onceafatgirl

Peace is better than chocolate

Archive for the tag “peace”

Less to push against

When I was a nanny, there was a very specific trick I learned to get a sleep hating kid to go to sleep. You have to NOT CARE if the kid goes to sleep.

Why does it work? I have my theories. Kids are energy vampires. If you have ever held a newborn you may have noticed that they don’t actually do anything, but *you* are exhausted anyway. And if you have any anxious energy for a kid to PUSH against, they will. But anyway no matter why it works, it *does* work. 

Well this week the kittens in the back yard of our apartment came back. With their very pregnant momma ready to drop another litter. And it occurred to me that they came back, because I stopped wanting one of them to choose me. Because my husband and I agreed to go to the shelter and adopt a kitten there. And now there is no anxious energy from me for them to push against. 

Is this true? I don’t know. But it definitely fits a pattern I am used to.

When I got my eating under control I started to learn to accept that I would not get everything I wanted, and that was OK. And then I started to realize that every time I didn’t get what I wanted, I got something better. So it was actually better than OK.

It takes a constant reregulating of my expectations. Desire, disappointment, mourning, acceptance of the reality of any situation. A cycling through of all of the emotions I need to catch up to the moment. And that hasn’t really changed. But the gift of doing this for almost 20 years is time. It takes so much less time for me to be disappointed. And I don’t have to NOT be disappointed. I don’t have to suck it up and be a grown up. I can feel however I feel. It just serves me to get through those feelings quicker.

So we are still going to the shelter in two weeks to find a kitten to adopt. But in the meantime we are feeding momma and her babies. And my husband keeps insisting to the strays that they missed their chance to be adopted by us. But we all know what happens when a guy insists he doesn’t want a pet….

I’m betting it’s for the best

When I was young, I think 20, I went to a (fairly controversial) self-help seminar. And because I was still actively eating compulsively, I heard a lot of good things, but I, personally, lacked the tools to put them into practice. 

One of those things specifically, is that when you make a commitment, you change the trajectory of your life. 

Those are great words. But without a frame of reference it was hard for 20-year-old Kate to comprehend what that meant. And I was just really not capable of commitment then. I didn’t know that, though. 

Because commitment is only commitment after it has been tested. And getting my eating under control in my current food program 19+ years ago was my first real follow through. And that paved the way for all my other commitments.

Well my husband and I have decided that we are getting a kitten in a few weeks when we get back from a week long vacation.

One of the reasons we have not before is because we travel for my husband’s job. A lot. And that is now another moving part in finding housing for us on the road. So that is a minimum of 1.5 bathrooms, a dishwasher, an in unit washer dryer and now pet friendly.

But cats keep finding me. And needing me. But ultimately not wanting to be pets. 

Besides the cats that live in our suburban neighborhood, that my neighbor has been feeding for us while we are on the road, here in our second apartment, there were 3 little kittens that I fed for several weeks. But once they were bigger, they disappeared. 

And I feel like Life is telling me that I need to find the cat that is my cat. 

And that will change the trajectory of my life. But how could it not? That is a new little (or big) personality living in my home. 

But I guess the most important thing is that I don’t have any idea *how* it will change the trajectory of my life. I know that right now I can’t imagine what getting my first pet at 48 will create. Just like I could never have imagined how getting my eating under control would not just change my weight, but my health, my peace, my self-love, my humility, my compassion, my creativity, my integrity, really just everything. For the best.

L toR: Leo, Gus, and Baby Donut (BD got their own food when the big ones left)

The price of magic

With having my eating under control for almost two decades, the food part – the not eating sugar and carbs, the weighing my food, the abstaining from eating between portion controlled meals – is usually on autopilot. And having all of that basically running in the background all the time, gives me time to actively work on other things. My relationship with myself. My own authenticity and the kind of life I want to live. My relationships between my authentic self and the people in my life. The ways I want to communicate. The ways I want to land. What I want to create in my community and the world. 

And that is just relationships. That is not the learning I do. The making. The expanding.

It is exciting to talk about all of those things and the work I am putting in. All of the breakdowns and breakthroughs of my humanity. 

But I feel like I would be remiss if I didn’t note that all of this is based on me actively having my eating under control. Doing it all the time without exception.

My ability to grow all goes away if I start to eat compulsively again. Because having my eating under control is where my self esteem STARTS. Period. All of my self love and self respect come from my willingness to stop putting my drug foods in my body, and my ability to follow through. 

