onceafatgirl

Peace is better than chocolate

Archive for the category “Life”

27 Dec 2014

My own Christmas miracle

Christmas is over and the one holiday left is my second favorite time of the year. So I’m feeling pretty good right about now. Plus, I got some pretty awesome presents. I am writing this blog on my new MacBook. (Look who’s fancy!)

I made it through the food holidays with my eating boundaries in tact. That makes 8 Thanksgiving/Christmas Seasons in a row. But for most of them, I did not do much, if any, celebrating. This will be the second year in a row that I have lived in the town I grew up in, close to family.

When I lived in New York, I didn’t fly back to my hometown this time of year. I might have met friends for a bit in the evening. Exchanged gifts. Called family. But for the most part, I happily spent my days alone.

And now I live with my boyfriend. Just a short drive from both his family and my own.

But I want to note that, except for breakfast at my mom’s (with explicit instructions from me about what kind of bacon to buy and how big of an apple I wanted), I kept my boundaries around my eating by not eating with everybody else. I ate at home before or after the parties. I packed my meals in tupperware and brought them with me just in case.

And I didn’t really think twice about it. It was easy. I didn’t have to be around the foods I don’t eat. I didn’t have to look at cake and pie and cookies. I colored with the kids, or talked with family. I got to do the social part without having to deal with eating.

I am so grateful for the way that I eat now. I make sure I eat delicious food every day. Not just on holidays. And I don’t ever have to feel disgusted or ashamed anymore. I am not sorry that there was no candy for me. I am not sorry there were no chips and dip for me.

The truth is that since I put boundaries around my eating, I am not sorry at all about food anymore. Ever.

Now that my friends, is a Christmas miracle!

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21 Dec 2014

A crazy trust exercise

More of the same this week. I’m so ready for the Holidays to be over.

I’m also now having a hard time. I’m pretty actively unhappy lately. And I’m at a loss for what to do or how to fix it.

If I were a friend, I know what I would say to me. That I have to trust. That I have to trust that life is working the way it’s supposed to. That not only will it get better than it is, but it will be better than it has been before. Better than I think it can be.

That is always the way it has been since I got my eating under control. What I learned (very slowly) when I stopped eating sugar was that I didn’t so much have an eating problem, or even so much a sugar problem, as I had a living problem. Yes, sugar is a physical addiction for me. And eating it sets up an insatiable craving for it. And yes I have eating disorders. But those things are the ways I used to deal with being bad at life. I have heard other addicts call it “trying to fill a God-sized hole.” I ate to fill a hole. I eventually learned that that hole could only be filled by a combination of integrity, trusting life and trusting my heart.

When I look at why I am unhappy, (an issue I am not ready to talk about yet) I can’t imagine how it could get better. At least not any time soon. It feels like I should expect at least a year of this frustration. And frankly, maybe longer.

And this is where I am supposed to trust.

The truth is that since I have gotten my eating under control, I have never had a permanent downgrade. I have had to let go of some ideas I had about what I thought I wanted. I have had to stop being a martyr. I have had to give up a certain amount of self-righteousness, and the right to complain without trying to make it right. And I have certainly had minor, temporary setbacks. But never once have I ended up worse than when I started. In any aspect of my life. So why would I expect it to happen now?

I might need to start having conversations. I might need to take some actions. I am going to have to listen to myself and trust my heart.

It’s hard to trust that things will get better when I can’t even imagine a timely, happy resolution. But isn’t that what trust is? Believing in what is unknown and uncertain?

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14 Dec 2014

Blah blah freakin’ blah

I have been feeling pretty blah lately. Maybe it’s winter. Maybe it’s that I haven’t been getting enough sun. Maybe it’s the holidays, which are not my favorite.

I know that my life is sweet. I think about how happy I am every day. But I am not really actively happy in the last few weeks. I guess it’s relative.

There is a certain luxury to being blah. I don’t have any real worries. I don’t have any crises. I don’t have any real drama. If you ask me what’s wrong, the answer is nothing. I’m just blah.

I spent many long years in desperate unhappiness. Because I was an addict continually engaging in addict behavior.

