's. I guess there's no better proof that I'm still obsessed with food if I still do all that for the perfect slice.
Travelling and food is always a challenge. You can't get what you usually eat, so you improvise, with mixed results. We did have a kitchenette in our hotel room this trip which was worth it because we could make our own toast and coffee in the mornings and keep fruit, carrots and cheese, which at least one of our meals consisted mainly of, supplemented by local bagels. But when we did eat out, we didn't always make the best choices, not so much by ordering the wrong stuff, after all we actually ate at Whole Foods--- twice! But even though we were good about getting our veggies, I think we still had some portion inflation trouble. Nothing huge, but when my eating gremlin gets a little extra food, it just wants the party to keep going.
So, now I'm home, and I have to get some groceries because there's not much in the fruit and veg department in the house. Not to mention skim milk. I've had an abstinent lunch, a bagel, some cheese and turnip sticks and a couple of Tb of roasted sunflower seeds. But my demon wants more. It's a challenge, and Fuzz is taking off himself for a few days for a conference, so I'll be alone with my demon. Well, I don't have to be. In fact, the next few days are fairly busy in the evenings, with my running group, an OA meeting, choir rehearsal, more running, and a board meeting. So, my job is to get enough vegetables for nutritious meals, and deal with life rather than eating over it.
Because the food is often just a tool of obliteration. It's my method of self-soothing, or smothering my fear and anxiety. One thing I have to do is be vigilant about this technique which can so easily go awry. One simple technique is to replace the old old habit of bedtime eating with a hot beverage before bed. I've found a big cup of decaf chai gives me a comforting satiety but is not eating as such. And because it's not eating, it doesn't quite feel as satisfying, but it's better for me, and by continuing the habit, it becomes more permanent and replaces the less safe behaviour.
Travelling and food is always a challenge. You can't get what you usually eat, so you improvise, with mixed results. We did have a kitchenette in our hotel room this trip which was worth it because we could make our own toast and coffee in the mornings and keep fruit, carrots and cheese, which at least one of our meals consisted mainly of, supplemented by local bagels. But when we did eat out, we didn't always make the best choices, not so much by ordering the wrong stuff, after all we actually ate at Whole Foods--- twice! But even though we were good about getting our veggies, I think we still had some portion inflation trouble. Nothing huge, but when my eating gremlin gets a little extra food, it just wants the party to keep going.
So, now I'm home, and I have to get some groceries because there's not much in the fruit and veg department in the house. Not to mention skim milk. I've had an abstinent lunch, a bagel, some cheese and turnip sticks and a couple of Tb of roasted sunflower seeds. But my demon wants more. It's a challenge, and Fuzz is taking off himself for a few days for a conference, so I'll be alone with my demon. Well, I don't have to be. In fact, the next few days are fairly busy in the evenings, with my running group, an OA meeting, choir rehearsal, more running, and a board meeting. So, my job is to get enough vegetables for nutritious meals, and deal with life rather than eating over it.
Because the food is often just a tool of obliteration. It's my method of self-soothing, or smothering my fear and anxiety. One thing I have to do is be vigilant about this technique which can so easily go awry. One simple technique is to replace the old old habit of bedtime eating with a hot beverage before bed. I've found a big cup of decaf chai gives me a comforting satiety but is not eating as such. And because it's not eating, it doesn't quite feel as satisfying, but it's better for me, and by continuing the habit, it becomes more permanent and replaces the less safe behaviour.
15.4.08
Grateful Despite Myself
I have a friend in Overeaters Anonymous who writes a fairly regular (maybe daily) gratitude list. It helps with complacency and maybe I should give it a try today. Let's try 5 things, just random stuff off the top of my head:
I'm grateful that Fuzz is taking care of himself enough to decide he needed a day off from work. The poor guy is upstairs in bed, he's exhausted.
I'm grateful for the woodpecker at the birdfeeder.
I'm grateful that rather than going to the gym last night for an hour and a half, I gave my sore muscles a break and spent the evening at home making my environment a happier place to be in: cleaning the butcher block of all the stray mail and detritus that gathers there, sorting out some papers, testing out paint samples for the kitchen, putting away shoes, just some tidying. It felt good.
I'm grateful for my studio downtown where I can do my messy work and I don't have to worry much about what I splatter or spill or stink up.
