onceafatgirl

Peace is better than chocolate

Archive for the tag “eating disorders”

11 Aug 2013

Moving right along (*digga dum digga dum*)

I have mentioned before that I am a different person than I was growing up. Not just that I was morbidly obese and now I am a healthy weight. But that I think and act differently.

And today I am marveling a little at myself. Because for the past few days, I have been in the middle of change and discomfort. And I have been (mostly) pretty graceful.

I left New York in May to move in with my boyfriend. He travels for work. It was time to leave one job and it’s a couple of weeks before we move along to another. So I just packed up life for the second time in 3 months. And this time, got in a pickup truck and traveled on the road for 19 hours. Which I’ll do again in a couple of weeks. And then again. And again. From job to job. Forever. Or at least for a long time. We don’t have plans to settle in one place any time soon…

The idea that I would choose this is sort of fascinating to me. I am historically a person who avoids change. In some ways I still think of myself as someone with an aversion to the unknown. Markedly unadventurous.

I certainly was when I was a compulsive eating sugar addict. I never anticipated any difficulty. But was explosively furious if even the smallest problem or discomfort should arise.

But one of the things I learned when I got sober from sugar is that life happens. To everybody. To not take it personally.

Because I did! So personally. And everybody else was to blame. If I were stuck in traffic, it was the cab driver’s fault. It didn’t matter that I left the house at rush hour. Late. Or that every other person on that road was also stuck in traffic. Or that traffic is a part of life. It was a personal affront from God, the cabbie, and all of the other people in my way. It was a conspiracy against me! (I was that important. Impressive, huh?)

I threw a lot of temper tantrums over life being “not fair”. Which were really temper tantrums over life being “not easy”. Because I think life is a lot more fair than I ever gave it credit for. (And it helps that I stopped comparing my personal experience with what it looked like everybody else’s experience was. I have heard it called comparing my insides with everybody else’s outsides.)

I won’t pretend I wasn’t overwhelmed and exhausted on Friday night. The hardest part for me is point where my home around me is chaos and everything is a jumble of things to pack, things I don’t know if I want to pack, and garbage. And after spending most of the day packing, it didn’t help that I was physically exhausted too. It was certainly the most graceless I was this weekend. (Sorry, Baby. Love you.)

But I am going to be doing this. Regularly. I am bound to get better at it. And I want to get better. I am already thinking about ways to get better. How to downsize. To figure out what is the minimum I need to be happy and comfortable. And live like that. How to enjoy the adventurous life. Because life actually is an adventure. Even if I’m not looking for it to be. So I might as well embrace it. It’s what I’ve been offered as the best option.

No, I don’t have to go. I don’t have to agree to it. Getting my eating under control taught me about taking responsibility for the choices I make. And this adventurous life is the one that comes with my Love. And I choose my Love with all of the things that come with it. And I am enjoying it so far. Even the unknown.

That’s a gift of getting my eating under control. I actually enjoy life. All of it. I am not just tolerating this moving around. I am looking forward to the next adventure.

And I will tell you that there is one other gift of getting my eating under control. I had all of my food packed in the car. I ate when it was time to eat. I didn’t have to worry about where to stop. Or when. Or if I could put it off until the next time we needed gas. Or being ravenously hungry. I didn’t have to think about food. The food was taken care of. And I enjoyed the time with my boyfriend.

Posted in Inspiration, Life, Relationships and tagged , , , , , | Leave a comment
03 Aug 2013
1 Comment

Just because it was cute and funny in the afternoon, doesn’t mean it wasn’t actually a nightmare at night

Thursday this past week was the 1st. If you’ve been reading for a while you know the first of the month is “weigh day.”

Since May, when I started to lose the weight I gained from quitting smoking, weigh day has become less and less scary for me.

When I was continually gaining, with seemingly no rhyme or reason, and no correlation to what I was eating, I was constantly afraid. I worried about stepping on the scale no matter how far away it was. I was worried about November 1st on October 2nd.