See if you feel blah, and you ask yourself why, and you have a million possible answers- like that lie you told, the fear of being caught in that lie you told, the promise you broke, that thing you were supposed to do but didn’t, that thing you weren’t supposed to do but did, that thing you stole and way you cheated, the fear of being caught cheating and stealing- that blah feeling can occur as real and eternal. Like it will never get better because there is a reason for it. Many good reasons.

And the other thing about addict behavior is that when you are active in it, it occurs as the only way to live. When I was acting out my addiction, I didn’t believe I had any other choice. I really believed that life forced me into making the choices I made. Like I couldn’t tell the truth. If life/luck/fate had made me succeed/be right/do a good job, I would have been able to tell the truth/make an honorable choice/have integrity. But instead, things didn’t always go my way, so I thought I had to turn things to my advantage with deceit and trickery. I thought I was just doing what needed to be done to save face. I thought that looking right was the most important thing. I thought integrity was the result of having a charmed life.

If you don’t know by now, I will fill you in on a little secret. Having a charmed life is the result of integrity.

And the first step in integrity for this food-addicted, eating-disordered, body-dysmorphic girl is to keep my integrity with my food.

So I’m blah. But I keep my boundaries around my eating. And I keep on keeping on. And eventually I will be inspired and invigorated. And that’s not today. But it’s still a damn sight better than being haunted tormented and ashamed. So I’ll take it. And be grateful.

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07 Dec 2014

A terrible moment is a reasonable price for a peaceful lifetime.

I have mentioned before that it’s easy to forget what it was like before I got my eating under control. There is something about the human psyche that allows things to become “normal.” It occurs day to day like this person I am, who is honest and honorable and reliable, is who I have always been. But of course, if I look at it objectively, I was not any of those things. I may have wanted to be that way, and thought that any time I wasn’t, I was justified, but the real deal is that I was regularly dishonest, dishonorable, and unreliable. I acted out of fear, shame, and a misguided sense of self-preservation.

I would learn later, once I was sober from sugar and from acting out my eating disorders, that the best way to preserve one’s self is to take responsibility. But I spent many years trying to pawn responsibility for my mistakes, problems, and failures off on anyone else. It seemed like the best way to be free. But it simply made me feel bad about myself, led to more bad behavior, and more needing to numb myself. In other words, it fed my addiction.

And all of that escapes me in my day to day life. I am not haunted. I do not lie awake at night anymore, worrying about what I did or didn’t do. I don’t lose sleep over anything. It’s a nice perk of integrity.

And then every once in a while, I will get a flashback. Of what it felt like. It’s not intellectual. I think about it intellectually all the time. I write this blog every week. I remember what I did and how I behaved, but I don’t usually experience it. Viscerally.

And then sometimes I do. And it’s terrible. Terrifying. It happened to me a couple of times this week and it was awful. But, then again, not awful.

I don’t know where it comes from. But I am always grateful for it. Once I get my bearings again.

There is a distinction I have. This way I am now, as a person I genuinely like and respect, is the real me. It is who I am supposed to be. And it is my destiny, or my path or however you want to name it. It is more real than the addict in me. But it is not who I am naturally. It is not my default. It is not who I am when I’m not sober. And I have to work to keep sober. I have to work at being the real me. It’s not a romantic notion. But I find that many romantic notions are false. Or at least misleading.

I think that feeling of being healed may be the big problem with addiction. The person you become feels so real. Like you couldn’t ever go back to the way you were. Because now you know. What to do and what not to do. But the fact is that I have met so many people who believed that they had life figured out because they were sober for a while. So they went ahead and tried to be normal and and found that they were not only still addicts, but that going back into active addiction returned them to all of their former bad behavior and horrible feelings. It didn’t matter that they had been sane and well for months or years. They hadn’t learned anything really. At least not anything that helped them keep the sanity they got from staying sober.

So I am grateful to those people who did the research for me. So I didn’t have to do it myself. And I am grateful for those flashback experiences, where I remember what it felt like to be the “natural” me. Because I’d rather feel it for a terrible moment than live it for a terrible lifetime.

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29 Nov 2014
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Dear Tradition, consider yourself flouted. Love, me

And that is Thanksgiving done. Phew.