I'm grateful for my studio mate, J. She's very easy to get along with. My biggest worry with her is I've taken over too much of the space, but she doesn't seem to mind.
I'm also grateful that all the studios in our building are now occupied, hopefully keeping the landlord content and unlikely to kick us out for renovation anytime soon.
I'm grateful that I'm finally getting the knack of the Corel Painter program. I started using the Perspective tool yesterday. Handy!
Cool. That's six. Good enough Aha, there goes my Perfectionista: " Hmph! If you were really grateful, you'd do ten!" Oh, shut up.
I'm wondering what I am doing today that is fun? Well, going to the studio could be fun. But not that fun. Perspective is not fun, but it is satisfying when I can look at my finished paintings and enjoy that the perspective of the background works rather than detracts from the other stuff I find more important. Speaking of which, I think I'm going to work on that perspective now. Wow, I'm excited about perspective. Who knew?!
I'm grateful that Fuzz is taking care of himself enough to decide he needed a day off from work. The poor guy is upstairs in bed, he's exhausted.
I'm grateful for the woodpecker at the birdfeeder.
I'm grateful that rather than going to the gym last night for an hour and a half, I gave my sore muscles a break and spent the evening at home making my environment a happier place to be in: cleaning the butcher block of all the stray mail and detritus that gathers there, sorting out some papers, testing out paint samples for the kitchen, putting away shoes, just some tidying. It felt good.
I'm grateful for my studio downtown where I can do my messy work and I don't have to worry much about what I splatter or spill or stink up.
I'm grateful for my studio mate, J. She's very easy to get along with. My biggest worry with her is I've taken over too much of the space, but she doesn't seem to mind.
I'm also grateful that all the studios in our building are now occupied, hopefully keeping the landlord content and unlikely to kick us out for renovation anytime soon.
I'm grateful that I'm finally getting the knack of the Corel Painter program. I started using the Perspective tool yesterday. Handy!
Cool. That's six. Good enough Aha, there goes my Perfectionista: " Hmph! If you were really grateful, you'd do ten!" Oh, shut up.
I'm wondering what I am doing today that is fun? Well, going to the studio could be fun. But not that fun. Perspective is not fun, but it is satisfying when I can look at my finished paintings and enjoy that the perspective of the background works rather than detracts from the other stuff I find more important. Speaking of which, I think I'm going to work on that perspective now. Wow, I'm excited about perspective. Who knew?!
14.4.08
I Only Look Fixed
Wow, what a sucky morning. I did not didnotdidnot want to get up. At nine I turned on the bedside radio to try to get me into a state where I did. By ten I did rise, probably because I wanted my wonderful morning oatmeal. God, I love my oatmeal. I use steel cut oats, it makes all the difference in the world. No mush, more a consistency of brown rice, but better because it also has crunchy slivered almonds, raisins, dried cranberries, a bit of cinnamon and cloves and a good dose of ground cardamom. Yummmo. I've eaten it almost every day now for over two years, it's that good. I've even taken it camping and dried on road trips to cook up in a hotel room microwave... hmmm... note to self, maybe want to take it on my trip to NYC this week...
Anyway, food will get me out of bed where other things won't. I only look like I'm not a compulsive overater, but I still get crazy about food. And that tells me that I've still got this disease. And lately, I've been waking up miserable, but I can't quite put my finger on why I'm feeling so miserable. I've had a lot of "shoulds" floating through my brain. It may not be the things I'm "shoulding" myself about that are making me miserable, I think it's the "shoulding" that is making me miserable. Or in other words, it's those feelings of being overwhelmed, shame at being the imperfect being that I am, not the jobs themselves making me feel bad.
So I wake up with that damn shame. Well, I guess this is A JOB FOR CAPTAIN STEPWORK! (cue trumpet fanfare). Rats, no trumpets. Just a response of "oh, ugh, that..." Yup, seems like the only hope for cure from misery is to pick at that scab. No, it's worse than picking, it's all out surgery I'm performing on my psyche when I do stepwork. That's why I loooooove it so. But my only alternative is more misery. So, it looks like I really don't have a choice... but I do:
In step 1 I admit that I am powerless over food. Almost forty years of the fruitless diet & binge cycle finally convinced me of that. In steps 2 and 3 I decided to try the idea that there was a power outside my consciousness that might be able to help me and chose to reach out for it. Lo and behold, it actually started to work. I still am not able to pinpoint the exact moment it started, I just remember a point in early recovery where it dawned that if I could tap into this group of people who seemed to be having success and whatever power keeps the sun coming up in the morning (despite what seem like our best efforts to prevent that) it might work better than what I'd been doing to myself for so many years.
