onceafatgirl

Peace is better than chocolate

Archive for the tag “sugar addict”

12 Mar 2023
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The thing that is killing me quickest

In the past 17 years since I got my sugar addiction and eating disorders under control I realized that a lot of people come to recovery wanting to change everything about their lives now. Right now! And I heard people with a lot of time in recovery say “for now, just quit the one thing that is killing you quickest.”


And that was amazing advice. I smoked for the first 6 or 7 years of having my eating under control. Because eating compulsively was definitely killing me quickest. (Physically? Who knows. But personally, emotionally, mentally and spiritually? Absolutely.)


I could only quit cigarettes because I had already gotten my eating taken care of to the point that I wasn’t afraid of the food anymore.


Well, this week I went to a doc-in-a-box because I was running out of the rescue inhaler I have been using for the last three months. And the very nice doctor (or nurse practitioner? Whatever) said that using a rescue inhaler every day is an issue. So she prescribed me a maintenance inhaler. And she told me that I need to get a primary doctor. That whatever I have is not something that she can diagnose. And that it is a big deal.


So apparently the thing that is killing me quickest currently is my fear of doctors.

I have trauma around doctors and medical professionals. You know that thing that Maya Angelou said? “I’ve learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.” The culture of doctors and healthcare providers has always made me feel shamed, unworthy, and unwelcome. And while I was stressing over whether or not a doctor would refill my rescue inhaler prescription, I realized that I am afraid that I have to “deserve” healthcare. By being a good girl. By taking care of myself perfectly. By being worthy of a doctor’s time and attention.


Because when I was fat, I was always made to feel that I *didn’t* deserve to be taken care of. Because if I really cared about myself I would not have been fat. And if I didn’t care enough to stop eating, I didn’t deserve care from others. This is the way it is for a lot of fat people. And many of them have not had the privilege I have of being relatively healthy. I have not needed a doctor in the past 25 years. But I am 45 now. And apparently have some sort of lung issues. And I have to take some actions to find a doctor to be *my* doctor.


Just the thought makes me very emotional. And very afraid. But I am not a fool. And I do know that this is the thing that is killing me quickest. So just like any other thing I know is not serving my needs, I will change it. Slowly I don’t doubt. And imperfectly I am sure. But I will change it. One day at a time. One step at a time.

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05 Mar 2023

Fun at parties, but also, exhausted.

My husband and I flew home for a long weekend, and for the past few nights we have been staying up late and socializing. And I am exhausted. Not physically. Emotionally.

I am an outgoing person with a big personality and a lot of funny stories. In other words, I’m fun at parties. And I love being around people. But it’s a lot for me. It takes a lot out of me. 

This has generally always been true, but I did not necessarily know it when I was younger. What I do remember is that I would “disappear” from social life for long periods of time – weeks or even months sometimes – and my friends would call and I might or might not call back. And this often felt very shameful for me. 

The thing is, when I was giving all of my extroverted charm and entertainment, people decided that that was what I was really like. And they told me so. And I was either not confident enough in myself or not aware enough of my own heart and mind to recognize that my inner life and my outer life didn’t always match up in the ways others were telling me they did. And I thought it meant they should. 

In the past 17 years of having my eating under control I have realized that I have a reaction to how I think I should be, and it feels true, whether or not it is. And that reaction is a kind of panic. And I actively have to dismantle it. I have to put words to the panic, assess their value in the moment, and decide on a course of action that works for me.

In getting my eating under control I have the clarity to see that the panic is a feeling, not a truth. And that I have plenty of time to assess any given situation and act accordingly. Not as a rash decision, but as a calm evaluation of the circumstances. So today, I don’t have to feel bad or wrong or ashamed for being exhausted. And I can decide for myself what to do about it. 

Because another thing I got by getting my eating under control is the ability to make choices and not have to second guess myself. The ability to decide what is right for me and what I need and not have to be embarrassed about putting myself first.

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26 Feb 2023

Commitment and follow through >>>

One of the ways I have created a life I enjoy is through the liberal use of benchmarks and bare minimums. There are things that I do daily or weekly as means of self care, and I do them because I do them and not because I like to. Not even because I like the results. (Though I do like the results of my commitments.)

I never feel like exercising. Ok. That is not entirely true. About twice a year, I really look forward to it. That leaves another approximately 258 days a year in which I know I should work out, for my physical health, my mental state and my spiritual life, but still really really REALLY don’t want to. (Ok, that last REALLY is probably a little bit overboard, but just a little.)

This past week I had a hard time getting myself to exercise. I did it, but I started later than usual because I was unmotivated. My ass was draggin’, if you will. And it took days to realize that it’s because I’m a little sick. (I swear! I have been sick more in the past year than I have in the past 20.) Nothing crazy. Not covid. And not bad at all. The kind of sick that pre-2020, I would have easily gone into work with. The kind that barely phases a person. 