As you may know, it is my least favorite day of the year. I had ignored it, considered it just another Thursday, for a long time.

This year we went to my boyfriend’s family’s home for dinner, and my Mom’s for dessert. (Of course I did not partake of dessert.)

It was fine. It was even nice. Or at least there were some really nice moments. But it’s so much. It’s so much food. It’s so much noise. It’s so much heightened emotion.

I have said before that I am not afraid of food. I don’t worry about eating things I’m committed to not eating. But it is not always comfortable. It can sometimes be a matter of holding my thoughts in check. And that can be exhausting. Especially when I am out of my element.

And also especially on Thanksgiving. Because the traditional mode of celebration is eating. To not eat can somehow feel like I’m saying, “screw you, tradition. And screw you too, America.” To go to Thanksgiving celebrations and not eat sugar and carbs, and not over eat, and not do anything “special” is, without a doubt, to set yourself apart. It is to show up at a party and then…not party. It can feel like being the party-pooper. Which is why I used to just treat it as another day. It’s easier that way.

Of course I DO NOT WANT to eat sugar. I do not want to over eat. I am not telling you all of this because I want an excuse to “live a little.” I do not want any excuses. I love my boundaries. Seriously, getting my eating under control is the greatest thing that ever happened to me. And I am not interested in giving that up for a feeling of inclusion. Or normalcy. I am telling you this because I have made a choice. The choice to participate in this tradition on my own terms. For my boyfriend, mostly. Because it’s important to him to do his family traditions. And I love him.

But my food always has to be on my terms. Always. Period.

Look, people know. My boyfriend’s family is totally supportive. My family is totally supportive. I’m not saying that anyone was pressuring me. It is having to protect myself from the “Great American Institution” that is Turkey Day that is exhausting.

But it’s only one day a year. And nobody said I had to love it. I just have to get through it. And I don’t have to worry about that for another year.

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23 Nov 2014
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If you have something to say about my weight, DON’T! Seriously, just don’t.

Something came up this week that I want to talk about.

It was nothing major, really. It was a common enough occurance. But good Lord did it piss me off.

A woman I don’t know very well said to me, “How’s your diet going? I can see that you have lost weight since last time I saw you.”

Number one, I have not lost weight since the last time this woman saw me. At all. I may even have gained weight. So it occurred to me as a lie. And I am not even a little interested in polite lies. I am positive she meant it to be nice. That she thought it was the neighborly thing to do. But that kind of thing is disingenuous to me. And not welcome.

Number two, I am not on a diet. Diets have a goal and an end. You lose 15 or 20 or 50 or whatever number of pounds and then you eat crap again. Diets get cheated on. Because diets deprive you of anything enjoyable so sometimes you have to “live a little.” Diets are about losing weight.

What I do is a way of life. I don’t want to cheat. I don’t have a goal so I can stop. I don’t want to stop. I have boundaries around my eating because it makes me happy and free. If I lose weight great. If I don’t, it doesn’t change anything. I eat delicious meals that I love that don’t include sugar or simple carbohydrates. Because I am addicted to those things. I am not on a diet. I have a diet.

And number three, and this is the important one, it is rude and obnoxious to talk about someone’s weight. Stop that!

I would say that the average human has between 1 and 5 people in their lives who are allowed to speak openly about their weight. Because they are loving, nonjudgmental, and a clearing for the person. If you want to know if you are one of those people, you need to ask. Seriously. Just because you are a parent, or a friend, or a sibling, do not assume you are welcome to comment or ask about a person’s weight. If you are too embarrassed to ask, then you should keep your mouth shut.

And if you ask, and the person says no, then keep it to yourself. Not, “Well I just want to say…”

I don’t care if you think it’s a compliment. I don’t care if you think it’s important. I don’t care if you think it’s polite. Whatever it is, no means no.

I hate this idea that people think somebody’s weight is open for discussion. I understand that it is on the outside for everyone to see. But it is still deeply personal.

My body is the only vessel I have. It contains the entirety of my life. Without it, I am very literally dead. It is a deeply spiritual thing. Whether you see it that way or not. So mind your own business.

OK. I am done ranting. Thank you.