In "working the steps" I'm trying to bring this approach to the mental undertow that threatens to suck me under, for the main reason that I know that all turmoil in my head takes me back to the food. After five years in OA, I still don't think that working the steps is magic, or quick cure from God. I'm still enough of an agnostic to think that stepwork may just be really a handy system for examining what is driving me nuts: fluffing up my mental compost pile so it stops driving me so nutty with its stink, much as I do when I talk to my therapist weekly. It's sort of DIY talk therapy but it's writing.
Then there is step 5 when you share it. Just like I share my thoughts with my shrink. She helps me examine the thoughts, turn them over, fact check, look at how they fit with my present reality, or maybe where I was when they were appropriate if they don't seem to fit my life today. Which is where I think a lot of my crazy thoughts originated: in my crazy past with my workaholic, alcoholic, frightened family.
So, enough explaining, maybe look at this shame and actually work on it a bit. You know, I'm going to do that offline, because I can just do stream of consciousness writing, and then share what parts I'm comfortable sharing here, or with my sponsor, therapist, or whomever. Interestingly, I've been having some issues with my sponsor lately (she is human, and so am I), which I have not shared with her. I've been talking to my therapist about them, and I may eventually share them with my sponsor too, but that comes later. First I have to write. Dammit! Alright, alright, I'm going...
Postscript: I've done less than a page of writing, and already I'm feeling better. A couple of things have come up: I'm starting to see how I learned powerlessness growing up, and how I'm carrying that into my adult life in my day to day actions (feeling like I have to do it all, NOW and perfectly) and in being very passive, avoiding asking for what I need. I'd write more but I'm meeting with said sponsor for a nosh and need to get dressed and pack my lunch. This is really interesting to see working, for what I'm seeing is some evidence that I can change. And that's very hopeful. TTYS.
Anyway, food will get me out of bed where other things won't. I only look like I'm not a compulsive overater, but I still get crazy about food. And that tells me that I've still got this disease. And lately, I've been waking up miserable, but I can't quite put my finger on why I'm feeling so miserable. I've had a lot of "shoulds" floating through my brain. It may not be the things I'm "shoulding" myself about that are making me miserable, I think it's the "shoulding" that is making me miserable. Or in other words, it's those feelings of being overwhelmed, shame at being the imperfect being that I am, not the jobs themselves making me feel bad.
So I wake up with that damn shame. Well, I guess this is A JOB FOR CAPTAIN STEPWORK! (cue trumpet fanfare). Rats, no trumpets. Just a response of "oh, ugh, that..." Yup, seems like the only hope for cure from misery is to pick at that scab. No, it's worse than picking, it's all out surgery I'm performing on my psyche when I do stepwork. That's why I loooooove it so. But my only alternative is more misery. So, it looks like I really don't have a choice... but I do:
In step 1 I admit that I am powerless over food. Almost forty years of the fruitless diet & binge cycle finally convinced me of that. In steps 2 and 3 I decided to try the idea that there was a power outside my consciousness that might be able to help me and chose to reach out for it. Lo and behold, it actually started to work. I still am not able to pinpoint the exact moment it started, I just remember a point in early recovery where it dawned that if I could tap into this group of people who seemed to be having success and whatever power keeps the sun coming up in the morning (despite what seem like our best efforts to prevent that) it might work better than what I'd been doing to myself for so many years.
In "working the steps" I'm trying to bring this approach to the mental undertow that threatens to suck me under, for the main reason that I know that all turmoil in my head takes me back to the food. After five years in OA, I still don't think that working the steps is magic, or quick cure from God. I'm still enough of an agnostic to think that stepwork may just be really a handy system for examining what is driving me nuts: fluffing up my mental compost pile so it stops driving me so nutty with its stink, much as I do when I talk to my therapist weekly. It's sort of DIY talk therapy but it's writing.