Just last week I wrote about how I’m not so worried about my weight lately. And that’s true. Even on Wednesday (7/31) I wasn’t worried. Aware, yes. Thrilled about getting on the scale, no. But not worried.

Or so I thought.

Wednesday night I had a crazy nightmare.

First, I started to eat before I weighed myself (which is not something I do in real life. I have my weigh day ritual. I weigh myself bone dry before I so much as take a sip of water and after I *ahem* go to the bathroom.) But then I remembered it was weigh day, so I stopped eating and I ran home. I told a friend who was standing outside my door that I had forgotten to weigh myself as I ran past her. And I downloaded a free app to my bathroom scale that would make it talk to me in the voice of The Cat in the Hat (a la the 1971 animated special. What the hell. It was free.) So I got on the scale and it told me I had lost 4 lbs. “Ho ho! It went in the direction you wanted it to go!” But when I looked down, I noticed that the scale was not flat on the floor. And that my floor was so cluttered with junk that I couldn’t find a flat place to put it. But I finally found a place to put it. Only when I went to step on it, the app kept giving me various menus, and I had to figure out which one was the right one to tell me *my* weight, not somebody else’s.

This absolutely occurs to me as hilarious now. Both ridiculous and humorous. But at the time it was an out-and-out nightmare. I was overwhelmed with fear and anxiety. And it took a long time for me to get out of bed Thursday morning. I did not want to get on that scale.

But I did. And I lost half a pound. I have lost 6 lbs total in the past 4 months.

It takes a lot of thought management to deal with my body image disorders. And even then there is only so much I can do. I didn’t want to have that nightmare. And it would be ludicrous to blame myself for my subconscious working things out.

Thankfully, there are boundaries in my life. Actions that I take and don’t take. Things that make nightmares and thoughts and wants utterly insignificant.

I weigh myself on the 1st. And only on the 1st. It’s what I do. It doesn’t matter how I feel about it.

I eat within my food boundaries. Always and only. It doesn’t matter if I’m hungry or not. It doesn’t matter how I feel about it.

There is a freedom in that which is counter intuitive. It may seem like a limitation. But what it frees me from is being a slave to my feelings. And having to decipher which of my feelings are real and honorable, and which are my crazy trying to get out. Weighing myself when I have made a commitment to do so makes it go away. I don’t have to second guess myself. I don’t have to wonder if I made the right decision. It doesn’t have to stay with me and haunt me. I can let it go. And it will actually go.

So after I weighed myself Thursday morning, I spent the day cooking and packing food within my boundaries to take with me to the airport on my way for a family visit this weekend. I made and packed a full day’s worth of food, even though we should land before lunch and long before dinner. Just in case of delays or unexpected trouble. Because whatever my weight, or my situation, or how my plans work out, or don’t, there are still boundaries to keep. And 3 meals every day to be relished and savored.

I know that all things are temporary. And I am looking forward to the time when my body becomes a non-issue. Both consciously and subconsciously. But until then, I am grateful I always have rules. Rules that I follow no matter how I feel. Clear and simple.

Posted in Body image, Inspiration, Life and tagged , , , , , , , , , , ,
28 Jul 2013

Want to get a bikini body this summer?

Put a bikini on your body…

I have mentioned before, just last week even, that other people’s eating disorders can bring my own eating disorders to the forefront of my thinking. That’s true of my body image disorders as well. And I’m in a funny place right now. I would say that it’s a pretty good place. But weird.

See, for the most part, my body is not an issue lately. But also, grocery store checkout tabloids and people with body issues on social media are putting images that make me angry (frustrated? freaked out?) all up in my face.

I did not lose 150 lbs for my health. Period. (Just like I did not quit smoking for my health.) I have never ever ever done anything for my health. It is not what motivates me. And I’m not sorry for it. Or ashamed of it.

Yes, I know that the world wants health to be the great motivator. Good Lord, they say it often enough. Just try putting some artificial sweetener in your coffee in a public place. You’d think you were snorting cocaine on the Starbucks counter top. That’s so bad for you!