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16 Nov 2014

Novelty helped me survive eating food I didn’t enjoy

Today we spent the day driving home again. It was a nice day.

I liked the town where we stayed in Kentucky. I went walking every day. I enjoyed my time there. It was nice to be away.

But there is something else that I find enjoyable about going out of town. Especially for a short while. I am forced to do different things. To break my routines and branch out. Especially around food.

I don’t know that I have ever thought about the fact that I cook almost everything in the oven. Meat and vegetables alike. I occasionally sauté. I rarely fry. And I never steam. Bacon and eggs get cooked on the range. Basically everything else is baked or roasted.

But there was no oven at the hotel we stayed in. Only burners. So I made chicken the other day. Because it was easy to get and I was going to have to pan cook it. And it had been maybe years since I had it. At least the boneless, skinless breast cutlet. And I kept apologizing to my boyfriend that it wasn’t very good. And he kept saying it was perfectly good.

Right. I don’t like chicken. But I already knew that. I almost never make it, unless it’s bone in, skin on and I deep fry it twice. (It’s called confit. And it’s awesome.) It was nice to have boring old chicken breast. If only to remember that I really don’t want it. And that I don’t have to eat it again any time soon. I didn’t even feel disappointed. It was just a new meal in a new place. There was a kind of freedom in being away from my norm. I made vegetables I hadn’t made in a long time either. Sautéed green beans. Brussels sprouts. Broccoli. It was also nice to eat a bunch of things that I hadn’t made in forever but actually loved!

I thoroughly enjoyed being someplace I didn’t know. And doing things I I don’t usually do. I liked exploring. I liked looking around.

I am not a person who jumps out of bed in the morning hoping the day is filled with excitement and adventure. But even for a girl like me, who likes sameness and contentment, variety is still the spice of life.

And if I learned anything from keeping the boundaries around my eating no matter what happens (or what doesn’t), it’s that peace is not about sameness or contentment. Peace is about trusting that everything is exactly right in the midst of upheaval and discontent.

And yes. I’m happy to have my oven back.

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09 Nov 2014

Otherwise how would I learn?

I’m on the road again today. To Kentucky for a bit. Maybe not more than a week. But I’m happy to be going.

My boyfriend and I were apart for 2 weeks. The longest since I moved in with him. And I didn’t like it.

It’s funny that when I lived in New York I used to fear/hate leaving home. Because food is easy at home. And now, I would rather be on the road with a cooler as long as I can be with him. My definition of home has changed. My definition of comfort too.

We will stay in an extended stay hotel so I can have a kitchenette. And there is a grocery store within walking distance. So it’s not as if I am flying by the seat of my pants with my food. And so far I haven’t had to. But I really think I could if it came to that. For a short stay in a small town.

But the other thing I get to do is not worry about that right now. That’s not what is going on right now. I only have to deal with now. I don’t have to figure out how to deal with vague possibilities in the distant and uncertain future.

When I was eating compulsively I would often give up before I started something. The fear of having to deal with hardships and discomforts that may or may not pop up was an excellent excuse to quit. And quitting gave me more time to get high on sugar.

But for today, right now, I am incredibly happy to have my eating under control, my food taken care of, and to be available for adventure. Or at least life in the form I chose it. Which happens to be rather adventurous.

I was not the kind of person who would have chosen a life of regular travel. I chose love, of course. And it happened to come in the form of wandering. But I have learned that life likes to give me things I don’t think I want. Otherwise how would I learn that I love them?

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02 Nov 2014

In case you missed it, it has already begun…

Another Halloween over. Of course, Halloween kicks off our collective debauched food binge that lasts through the extreme hangover that is New Years Day. The day we firmly resolve that this year we will be better. We will lose weight and drink more water and less alcohol and stop yelling at our kids and be better listeners.

I am so grateful that I don’t have to play that game anymore. Of course, at this particular moment I am most grateful that I did not have to eat compulsively just because it was Halloween. Trick or treat would have been, without a doubt, all trick and no treat.