If you have never been an addict, there is a thing in us that feels ultimately incomplete and wrong any time we are not high on our drug. And then broken for feeling that way any time we realize we can’t stop. That is a bunch of broken promises to ourselves that seem to reinforce that we are, in fact, broken. 

And those feelings don’t go away the moment you put your addiction down. They slowly fade over years. SLOWLY!

There are a lot of things that I get from giving up my addiction, but, like I said, the first one is self esteem. And that makes knowing what I want so much easier. I am not wondering if I should want what I want. I am not wondering what other people think about what I value. I like me enough. I respect me. I know I’m worth having an opinion.

In fantasy books, one rule is alway clear: Magic always costs something. Keeping my eating under control is the price of this magic. Practicing it every day is the spell. 

The slow road

I decided recently to stop showing people my crochet projects before they are done. There is some science behind it. That the praise of others gives you the same reward chemicals as actually finishing the project. 

There is a thing that people who do what I do with food say. “If you want what I have, do what I do.” Mostly we mean, “if I look happy and peaceful to you then maybe you should try giving up sugar and put boundaries around your eating.” 

And sometimes we say it outside of the group. A little inside joke. When someone says they could never do what we do, one person I know always tells them “that’s fine. I don’t want what you have.” 

But sometimes it means something *within* the group. There are people who are doing all of the same things with food that I am. But they have a life I don’t want. I am not saying it’s not a good life. Just one not good for me. So I don’t take life advice from them. Food help, absolutely. Life advice? Absolutely not.

Getting my eating under control let me see how specific I could start to be about what I wanted for myself. Every specificity was a little more authenticity. And authenticity, not praise or popularity, was the goal. 

Because it’s the knowing what I want that is often the sticking point. In getting my eating under control, I started to realize that the way I had lived, what I *wanted* up until that point was just reward chemicals in my brain. Very much short term gratification. 

Denying myself reward chemicals in the form of food was the first step to delayed gratification for me. Eventually I would start my slow hobbies. Set positively unrealistic expectations for myself that I would actually end up meeting in a very realistic time frames. (I wanted to be able to design crochet as a beginner 15+ years ago. Before I could read a pattern…But yes. I now design my own dolls and art pieces.) And fail and persevere repeatedly for over a decade.

There are many things I dislike about perimenopause, but one thing I love is how self aware and self involved I am becoming. Caring more for pleasing myself than others. And yet I am so much less selfish than I was when I was in the food. 

What I want is a rich and satisfying life of contentment and creative expression. And the road to that is slow by nature.

Get in line

I saw a video on social media this week that I have been thinking about. It was about how to spot and stop manipulators. But the point was that the hardest person to manipulate is the one who is in alignment with themselves.

The person who knows what they want, what they stand for, what they want to achieve and create, and who they want to be in the world, isn’t going to be swayed by anything other than something even more in alignment with their heart and head. 

I spend a lot of time worrying I’m doing life wrong. And will probably never entirely grow out of it. But this was a nice little reminder for me. 

Because getting my eating under control is how I learned to listen to myself. I had so much noise in my head when I was eating compulsively. Most of it was about food and eating and craving, but it was also about shame. What I did wrong. What I failed to do. How I was lacking. How I was broken. How I was ugly and wrong.

When I was in the food, I could not see what I wanted. And if I thought I could, but the world didn’t agree, I assumed I was wrong, not the world. 

But here’s the thing. The world often doesn’t agree with me. I’m not particularly interested in its conventions. And once I made friends with that, it was easier to be authentic. After all, the world doesn’t really want me to quit sugar and grains. It upsets a whole group. People who have zero stake in my eating have had all sorts of opinions about it. Strangers! And there is a whole ultra specific group that thinks that what I do is not only useless but harmful. People on the internet insisting that sugar addiction isn’t a thing. That it is about food morality. That I am a fatphobe monster because I assert that I have a problem with sugar and that sugar can be addictive. 

Look. Just to clarify, I don’t think every fat person is an addict. I don’t care if a person is fat. I don’t think fat people need to lose weight. I don’t think that anyone owes anyone else any explanations of their food or their body.

But I was getting drunk on sugar from childhood and it was ruining my life. And want to help a compulsive eater and sugar addict who still suffers. (P.S. Not all sugar addicts are fat. I want to help them too.)