And it was certainly vanity that got me to get control of my eating. (And quit smoking.) But it was not really physical vanity. It was less what my body looked like, and more what my body said about me.

Here’s the way I think I can explain it. Being fat was, as far as I was concerned, the physical manifestation of how messed up, out of control, morally bankrupt, self-hating, unlovable, and pathetic I was. It was the big billboard that announced “This girl is totally f***ed up!” So yes, I did not want to be fat anymore.

But my experience is that there is a crazy paradox that goes along with losing weight. And even more specifically, getting the body I wanted. And now love.

I had to stop caring about whether or not I would get the body I wanted. And I had to love the body I had. I had to let go of what I thought would be a good body, the right body, a beautiful body.

Because I do not have the body that I thought I would have to have before I could love my body. I just plain don’t. But I sure do love my body. LOVE it!

Those fashion magazine articles that tell us to tape pictures of women with the bodies we want on our refrigerators for motivation, with the promise that if we work hard enough, and be good enough, we too will get that body, well…they’re lying. Those women are models. And I’m going to be blunt here, they are models because they have a rare body shape and type. That a very greedy beauty industry is trying to sell us at all costs. And those pictures are probably photoshopped. The truth is that no matter how disciplined, committed to our diets and regimented in our workouts we are, we will probably never get a body that looks like those women’s bodies.

I know for a fact that I never will. Never ever. I have my own body. It’s the one I got from my parents. And God, or Nature, or Life, or whatever you want to call it. And there is nothing wrong with that. Did you get that? Let me reiterate. THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH THAT! I even abused the hell out of my body. And it is fantastically beautiful!

If I had gotten control of my eating to get a beautiful body, I would have given up a long time ago. I would have decided that none of it was worth it. If I couldn’t have a magazine-worthy body, I might as well have had chocolate cake.

But I don’t need to have a model’s body. Thank God! I don’t need to be seen as skinny. Hell, lately, I don’t even need to worry about how fast (or if) I’m going to lose the rest of the weight I gained when I quit smoking. (I do still have body image disorders, so frankly, that might come up again. But for now it’s a non-issue.)

I certainly do not think of this blog as being a weight loss or eating disorder instruction manual. I do my best to keep it about my own experience. But today I’m branching out a bit. So if you read me looking for clues about how to lose weight, here’s my advice. And it’s good!

Don’t wait to lose weight to love yourself. Love yourself now. Don’t wait to get a beautiful body before you start thinking your body is beautiful. Think it’s beautiful now.

Because there is magic in that! It’s a Jedi mind trick. It works. It will probably help you lose weight. And even if it doesn’t…You will love your body! How could that be a bad thing?!?!

Posted in beauty, Body image, Inspiration, Life and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment
21 Jul 2013

Thank God for the people from other worlds!

My boyfriend is not a person who loves to eat. I don’t mean to imply that he doesn’t enjoy the food he is eating when he is eating it. But he does not love eating. He does not look forward to eating. He sometimes forgets to eat. It sometimes doesn’t occur to him to eat until he is ravenous.

This is not a world I live in. It’s not even the same galaxy. It may even be an alternate universe in another dimension…

I am very sensitive to other people’s eating disorders. It is hard for me to be around both food, and people who have an unhealthy relationship with food at the same time. It’s like a sixth sense. I can feel it. It makes me nervous. Edgy.

And not just eating or over eating. Not eating, too. Restraining. Managing. Depriving.

If I am at a party or a dinner with a (usually) woman who can’t stop eating, or can’t stop looking, or can’t stop going back for just a little bit more, or can’t stop telling other people to stop her, or can’t stop apologizing with a guilty look every time she takes a bite, I usually have to walk away. I don’t know what it is, but my own eating disorders start jumping up and down and waving their arms in big, sweeping motions.

Here I am! Over here! Remember me?

Yes, I remember, thank you. It is my life’s goal to eternally remember you. To never forget. And never let you out again.

But for several years now, first with roommates, and now with my boyfriend, I have lived with a number of men who just don’t give a shit about food.