Then there is step 5 when you share it. Just like I share my thoughts with my shrink. She helps me examine the thoughts, turn them over, fact check, look at how they fit with my present reality, or maybe where I was when they were appropriate if they don't seem to fit my life today. Which is where I think a lot of my crazy thoughts originated: in my crazy past with my workaholic, alcoholic, frightened family.
So, enough explaining, maybe look at this shame and actually work on it a bit. You know, I'm going to do that offline, because I can just do stream of consciousness writing, and then share what parts I'm comfortable sharing here, or with my sponsor, therapist, or whomever. Interestingly, I've been having some issues with my sponsor lately (she is human, and so am I), which I have not shared with her. I've been talking to my therapist about them, and I may eventually share them with my sponsor too, but that comes later. First I have to write. Dammit! Alright, alright, I'm going...
Postscript: I've done less than a page of writing, and already I'm feeling better. A couple of things have come up: I'm starting to see how I learned powerlessness growing up, and how I'm carrying that into my adult life in my day to day actions (feeling like I have to do it all, NOW and perfectly) and in being very passive, avoiding asking for what I need. I'd write more but I'm meeting with said sponsor for a nosh and need to get dressed and pack my lunch. This is really interesting to see working, for what I'm seeing is some evidence that I can change. And that's very hopeful. TTYS.
11.4.08
My Hungry Ghost
I had a devil of a time getting my butt out of bed this morning. It could be an easy day, I have absolutely nothing scheduled. But when I have an unscheduled day, it seems to be hijacked by my "shoulds" and I feel like crap. I finally struggled to life while half listening (& half snoozing) to a radio interview with the doctor and writer Gabor Mate. He works with addicts in Vancouver, and they also interviewed residents and other staff at a residential hotel for addicts and street people. I woke up when I heard the phrase "step work" and it piqued my attention, because I thought, "Hm, I feel like crap, I should be doing step work." More shoulds but maybe it's true.
I listened to Dr. Mate talk about his idea that the addict is trying to self soothe. I know that feeling, the one that thinks, if I can just eat this, buy this, get this, do this I will feel better. And it works. For about 2 seconds. And then it starts over again. He uses the Bhuddist concept (again with those Bhuddists!) of the hungry ghost that can never be sated. As a compulsive eater, I can certainly identify with that. Dr. Mate also talked about the complicated trail of genetics and early experience that sets us up to be addicts (of substances or of behaviours), that brain scans show that our brains have been definitely altered, and maybe that alteration was not due to the addiction, but actually caused the addiction. I don't know if it has been done, but it would be interesting to see any study of random images to see if it were possible to predict who would become an addict.
His book is called "In the Realm of the Hungry Ghosts" and I plan to pick one up. Maybe I should do it today. It might inspire me. I need something, I feel like a total lump. Ok, get dressed, get out into the rain, pick up a couple of things, and get into the studio. I'll feel better then. I hope. I'm trying to self soothe, but it's tough.
I listened to Dr. Mate talk about his idea that the addict is trying to self soothe. I know that feeling, the one that thinks, if I can just eat this, buy this, get this, do this I will feel better. And it works. For about 2 seconds. And then it starts over again. He uses the Bhuddist concept (again with those Bhuddists!) of the hungry ghost that can never be sated. As a compulsive eater, I can certainly identify with that. Dr. Mate also talked about the complicated trail of genetics and early experience that sets us up to be addicts (of substances or of behaviours), that brain scans show that our brains have been definitely altered, and maybe that alteration was not due to the addiction, but actually caused the addiction. I don't know if it has been done, but it would be interesting to see any study of random images to see if it were possible to predict who would become an addict.
His book is called "In the Realm of the Hungry Ghosts" and I plan to pick one up. Maybe I should do it today. It might inspire me. I need something, I feel like a total lump. Ok, get dressed, get out into the rain, pick up a couple of things, and get into the studio. I'll feel better then. I hope. I'm trying to self soothe, but it's tough.