But that is part of how getting my eating under control helped me align myself and my principles and my past. It was only in putting boundaries around my eating that I could separate my fatness from my addiction. Come to love my body in all its iterations. To feed it nourishing foods. And not worry about health or weight. Just worry about not doing my drug foods. Just worry about not using. Take the morality *out* of food.

And every time I make a choice that makes people who are not me look at me funny, I remember who I am, what I want, what I want to create and what legacy I am leaving. And I have enough clarity of mind and purpose to actually know the answer. And all of that is the culmination of 19 1/2 years of keeping boundaries around my eating. 

Probably not the last time either

This past week has been enlightening for me as a person looking to continue to grow. I always forget that most real spiritual breakthroughs in my life happen through breakdowns. I always think about the joys of the other side without remembering the absolute physical, mental, and emotional misery of the catalyst for it. 

The 2 month period that led up to me quitting sugar and putting boundaries around my eating was emotional torture. But people who saw me then said I seemed fine. Perfectly normal. 

The months that led up to me no longer weighing my body and no longer judging my life based on the size of my body were riddled with uncontrollable weight gain, nightmares and stress hormones, and crying jags I couldn’t control.

This week it took some time to get me out of my woe-is-me-feelings. But they say to do service to feel better. So I did some stuff for other people. Which got me out of my head. And I decided on my amends. (I ended up donating to the GFM for Burn the Cape by Dr. Raquel Martin.) So that I could move on. Because I hurt someone by accident and then I got terrified that I would do it again. And I made myself as small as I could be. Made as little movement as I could. Froze right in place and stayed as still as possible. 

Because that is how it goes for me. I be whatever I am. And I get bigger. Weirder. Sillier. And then make a mistake and hurt someone. Again. And I freeze. Then I flee. And I go and hide. 

Getting fatter was absolutely a way for me to get smaller when I was still eating compulsively. More invisible. A way to have less impact. To be less seen. To hide in plain sight. I definitely did not know that intellectually at the time. And the being high on sugar helped me not know.

This is a difficult thing to explain. If you know me you may already think I’m “big and weird and silly.” You may think I have a gigantic personality. Which I do. But even that is still a stifled little girl doing a cha cha dance of trying to never ever make a mistake and then making one anyway and then quitting the dance and then 5-6-7-8… 

And that is the lesson here for me. That the shutting down and the woe is me and the hiding away is not authentic. It’s a way for me to stop and regroup and figure out what is palatable. What’s a tolerable dose of Kate? Let’s get it in that range. 

That is a problem. For me, anyway. Because what got me here to my sugar addiction and compulsive eating being arrested, and loving my life, and being in a loving and happy marriage, has been an uncovering of who I am. Very much *not* the making myself easier to digest. My life is better because I care about my authentic self. 

I understand a few things. 

My ego is not particularly big but it is fragile AF!

My impact in the world, and not my intention, is what I am responsible for. So that ALSO MEANS I don’t have to have a whole emotional breakdown about being a scourge on humanity because I made a joke that landed a way I didn’t mean for a person I really like. I can make it about my integrity (a thing I can do something about) and not my ego (an amorphous blob of ever changing and impossible standards.)

I just want to say that over these past 2+ years I have seen an incredible transformation in so many aspects of my life. My breathing health. My mental health. My physical strength and wellbeing. My balance. My willingness to see the doctor regularly and to get blood work done.

I am clearly changing for something. Into something. And I expect it won’t be the last time either.

Practice makes me proud of myself

I watched a video on social media this week about how if you want to truly be an activist a great step to take is to start some slow hobbies. To learn how to continuously work and wait with hope.

Not results.

And I looked at myself, which I do when I am confronted with something that I want or am afraid that I lack, and I realized that that is what having my eating under control has been teaching me, a day at a time, for over 19 years. 

In fact, it was in getting my eating under control that I not only returned to crochet, but for the first time in my life, had the wherewithal, the attention span, the patience, and the cognitive capacity to significantly advance my skills. Then I had the desire to take on yet another craft, knitting. Then embroidery. Weaving. All the while still learning new crochet techniques. New knitting. Trying new things. Designing! Designing crochet dolls. Designing crochet doll clothes. Designing accessories for dolls. 

I can make things that only existed in my head before! Things that were once just yarn and stuffing and my imagination are now art.

But that took time. So much time. So many years of trials and failures and biting off more than I could chew. And sometimes managing to succeed anyway! And sometimes just not. And having to take 2 steps back. And having to take 200 steps back! Years, coming on decades.