Some have been generally healthier eaters than others. But they all eat junk food. They all eat sugar and carbs. But in moderation. In fact, they will let things sit in cabinets forever. Maybe even let them sit until they go bad. One of my roommates once had a box of ice cream treats in the freezer for about a month. One day he said “Oh! I forgot about those.”

WTF do you mean you forgot about those!?!? If they had been mine, they would have haunted me until every last one was gone. And the carton had been licked.

The first time I stayed with my boyfriend, I woke up after he had left for work, and on the counter was an open package with one of two snack cakes. In other words, he opened it, ate one, and left the other one. Just left it. Didn’t even take it with him. He eventually threw it away. Seriously.

And then yesterday evening, for the first time since I moved in, he ordered a pizza. He hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast 9 or 10 hours earlier. He ate two slices and put it away. Maybe ate another one a few hours later.

When he asked what my blog was going to be about this week, and I said, “Maybe you ordering a pizza,” he said “Oh no! I didn’t think that would be tempting.”

I told him that, thankfully, at this point, nothing in particular is tempting. (Frankly, uncomfortable situations are more “dangerous” to me than any particular food. I basically just occasionally have a difficult feeling and know that food would numb it. I don’t crave sugar or carbs anymore.)

He said, “Don’t worry. It wasn’t that good anyway.” Which was funny to me because it never mattered so much if something were “good” as if it were sugary, starchy, or carby. You know, if it would get me high.

The deal is that I know what is mine and what is not. And I know what is not mine because I have trained myself to know this. I did a lot of work to get to this point. To not pine for foods. To not wish. Or feel deprived. To not resent the fact that I am not a normal eater, but a woman with a sugar addiction and a whole slew of eating disorders. To look at the idea of eating sugar or carbs as stealing somebody else’s food. Not just my boyfriend’s or my roommates’, but anybody else’s food. Even if it’s still on the shelf in the store, it’s not mine!

I did not look at that opened snack cake and want it. I did not have to throw it away to get it away from myself. That pizza is still in the refrigerator. And it will probably be in there until I throw it away in a few days. Because it will almost certainly get old before my boyfriend eats it. But no, it does not talk to me. It is not mine, and it never will be.

But I am still grateful. Grateful that for years now, I have lived in safe places, with safe people. People who don’t have eating disorders or food obsessions. People who can leave a box or a bag or a container long enough that it needs to get thrown away. I’m not saying I understand it. I’m just saying it’s good to be around it.

Posted in Inspiration, Life, Relationships and tagged , , , , | Leave a comment
13 Jul 2013
2 Comments

I never thought I was boring…but I may have been wrong

I am definitely at a loss for what to write this week. And I would be lying if I said that didn’t scare me. I am all too afraid of failure. And that I had a good run. But now the well is dry.

I have to remember that I have been here before. More than once in the past year and a half. And that there has always been more to write about. Eventually…

And it’s probably that I don’t have much to write about because I’m bored.

My boyfriend’s job is requiring more and more of his time. Which means I get less and less of it.

And I don’t have any friends here.

And there are no sidewalks here. And I don’t drive. I came from New York City. Who needed to drive?

And I don’t have a job here.

And there is only so much cooking and cleaning a girl can do. I mean, there are only 2 of us.

So maybe the big news is that I am more bored for more time than I can remember being, and I’m not eating compulsively. And when I consider that objectively, that’s a pretty big deal.

If you are a person who relates well to your body, knows when you are hungry and eats, knows when you are satisfied and stops, this may not seem like anything extraordinary to you.

But I am a compulsive eater. Until I got my eating under control, boredom seemed like one of the better reasons to eat. They were all good reasons – celebration, mourning, worry, stress, excitement, anxiety, good news, bad news, wanting some particular food item, wanting to get some particular food item before somebody else got it instead – but boredom was like a perfect package. I need something to do, and I love to eat. Hey! Eating is doing something!

So it is a miracle that I am not eating compulsively.