10.4.08
These Good Times are Hard on Me
I went to bed last night and my brain was just spinning. Monkey mind, a 12-step friend calls it, although I think she got the term from Bhuddists trying to calm their minds in meditation. So, I did my version of meditation. I silently repeated the Serenity Prayer over and over until I went to sleep, which felt like an hour, but I doubt it was more than fifteen minutes. I had had a great couple of days --- I drove to Toronto to meet up with Fuzz where he was at a conference. We had a great thali at our favorite Indian dive (decor by MacDonalds, food by Delhi) and then a concert by the Finnish acapella group Rajaton --- wow! We stayed at Fuzz's hotel overnight and when he returned to his meetings, I continued the Scandinavian theme and took off for Ikea and spent a great morning buying baskets, rugs and hooks and a big new hutch for our kitchen. Then I drove home at breakneck speed for our choir rehearsal which went really well (unlike last week --- that was the topic of the last post) and I felt good.
Of course, travelling I ate a little too much and I had a really rich brownie at the social after the rehearsal. The sad thing was I was talking with another painter at the same time so I didn't even taste the brownie. I really regretted that. It was a good brownie but I just inhaled it.
I think there was a fair bit of subconscious anxiety going on though. And it made me wonder what was going on, as it seems to fuel my compulsion to overeat. I went to bed although I wasn't very sleepy, but it was self defense; I knew that staying up later would be dangerous, food wise. Which explains a bit of the monkey mind.
For some reason what floated into my mind when preparing for bed was an image from over a quarter century in the past: I was a junior in high school and had a part in a play, and I remember buying a box of crackers and eating a lot of them, in secret. It was a very happy time (I loved acting) but I know there was a lot of social anxiety on my part as most of the other actors were older than me and I really felt the odd girl out. It seems like performance, acting, or singing, activities which I love, also raises big worries ... the old Sally Field thing: "You love me, you really love me!!!" But there's also the worry that maybe people are looking at me, silently mocking me, or even worse, thinking me too proud and despising me for it. In other words, I'm being uppity and I'm going to get my comeuppance.
Hm. That's interesting. I think that can explain that tendency to overeat when things are going well. At least on the surface, they are going well, but underneath, like a cold stream flowing through my veins (or at least my digestive tract) is that anxiety. I'm not sure what, if anything I can do about that beyond doing what my therapist (and a meditation teacher I once had) suggests, but just notice it. Honour that I have that feeling. And then let it go. It will return, I'm sure, but I think the awareness of it alone robs it of some of the power to control me.
Of course, travelling I ate a little too much and I had a really rich brownie at the social after the rehearsal. The sad thing was I was talking with another painter at the same time so I didn't even taste the brownie. I really regretted that. It was a good brownie but I just inhaled it.
I think there was a fair bit of subconscious anxiety going on though. And it made me wonder what was going on, as it seems to fuel my compulsion to overeat. I went to bed although I wasn't very sleepy, but it was self defense; I knew that staying up later would be dangerous, food wise. Which explains a bit of the monkey mind.
For some reason what floated into my mind when preparing for bed was an image from over a quarter century in the past: I was a junior in high school and had a part in a play, and I remember buying a box of crackers and eating a lot of them, in secret. It was a very happy time (I loved acting) but I know there was a lot of social anxiety on my part as most of the other actors were older than me and I really felt the odd girl out. It seems like performance, acting, or singing, activities which I love, also raises big worries ... the old Sally Field thing: "You love me, you really love me!!!" But there's also the worry that maybe people are looking at me, silently mocking me, or even worse, thinking me too proud and despising me for it. In other words, I'm being uppity and I'm going to get my comeuppance.
Hm. That's interesting. I think that can explain that tendency to overeat when things are going well. At least on the surface, they are going well, but underneath, like a cold stream flowing through my veins (or at least my digestive tract) is that anxiety. I'm not sure what, if anything I can do about that beyond doing what my therapist (and a meditation teacher I once had) suggests, but just notice it. Honour that I have that feeling. And then let it go. It will return, I'm sure, but I think the awareness of it alone robs it of some of the power to control me.
3.4.08
Skinless
I felt very raw yesterday, as if I had no skin, and every activity felt like I was getting a pin stuck into me. The day didn't go all that well initially, involving some plumbing problems that ended with water coming through the light fixtures on the floor below. Shit happens, and plumbing follows. At least the flood was clean water. As a result, my plans for the afternoon did go pretty much awry, but at least I got an hour and a half in the studio. Then there was choir practice, and I felt raw again, because there were issues that as a board member I got stuck in the middle of. Or rather, perhaps I stuck myself in the middle. There are many board members, but I think I made it my responsibility to deal with some issues, and then I felt overtaxed.