Addiction and instant gratification have a lot in common. And there are many ways that they overlap. When I was in the food, actively in my sugar addiction and eating compulsively, the instant gratification of sugar always got me too high to really be able to advance in learning much of anything. And any project that didn’t come out the way I expected was a miserable failure. And anything I did had to be done in a frenzied burst, before I got too high on sugar and sort of ran out of steam.

I did creating but it was always long on idea and short on execution.

When I put boundaries around my eating, first thing I had to learn was to wait at least 4 hours between meals, plus over night for breakfast. That felt like an eternity to me. It was literally painful sometimes. It sometimes felt like I was going to die. That’s not hyperbole. It’s addiction.

So learning to wait to eat was a lesson. Then doing something to pass the time was a lesson. Then rediscovering my love of learning was a lesson.

Keeping my eating under control is a practice. There is no end goal. It’s an ongoing lifetime goal of authentic living. It’s a lifetime commitment to process. And I only have that because I happen to be a sugar addict, who is now in recovery. A happy outcome to a shitty situation.

So many of the best and most fulfilling aspects of my life are a direct result of getting my eating under control and thereby gaining the ability and possibility of choosing delayed gratification. The possibility of practice. Of doing something just because I do it.

Because if I am goal oriented, at 4:30 in the morning, my butt is not going to be as good an incentive to get out of bed. But I am going to get out of bed anyway, because I work out with my husband at 5, so I may as well get that butt. It’s the workout that is the practice. An hour a day, 5 days a week, to practice loving movement and strengthening of my sacred vessel.

My workout, my meditation, my sleep, my skin care, and my eating are all ways that I take care of myself every day. And any results are from consistency and are a bonus. I do them because the practice makes me proud of myself. Period.

It is a blessing for me to have learned the lesson of patience, of growth, of worthwhile things taking time to build, before the pervasiveness of things like Door Dash and Amazon Prime. Because I cannot imagine how much less patience, or how little capacity for change I would have now if I had not put boundaries around my eating 19 years ago. 

It’s worth the reminder for myself that worthwhile things take patience and time. And that the things that I want and want to be a part of, are going to take, not just work, but work, plus time and hope. 

Do the next thing and hope it’s the right thing

Throughout my life I spent a lot of time being told “the way it is” about so many things. And really just not believing. Just deciding that I was going to do it my way and see what could happen. 

I definitely did not choose the path of least resistance. Kind of ever. 

But when it came to my body I *never* believed there was any other possibility than the very narrow one I felt confined to. I was fat. I had a certain shape. That was just the way it was.

When I quit sugar and carbohydrates and started to weigh my food 19 years ago, that was the very first time that I felt like I had any control over my body. Before that my own body had felt like a curse and a force of nature. I could lose weight, but I could never really stop eating. Every weight loss felt like a lie. I KNEW that it was unsustainable. Until I stopped putting my drug in my system. 

So ok. That was amazing. I could stop eating sugar and I could be “not fat.” But I still had a very specific shape and it was “weird.” I had to dress to “hide my flaws.” My weight distribution was all up front. I had  big belly. I had wide hips but no butt. My shorter right leg (from when I was born with a club foot and they put me in a full cast from hip to toe) was bigger and stronger and so was/is my right foot. I carried almost all of my weight on it all the time. My right hip hurt constantly. It was just the way it was. And it was still a more comfortable and easy body than when I was eating compulsively.

And then I started walking stairs and as my butt got bigger my center of balance moved way back so I was no longer balancing on my toes. And my belly got smaller as my balance shifted back. But as my legs got stronger and stronger my back started to get tighter and I had to spend a lot of time stretching and massaging my leg muscles to open my back up.

So a couple of weeks ago I started using a lift in my right shoe to accommodate the full one inch difference between my left and right legs. And that ended up making a huge difference in my back. 

In less than 2 full weeks it has reduced my back and hip pain and significantly increased my range of motion backwards. 

None of these things ever felt like anything I had any kind of power over. They felt predestined and set in stone. But I just didn’t know anything. And when people or media or movies told me about “how it was” with bodies like my body, I just believed them in a way I didn’t for almost anything else.