It’s not hard. I don’t mean that. I’m not tempted. Thank God. Temptation was lifted a long time ago. Occasionally, it pops up for a second or two. But I know how to stamp out a spark before it catches fire. I know not to romanticize food. Not to entertain, foster, and certainly never nurture thoughts about food. I change my mind. I cultivate my thinking. I remind myself that the truth is that eating outside of my boundaries is poison. Death and insanity. So no, not eating compulsively is not difficult.

But it is still a miracle that I am still me, and I don’t compulsively eat out of boredom. Or for any reason at all. I don’t eat compulsively. Period. That’s the miracle. That there is never a good reason to eat outside of my boundaries. Who knew?!?

We will probably be leaving here soon. Going where, we’re not sure. What comes next for my boyfriend is up to his company. And what town I live in next is up to his company too.

But as for what is next for me, well, I don’t know yet. And in the meantime, a little boredom won’t kill me. And keeping my food under control will mean I’m ready for the next thing when I figure out what that is. And trusting that life is always right will keep me peaceful, knowing that there is a next thing, and that I don’t need to force it. It will show up at the exactly right time.

Just like everything else has since I got my eating under control.

Posted in Inspiration, Life and tagged , , , , ,
29 Jun 2013

Exit closed due to relationship

Remember how I said last week that I didn’t need to wish for drama because life has a way of making plenty? Well, yeah. Got some.

And real drama. Not petty bullshit about how I don’t like the way you looked at me. Or some other such fabricated nonsense. But important stuff. Life and loss and pain. Real drama. Frankly, trauma.

Thankfully, I am separated from the trauma. It only affects me indirectly. And it only partially affects my boyfriend. But it does affect him. And that affects me. And for a time I didn’t know how severely it would affect him. And that, the not knowing and the waiting and the uncertainty, did a number on me.

When I got my eating under control 7½ years ago, I started a process of eliminating people and situations from my life that made me crazy or anxious or unhappy. A lot of them were people I loved. Most of them, really.

Jobs, bosses, friends, family, groups, activities. If something or someone took up room in my head with worry or anger or resentment or fear, I walked away. There was always an EXIT sign.

Even when it came to real life, trauma not drama, if it wasn’t mine, I stayed detached. I learned to keep my eyes on my own plate. And my own life.

I was single. Independent. I was the only person I had any responsibility to.

And now, I am not single and independent. I don’t stand alone in the world. And that is scary. Really, much scarier than standing alone.

Because I have made a decision to weave my life in with another person’s life. And there are people and situations I can’t walk away from anymore. They are not mine. Whether they are drama or trauma, I’m bound to them because I am bound to him.

And I learned something this week. Worrying about someone else, this man who I am so in love with, had me more in danger of eating sugar and carbohydrates than anything else ever has in 7½ years.

More than being homeless and sleeping on people’s couches. More than being jobless. More than being sick and not having insurance or being able to go to the doctor. More than being afraid that my neighbor was going to be a stalker. Even more than knowing that my Gram was dying.

When I didn’t know how my boyfriend was going to be affected by this traumatic situation, I realized that this kind of worry was a brand new experience for me. And that I could very seriously be in food danger. I sat down and asked myself what I would do when the worrying about him got so bad that eating sugar seemed like a viable option and a good idea. I knew that I had to have a plan and be prepared. So that I could stay within my food boundaries. And stay sober from sugar.

Because no matter how bad things can get, losing my food sobriety would only make everything worse.

Thankfully, none of my fears came to pass. My boyfriend is well. And I am well. And though all is not well for everybody, it is well enough for him and me to move on and live life.

I am starting to see, as I write this, that I fear not being in control of situations in my life. Not being able to keep my relationships and experiences on a short leash.

But I should remember that every time I have released another inch of control, and surrendered to Life and God, and every time I have let go and begun to trust, I have been given a life that is richer, happier, sweeter and more beautiful than anything I could have imagined for myself.

So I guess the next step is to learn to find peace where I am. Wherever I am and whoever is there with me. Because I know that I always have choices. But standing by the man I love is a choice I made. And want to continue to make. And that’s going to mean a lot more people and situations I can’t walk away from.