Oh well, at least I got reimbursed for some expenditures I had made, that should help with the plumbing expenses. But by the time I got home last night, I felt wilted, bagged. And I ate a big heaping bowl of coleslaw. Lowfat coleslaw, but just the same, an odd choice for 10 pm. Then I had my regular chocolate and decaf, and I felt full, and sheepish, but I had to admit, I still felt just like one big raw nerve. I comforted myself a bit by wimpering pitifully and leaning on Fuzz's back while he brushed his teeth, making comforting sounds, and that felt better. It would be good if I just did that first, without the food being my first port of call.
I'm still thinking about that whole victim thing, particularly as I publish these cartoons about my earlier life. I don't know where this is going, but I know I feel overly responsible for things.
It's a beautiful spring day outside, and I think I'll go downtown to do some errands before a therapy appointment and going to the studio, maybe treat myself to a sandwich there at the same time. Getting outside may get myself out of my head. Speaking of which, here's another random memory from my kidhood...
Oh well, at least I got reimbursed for some expenditures I had made, that should help with the plumbing expenses. But by the time I got home last night, I felt wilted, bagged. And I ate a big heaping bowl of coleslaw. Lowfat coleslaw, but just the same, an odd choice for 10 pm. Then I had my regular chocolate and decaf, and I felt full, and sheepish, but I had to admit, I still felt just like one big raw nerve. I comforted myself a bit by wimpering pitifully and leaning on Fuzz's back while he brushed his teeth, making comforting sounds, and that felt better. It would be good if I just did that first, without the food being my first port of call.
I'm still thinking about that whole victim thing, particularly as I publish these cartoons about my earlier life. I don't know where this is going, but I know I feel overly responsible for things.
It's a beautiful spring day outside, and I think I'll go downtown to do some errands before a therapy appointment and going to the studio, maybe treat myself to a sandwich there at the same time. Getting outside may get myself out of my head. Speaking of which, here's another random memory from my kidhood...
2.4.08
Diggin' in the Dirt...
The last week has been interesting. It's quite amazing to be in the position of being grateful that I had a food incident, my "bingette" of last week, because I seem to have been given some revelations about some aspects of my... what would you call it? A modern term for it would be my "operating system", but you could also call it my unconscious philosophy of life, or my schema if you will, my concept of the world and my place in it.
I had a breakthrough like this a few months ago when I realized just how controlled I was by my worries of other people's opinion of my work in the studio, and this kind of fits with it, my feeling of being a victim, something that dates back to my early days with my family. Somewhere I really identified with this and I have a feeling that by working with this old, and pretty outdated image of myself I can actually get a measure of peace.
So much of my inner work of the last 7 years has been looking at my experiences in the early years that have shaped my viewpoint. It's just been the last year or so after a fairly intense few months of depression that I've been able to address how those experiences color my present life and how they actually don't fit my life now, allowing me to put them aside to have a clearer view of reality. More specifically, I can see how I'm not the victim I used to be, and so don't have to still act like one.
Maybe when I was a kid I ate excessively to comfort myself in the face of events that I had no control over. Now that I'm an adult, I have control over much more in my life, and I don't have to eat like I'm still a victim.
I had a breakthrough like this a few months ago when I realized just how controlled I was by my worries of other people's opinion of my work in the studio, and this kind of fits with it, my feeling of being a victim, something that dates back to my early days with my family. Somewhere I really identified with this and I have a feeling that by working with this old, and pretty outdated image of myself I can actually get a measure of peace.
So much of my inner work of the last 7 years has been looking at my experiences in the early years that have shaped my viewpoint. It's just been the last year or so after a fairly intense few months of depression that I've been able to address how those experiences color my present life and how they actually don't fit my life now, allowing me to put them aside to have a clearer view of reality. More specifically, I can see how I'm not the victim I used to be, and so don't have to still act like one.
Maybe when I was a kid I ate excessively to comfort myself in the face of events that I had no control over. Now that I'm an adult, I have control over much more in my life, and I don't have to eat like I'm still a victim.
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