I was ashamed of myself and my body when I was in the food. Ashamed of my fatness, ashamed of my shape, ashamed of any anomalous aspect. And that kept me from even thinking of simple fixes. I would have to be worthy of that. I would have to just be in need of a little help. Not irrevocably broken…

But now that my eating is under control, I love my body. The beautiful, the weird, and the weirdly beautiful. And by loving my body I have a shot at taking an action that leads to me loving it more. Like putting a lift in my shoe. 

I am trying to remember every day and in all things that there is no “way it is.” There is only the way it has been and my choice of what to do next for myself and my community. And I’m trying to remember that I did not know what was possible before I started any of these things. I just did the next thing and hoped it was the right thing. 

Connection collection

I don’t spend a lot of time with people other than my husband. And I like it that way. I have certainly set it up that way for myself. We often live in a different city every year or two and I am not out and about making friends. 

I am at the grocery stores and the craft shops or at home cooking and crafting. I talk to my friends on the phone who are mostly out of state anyway. 

But my husband turned 50 this week! (Yay!) And his grandma turned 90 the same day! (Wow!) So we flew from SLC home to Chicago for a few days. We drove to Indianapolis to visit his grandma. Plus he got to reunite with his step daughter and meet his step grandson for the first time. Not to mention hanging out with the usual suspects when we’re home for a few days. And the neighbor cat was convinced to love me again with (multiple) treats!!! So there was a lot of face to face interaction. With lots of people. Some new.

But it was easy. And the reason is because when I have my eating disorder and sugar addiction under control I don’t spend my time worrying about what other people think of me. I like me. I act and think and behave according to my own heart. And when I don’t I apologize and make amends. You either like me or you don’t. It’s not really my concern. 

And that leaves lots of room for connection. The people who love me and whom I love are MY PEOPLE. And I don’t have to do anything to make them like me. I don’t have to contort myself. I am just the most authentic that I can be. And in all that freedom there is so much room for friendship, camaraderie, community, laughter, mourning, and love. 

When I got my eating under control 19 years ago, I didn’t have a lot of sense of community. Actually I felt like I knew what community was. I came from a big family. But they felt very unwelcoming to me. And I had friends, but in retrospect, many of them were also unwelcoming. Jealous or snide or mean. And I was some side of that coin with many people. There are very few people from my past that I am friends with. (I have new friends. In my food program and out.)

But then all of a sudden I had a food program and these women (and men but mostly women) who wanted to help me keep my commitments to myself. And they were willing to give me their time and energy and wisdom, because someone had done it for them. And I was expected to do it as well when called upon. 

And the thing about community, even when there are people I don’t like, because there are definitely people in my food program that I don’t like, is that it makes for quality connections. And connections make us feel necessary. Seen and acknowledged. And that feels good. It even feels good to do something helpful and generous for the people you don’t like sometimes. Very proud, at the very least. 

It has been a joy to be around these people this week. Laughter and tears and intimate conversations and stupid stuff too. 

Don’t get me wrong. I’m exhausted. I can’t wait to go hide in my SLC apartment and craft like the goblin I am. But this week has been a wonderful reminder of how much love there is in my life. And I only have it and feel it because I am not compulsively eating drug foods.

Is this growth? (Probably not but it is different.)

I have been rationing Sweet n Low since yesterday when I realized that I didn’t have any more in the house than what was on my counter (unheard of, frankly) and I didn’t want to leave the house to go get more. In fact I don’t want to leave the house until tomorrow. So I divided it up and I have been using it wisely. 

I need you to know that when I was in the food I absolutely would have left the house in the middle of a blizzard on foot to get ice cream. And maybe even have eaten all or most of it on the way home. So I probably got a lot more than just ice cream.

But now I keep my eating boundaries the way I chased sugar. So if I think I need some artificial sweetener or I don’t know what I am going to do, you’re damn right I am going to get me some artificial sweetener. 

But today, 19 years into having my eating under control, I can just ration out my artificial sweetener. I don’t need to go out in a blizzard, or even just when I don’t want to, to get my pacifier. I can manage.

If you think I am going to be ashamed or embarrassed by my “pacifier,” please think again. I do whatever it takes to keep my sugar addiction under control. And almost 2 decades of being in control doesn’t make me less of an addict, it just makes it harder to remember how desperate I was at 28, not being able to stop eating, and doing all sorts of awful things to my body to try to keep my weight down. 

But it feels kind of good to not NEED to leave the house. And honestly, I have not felt deprived using less. Perhaps I planted a seed for myself. To cut down (someday), or even let it go (eventually.) 

But not today.

Post Navigation