Posted in Inspiration, Life, Relationships and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment
22 Jun 2013

Breaking news! This just in: I’m cold

It’s a slow news week here in eating-disorder-land. Or, you know, under-control-eating-disorder-land. Lots of grocery shopping and cooking and general food preparation. Lots of sitting on the porch crocheting. Watching the lizards and the birds. As I write this, there are four hawks circling above me.

For a New York City girl, I sure do love the big, open sky. And the total lack of urgency. The quiet. Except for everybody else’s air conditioners running all the time.

The weather down here is hot. And I love it. No, seriously. I love it.

People don’t believe me. Think I must be exaggerating. But I love the extreme heat. When I say everybody else’s air conditioners, I mean it. I don’t like a/c. And my boyfriend is incredibly generous with me. He let’s me live in an a/c-free home.

We live on the first floor, our windows face east, and we keep the blinds drawn. So our apartment is generally 10 degrees cooler than it is outside. But for most people, that’s still hot.

When I was fat, I was hot all the time. I sweated all seasons of the year. I didn’t wear a coat in winter. In Chicago.

And then in the summer, there was the heat. And then that added heat. Because I had so much shame around my body. So I wore lots of clothes. Dresses and jeans together. Over-sized shirts over tank tops. Always pants. Always. If there was air conditioning, I wanted to be in it. Or really needed to be in it. I hated being outdoors. (Which may shock you if you met me within the past 7 years, since it’s my favorite thing now. In New York, if I wasn’t wandering the city, I was on my roof. Here I’m on my porch, or laying out in the sun.)

Now, I rarely sweat. I am always somewhere between cold and comfortable. In fact, every year I don’t eat sugar, grains, or starch, I get colder.

I’m at the point now where if the temperature is below about 73 and the sun is not directly on me, I’m kind of chilly.

I bring a sweater with me everywhere. I never know if I’m going to end up in some air-conditioned place and be incredibly uncomfortable.

The truth is that it’s a problem I have now. Maybe the biggest issue going on in my life here. That I need to bring a sweater to the grocery store. That if I’m going to have my super yummy, home-made frozen smoothie for breakfast, I have to wear sleeves and drink hot coffee or I get too cold. In other words, my biggest problem is a luxury problem.

Obviously, I was being serious. It’s a slow news day. That’s the best I’ve got for you this week. And I won’t even lie and tell you I hope I have something more exciting to write next week. Life usually has a way of furnishing some form of drama. Eventually. I don’t need to wish for it to come faster. I promise to write next week. About something. And if it’s peaceful and unexciting…well, hooray for me!

Posted in Inspiration, Life and tagged , , , , | Leave a comment
15 Jun 2013
4 Comments

Sometimes less is more. And sometimes it’s just less…

When I stopped eating sugar, grains, and starch, I did a lot of things to get by. I chewed packs and packs of gum. I drank coffee and diet soda constantly. I put artificial sweetener in everything. I didn’t just put it in my coffee. I put it in my salad dressing. And on my fruit.

It helped. All of those things took the edge off. I don’t think I would have gotten through the beginning without the caffeine and the sweetener.

But after a while, the need for those things lessened. I haven’t chewed gum in about 5 years. For the past few years, a diet soda is a rare treat. I now use about a tenth of the amount of sweetener that I used to. And a couple of years ago I stopped drinking caffeine after noon. I might still have a decaf between noon and 1. But after that I stick to herbal tea.

And of course, a year ago I quit smoking.

I like living this way. I like not being a slave to things.

Please don’t misunderstand. I love artificial sweetener. I love coffee. I don’t plan on giving them up.

It has happened before that some person who is over 100 lbs overweight will tell me that artificial sweetener is bad for me. That it’s healthier to eat real sugar. And I nod and smile. Sometimes I tell them that I can’t eat sugar. That I’m allergic. That it makes me sick. Which is true. Just probably not in a way they understand “allergic” or “sick”. But it’s none of their business. And I certainly don’t mock them. Or shame them. But I do sometimes wonder if they see the irony. I mean, I’m in a healthy body with beautiful skin and clear eyes. I radiate “healthy glow”.

