onceafatgirl

Peace is better than chocolate

Archive for the category “Personal Growth”

10 Jan 2015

Not looking for a new normal

Only 10 days in, and 2015 is already normal.

It’s funny to think how normal things can become. How quickly. How seemingly permanently. And I think that works in all directions. Not just in neutral ways, like the changing of the year. Or in positive ways, like drinking 64 ounces of water every day. I think it works in whatever way it works. In whatever direction we push it.

This week I got into a heated argument. I was angry, hurt and scared. It was a big deal. I was crawl-out-of-my-skin unhappy. So in the 6 degree weather with snow freezing on the ground, I bundled myself up, pulled on my boots and went for a walk.

I was freezing. It was uncomfortable. But I needed to release some of those stress hormones making me unbearably emotionally itchy. So I walked.

There is a 24 hour big chain grocery store about 15 minutes from my house. I was going to walk there. Just as a destination. Just to have somewhere to walk to. It would be warm in there. But something in me said not to. Said it was risky. Said I was too upset to walk into a grocery store and know with certainty that I would come out with my eating boundaries in tact and my eating disorders under control.

There was another part of me, yes. The part that said, You got this, Kate. You don’t have to worry about going to the grocery store. You go to the grocery store several times a week. All alone. You don’t even want to eat sugar. You just celebrated your 9 year anniversary for God’s sake. You’re not going to throw it all away after 9 years. I mean, come on. NINE. YEARS.

But in the end, I decided not to go to the grocery store. I just walked and then looped around and headed home.

Because 9 years is a long time, it’s true. And that undeniably makes having eating boundaries and not having sugar my current normal. But it’s not a guarantee. And I know that one wrong bite, and I could be bingeing, and 300 lbs, or even more than 300lbs. And that could get really normal really quickly. And that scares me.

Not a lot. Not enough to never go into a grocery store again. I need my fruits and veggies, after all. And my herbal tea, and my artificial sweetener. And butter and bacon and all of the delicious things I eat within my glorious, life-saving, life-giving food boundaries. But enough not to go barging into one when I am emotionally distressed. Enough to know not to test my own strength when I am vulnerable.

God knows that life will test me whenever it will, vulnerable or strong. And I guess I’d like to save my strength for when I really need it.

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03 Jan 2015
4 Comments

Happy other birthday to me

It is that time of year again. The New Year. And January 2nd is a special day for me. It is my double anniversary. My favorite day besides my biological birthday. My other birthday.

Nine years ago on January 1st, I was hopeless and desperate. And I had been in the death grip of my eating disorders. They were relatively new at the time. I had beed morbidly obese for most of my life at that point, but around 2004/2005, I had started a series of diets and workout regimes. I was going to get control of my body! I was going to lose weight! So I got coaches and trainers and started taking classes and counting calories. And I lost so much weight. But there was something wrong. Seriously wrong. The thinner I got, the crazier I got. I was irrational. I was reckless. And most importantly, I was terrified. And I couldn’t even identify that I was terrified.

Maintaining that new, thinner body was exhausting. And I didn’t understand it at the time, but what had me terrified was the unconscious understanding that I was never going to maintain that body. Because sugar ruled my life.

I have sometimes explained it like this: When I was fat, I was high on sugar. When I was dieting and exercising, I was high on losing weight. But being a certain size for any period of time is not exciting. You cannot get high on staying thin. And I wanted my drug back.

Check that. I wanted my drug back, but I wanted it in this new body. I wanted my drug back without consequences. I wanted to have done the work once so that the work would be done. Once and for all. I wanted to defy the laws of nature.

And I started eating again. Binge eating. Eating constantly. Mostly sugar and grains and starchy things. And I starting exercising in excess. Classes and running. Every day. Twice a day. I went all raw. No fat. Only green juice. And I started taking laxatives. Drinking castor oil. Administering enemas. And I started sticking toothbrushes down my throat.

And I was still gaining weight. And I was insane. Just trying to hold off a little bit longer before I gained back all of the weight and I was 300 lbs again. Before everyone would see it written all over me that I was a shameful, unworthy, unlovable blob. Before the clock struck midnight and I turned back into a pumpkin.

And then around November of 2005, I told the truth. About all of it. And somebody said that I had to start treating myself like an addict.

So I ate myself through the end of the year. No holds barred. It was a sad time for me. A time of self-disgust and resignation. Years later some friends would remind me that they saw me in that time and that I had said point blank, “I can’t stop eating.”

But on January 2, 2006, I met for the first time with a group of people who identified as sugar addicts and compulsive eaters. They had given up sugar, grains and starches, and put boundaries around their eating. And I started to do what they did.

I didn’t really believe it was going to work for me. I didn’t believe anything could work for me. I was utterly hopeless.

But maybe the best thing was for me to be so hopeless. Maybe my desperation was the reason it did work. Because it did. Since that day, I have not eaten sugar. I have kept boundaries around my eating. I have slowly changed the way I think about myself and life.

I am addicted to sugar. And when I was eating sugar, I could not stop. For years now, I have not had sugar in my body. So my body doesn’t crave it. But I could only get to this place with help. I think that’s important. It wasn’t willpower that brought me here. It wasn’t stick–to–itiveness. I don’t have those things around food. What I have is support. And willingness to take suggestions from people who have gone before me. And the opportunity to support others in their journey around food recovery.

A lot of life happens in 9 years. That doesn’t change because you get sober. But for me, no matter what happened – births, deaths, fights, reunions, vacations, vacation debacles, parties and partings – January 2nd is a day of celebration. I get to celebrate 9 years of freedom. That is 9 years of discovering who I really am, and sharing her with the world.

And January 2, 2015 was also the 3 year anniversary of this blog. Another big deal in my life.

Every week, I write a post here about being a woman living with eating disorders. I do it even when I think I have nothing interesting to say. I do it because I said I would. And this blog has been a chance for me to change my life.

I get to put ideas out in the world. I get to bounce them off of reality. I get to raise them up the flag pole and see who salutes. I get to see what gets bigger and more robust. And I get to see what floats away like dust. I believe this blog has sped up the natural pace of change in my life. I could not have made these changes if I were not sober from sugar and compulsive eating. But the writing, and the candid revealing, and the truth telling that have gone on here have made for a dynamic trajectory of growth and maturation in my life that sobriety alone could not have given me.

Anniversaries are about commitment. Nine years ago I made a commitment to myself about my eating. Three years ago I made a commitment to myself about sharing my experiences through writing. Commitments change the direction of one’s life. It is the natural order of things. And I believe that just the act of committing makes me a better person.

So I love January 2nd. It is a day that I celebrate myself. Because years ago, it was the day that I chose to honor myself. Twice. And because I continue to cultivate that honor.

Posted in Inspiration, Life, Personal Growth and tagged , , , , , , ,
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
2 Comments

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
2 Comments

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.

Posted in Body image, Inspiration, Life, Personal Growth, Relationships and tagged , , , , , , ,
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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