I handed out the candy this year. Which wasn’t hard, because I don’t crave it since I haven’t had it in my body for over 8 years. And there weren’t many kids since it was so cold, so there is still a whole bunch of candy in the house. But thank God I don’t have to eat it. Thank God it’s not mine. Thank God I don’t have to start, and then be expected to stop. Because I don’t know if I have another stop in me. And I don’t want to find out.

I also love that I still love Halloween. I love dressing up. I love my own creativity. I love the chance to show off how clever I am. I love getting to wear a costume I can feel beautiful in. (I was Miss America this year. Complete with evening gown, tiara, sash and running mascara.) In a body I can feel beautiful in. I love that I don’t have to feel deprived. Of fun. Or chocolate. Because the truth is that I would not have just eaten some chocolate. And I wouldn’t have just eaten all of the chocolate. I would have eaten the things I didn’t want or like. I would have eaten everything that was there. And then I would have gotten more. I would have needed to go get more. I would not have been able to not get more. But instead, I get to still love Halloween because I don’t have to eat myself to shame and self-loathing. I love that I get to wake up with some dignity. Even after the binge-fest that is National Candy Day.

So now it is time to beware the Holiday Season. I may not be in danger, but food is still dangerous to me. Even after all this time. I don’t take it lightly. I protect myself from my eating disorders. By remembering that I am eternally a compulsive eater. Hopeless and without a cure. By making sure that the meals I make myself are delicious and decadent while keeping them within my eating boundaries. By remembering that I am addicted to sugars, grains and starches. By remembering how eating compulsively manifests in my life. On my body in the form of 150 more pounds. And in my personality in the form of lying, cheating and stealing. And in my heart as depression and self-hatred. I remember these things because I want to continue to wake up with dignity.

I may have made it through Halloween, but there is more to come. Pumpkin Pie and Christmas cookies. Mashed potatoes and stuffing. Wine and eggnog. There is little time to take a breath between bites and gulps for the rest of the year. For other people. For me, there is plenty of time. Hours and hours between my three meals a day. To do and be. As long as I keep my head on straight and keep the boundaries around my eating.

So I hope you had a Happy Halloween. And I wish you a peaceful Holiday Season. Because it has already begun.

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26 Oct 2014

A city of not-so-secret admirers

I am in New York City for a few days. I’m here for a kind of conference. It’s a conference about eating disorders and getting your eating under control. It has been two days of community and fellowship. And I’m exhausted.

It’s good to be back. I like it here. There are things I had forgotten about living here. Things that I miss. Not all of it. I don’t miss the stress. People keep telling me I look so relaxed. And I am. There is a buzz in the city. Not always a pleasant one. Sometimes an anxious, neurotic, unfocused one. But there is something else here. Something that I used to thrive on and I don’t get it other places. New York is a city of show offs. Hence, it is a city of audience members. At any given moment, you are the player or the viewer. Looking to impress or be impressed.

Last week I was in tears over my body. Angry at God that I have not lost weight. Feeling fat and ashamed. Not wanting to come here. Worrying that I would be judged harshly for not being skinny.

But the truth is, I had been in the city for 20 minutes and I couldn’t even get the half mile to the farmers market without being admired. Without being called beautiful. Without being asked if I was having a nice day. Without being smiled at.

I had forgotten how much that was worth to my self-esteem. I had misunderstood what had changed. My beauty had not changed. My surroundings had. I had noticed that fewer men were making note of my attractiveness. I wondered if I was not aging well. If I was not a pretty as I had been. If it was because I was fat.

Now I just want to note that my boyfriend tells me I am beautiful every day. And I know he means it. And I love that. And need it. But, you know, he’s in love with me….

What coming to New York did was give me some perspective. That I live in a perfectly lovely body. That my weight is not affecting my beauty. And that, really, my weight is not a problem. All of these men kept telling me so in kind, gentlemanly ways. Not aggressive or objectifying. Just in admiration.

I will always have body image issues. Those will never go away. I know that. And they are not rational. I know that too. But I hope I get to take this with me back home. At least for a little while. This experience of being a beautiful woman among beautiful women. This knowledge that there is nothing to be ashamed of.

And, a woman at the conference said that her doctor recommended walking at night in order to jumpstart her metabolism. And she said it helped. So I am going to try that too! Not because there is anything wrong. Just because why not.

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