But then this week, I got mad at myself. For having another coffee shake. (Black coffee, ice and sweetener in the blender.) 3 instead of 2. All before noon. After I drank the 64 oz of water I drink every day.

I don’t know why I got so judgy. But I didn’t like it. That is not the kind of person I want to be to myself.

It’s true that I don’t want a love of indulgence to be the center of my life. But it’s not! And I don’t love “restricting” myself. It’s not about restriction. I mostly love the way it feels to live in a body with less junk in it. And I love “not needing” one more coffee, more than I love “not having” one more coffee.

But this is what occurs to me. This is some incarnation of my eating disorder brain. And it’s one I never thought I had. Anorexia. I never starved myself. I could never go long without eating. But just like the bulimic girl, and the fat girl, and the good girl who live in my head, there is an anorexic girl. And I don’t know that I have ever distinguished her voice until now. But she is harsh. And judgmental. And disgusted by my weakness. That I folded to the temptation of another coffee. When I should constantly be trying for less, not more. She wants progress toward perfection. Perfection is the goal.

And there is one more important thing I am hearing from her. Not important because she is right. Important because I need to distinguish her sickness. She tells me happiness is of no value. Peace either. Perfection is the only goal. To be attained and then maintained at all costs.

This is what I want to say about that. You don’t get a say, Anorexic Girl. You are not the kind of woman I want to be. Your desire for perfection does not impress me.

I want happiness. And peace. I want to enjoy my life. And the fluidity of it. The dance. And I don’t want to focus on what I can’t, don’t or shouldn’t. I have my commitment to my food boundaries. And to never eating sugar, grains, or starch. And I even have some guidelines around coffee and artificial sweetener. All of these things enhance my life. These things make my life bigger, not smaller.

Someday I might decide to stop drinking coffee. Or using artificial sweetener. (I said I might!) But if I do, it will be because I want to give myself something. Not to take something away.

Posted in Inspiration, Life, Relationships and tagged , , , , , , ,
09 Jun 2013
1 Comment

Now that I have everything I ever wanted, I guess it’s “back to the ol’ drawing board”

This past Thursday, I turned 36. It was fantastic. Best birthday ever. Didn’t do much out of the ordinary. Got a few hours of sun. Did some laundry and grocery shopping. Ate like a queen. (But I always eat like a queen.) Got a fancy diamond necklace. (Ok, that was a super-exciting-out-of-the-ordinary-big-deal.) And watched some Walking Dead.

But my birthday brought something to my attention, as I am one who likes to take inventory at times of ending/beginning. I do it at the New Year, too.

I started this blog in a new year. Jan 2, 2012. Because I was tired of being alone. And lonely. And because I had spent my life as a sugar-addicted-binge-eater hiding. Unwilling to take risks with my heart. Terrified of rejection.

That day, a year and a half ago, I knew that I was beautiful. And likable. Smart and funny. And that I was a good person. Honest and honorable. Kind and loving. And working to be more every day. I knew intellectually. But I lived in an old conception of myself.

I was absolutely, positively sure that I was destined to be alone. That I had been fat because I was broken. And that being broken made me unloveable. Or I was unloveable because I was broken. Either way, I more than “knew” that nobody would ever love me. I existed in the reality of it.

And somehow, in January of 2012, I knew that I wanted out of that reality.

So I started writing this blog. To get the demons out. And get the crazy out of my head. And try some new thoughts. And some new actions. And to stop living like I was still the girl I had been. Not just fat. But miserable. And crazy. A liar and a cheater. And incapable of stopping eating.

Because I had stopped eating! And stopped lying! And stopped cheating! I had learned how to live with integrity. How to honor my word. I had learned how to be a person I liked. And loved and respected.

So I started writing this blog to give myself a chance to fall in love. Because I was pretty darn sure that falling in love, (and being in love, and staying in love) was the most important thing to me. That it was what I wanted more than anything else in the whole world. And I thought that saying out loud, all of the thoughts that lived in my head, that I was afraid were true, would prove that they were not monsters under the bed. Just dust bunnies. I thought that this blog could be the flashlight. If I would just have the courage to look.

And it worked. Holy sh*t! It actually worked!

I am madly in love. With a man who is madly in love with me. And I was right. Loving this man, and being loved by him, is the most important thing that I have ever done in my life. It is actually bigger and easier and more special than my fat, food-addicted, miserable past-self could ever have known to wish for.

But this blog is still not over. It’s not done. And I’m not done with it.

I don’t know what comes next. What the next goal is. The next wish. The next dream. But there must be one. Because it never occurred to me to be done. It merely occurred to me that I got exactly what I asked for. Only better. And more quickly than I could have imagined.

So I’ll keep thinking about what I want next. And in the mean time, I will keep writing to you every week. And keep you posted on what it’s like for me to be a woman who lives with eating disorders.

Posted in Inspiration, Life, Relationships and tagged , , , , , , , , ,
01 Jun 2013

I’m like a super hero. I’m so fast, my own body has to catch up to me.

So it’s weigh day. And for the second month in a row I lost weight. (Yay!) I’m down another 1.4 lbs. I’m at 158.8. It’s good. I’m grateful for it. I’m trying not to wish for it to go faster.

I have done a pretty good job of not focusing on my body. (Except for my tan, anyway. I have spent a lot of time focusing on that.) I haven’t been eating “lighter”. I have not been choosing “diet” foods. I have been eating plenty of bacon and cheese. Always, of course, within my boundaries. But I have not been trying to help the weight loss along. Or hurry it up. I’ve got enough to process without also trying to manage my weight.

Eat within my boundaries. That’s all I have to do. It’s enough.

Also, I have been very emotional lately. Very emotional.

Yes, I am happy. Still. More happy every day, really.

But I forget that the kind of life change I just made, accompanied by a physical move half way across the country, is traumatic. That it would be for anyone in the world. And that love doesn’t make it not traumatic. It just makes me forget that it’s traumatic. But even if I forget or fail to notice that I just jumped into a new life with no preparation and almost no time to adjust, my body has noticed. My heart and soul are overjoyed. I know that I am in the right place. With the right person. But my body is letting me know that it has to deal with the upheaval.

There are two things that are happening that have me understand that my body is in shock. I have a stress-related form of eczema. I have had it most of my memorable life. And I am having a particularly severe outbreak right now. And on a few occasions now, I have found myself crying over silly things. Irrational crying. In other words, I am having feelings that I can’t explain and I don’t know how to manage.

And I don’t get to eat them.

These kinds of feelings and experiences are why I ate sugar. Why I was a binge eater and sugar addict. Because sugar got me crazy high. Anesthetized. So I didn’t have to deal with feelings. And I didn’t have to deal with discomfort. And the not dealing occurred like managing.

But that was not the reality. I was not managing. The thing about not dealing with feelings is that they don’t go away. They just become dormant. Until they’re not anymore. Until they come back with a vengeance. From out of nowhere. When I least expect them.

So I’m not eating over my irrational emotions. And I’m not trying to hide or stifle or contain them. I’m crying when I feel the need to cry. And honoring what is going on in my body. And letting it be what it is. Because it is what it is. And carbs and sugar and binge eating won’t change that.

And then I’m trusting. That everything is going exactly the way it should be going. And that life is giving me the right things at the right time. And that as long as I keep my food under control I can come from a place of love. And that when I come from love, I can’t do it wrong or mess it up or fail. Because I know I’m where I want to be. And where I’m supposed to be. And with the person I’m supposed to be with.

I have heard it said that the only way around is through. So I’m going straight through. Right through the center. Because when this adjustment is done, I want it to be really done. And when I have moved on, I want to really be moved on.

I like to live clean. Honest, with integrity, and in the present moment. And I can say at this particular present moment, as I hit the “publish” button to post this, that I am well and happy. And that there is nowhere else I’d rather be.

Posted in Body image, Inspiration, Life, Relationships and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Post Navigation

← Older Entries
Newer Entries →