But it made me deflate at the idea of working out. And then *that* made me feel bad. It made me feel like I was wasting my time. That two weeks ago I was done before 9:30 in the morning and here it was, after 10 and I was still not moving.

So I started to remind myself this week, that it is a matter of my priorities. And that I don’t have to do things perfectly. 

My acts of self care are a priority. But I can be hard on myself for the way I feel about it. Or I can get caught up in the “right way” to do those things. Or I can be upset about not doing them as early or as quickly or as enthusiastically as I can, or did yesterday, or feel like I should. 

These kinds of feelings used to take me out. Exercise was an hour later than yesterday? Might as well not do it at all. I didn’t drink all my water before noon? Do I really care about drinking water? I didn’t do my writing meditation yet? Is it really doing anything for me anyway?

My life is made better by my “practices.” The things I do because I do them. Not because I’m looking for results. The irony, of course, is that doing things as a practice rather than with an eye towards results is the best way for me to get actual results.

I am remembering today to be kind to myself. That I do the things I do because the act doing makes my life better. Because the commitment and the follow through are creating results, whether or not the workout itself is.

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19 Feb 2023

Risky Business

I am a person who can, and does, eat the same thing every day. There are parts of my dinner that I have literally eaten every day for over a decade and a half.

For me, it is more important to know I am going to love my food than it is to have variety. 

But my husband…not so much. (Poor husband…) So we have been trying new dishes for dinner. And at least the roasted lemon chicken is a success. (We are giving the pork tacos another shot this coming week on Taco Tuesday!)

But it is a whole mental gymnastics routine for me to prepare for something new. Because I have a literal fear of a bad meal. Hell, I don’t even like it when my meal is mediocre! 

I spent my life before my eating boundaries worried that there would not be enough food. And in many ways, there wasn’t enough to satisfy me. I mostly ate sugar and carbs, which set up a craving for more of the same, so no matter how much I ate, I still wanted more.

So when I started weighing my food, knowing there would be a limited amount every day, I became much more devoted to making every bite as delicious as I could possibly make it. And that had served me well.

But when one of the most important things in my life became to eat delicious food inside my boundaries, I got rather risk averse. (Hence the whole eating the same thing every day schtick.)

But I set those worries aside and tried some new meals and they absolutely paid off. And the truth is, even if they hadn’t and one or more new recipe turned out to be a dud, there is always another meal coming. So if dinner was meh, I just have to make sure breakfast is spectacular!

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12 Feb 2023

Working to think the thoughts I want

A few weeks ago I posted about getting specific physical results from a new workout and how that can put me right back into eating disorder and body dysmorphia brain, a side effect of my sugar addiction. How it made me want to ramp up my workout to get more results faster. And how I work to quiet that voice.

Well I don’t know about you, but sometimes I like to “browser window” shop, as in look at clothes on line and then just close the tab and not buy them. But if you shop on line (and you’re any good at it) you probably know that the best way to shop is by measurements and not clothing size. Sizes differ greatly across companies, not to mention countries.

So I took my measurements. And my clothing-related measurements (bust, waist & hips) are the same as they were the last time I measured, before this new workout routine. So my size is the same. And I realized that I was so disappointed.

I can see a marked difference in the shape of my body. I can feel the difference in the way my legs fit together when I cross them. I can see a difference in the shape of my butt. I can see a difference in how much more stamina I have. 

But I had been thinking and hoping and *expecting* to be a smaller size. And I cared. Even though I don’t want to care. Even though I have spent years actively trying to disconnect the size of my body from my worth, and trying to keep my focus on my food addiction and not my weight. There is still a part of me that lights up at the idea of smaller, thinner, skinnier, a lower numbered size.

When I think about all of the ways being fat made me a joke, a punchline, a mark, a safe target growing up (and even now – fat Thor anyone?) I can see that I have 45 years of conditioning to get over to not be ashamed. That some of these thoughts are over 40 years old, and they were the way my very young brain processed the world and learned to protect itself. 

I am still going to continue to dismantle these thoughts. I am still going to love my body for all of the ways that it serves me, and pick apart the judgment I have for it not always fitting into the beauty standard. But I want to acknowledge that even knowing that I don’t respect the way we deal with beauty in Western culture, I am still subject to it. And I have to work *every day* at living the life I want and thinking the thoughts I want.

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05 Feb 2023

All my books were dirty-and I don’t mean smut

One of the hardest things about writing a weekly blog on the same topic for over a decade is that there is a lot of mundanity at certain points in a year, and we are in one of those times right now. The big holidays are over and winter in cold climates is a lot of staying home. (OK, admittedly I am a huge proponent of staying home in all seasons. But in winter, most regular non-hermit types do as well.) So I don’t have a lot of out-of-the-ordinary situations to write about.

So I guess what I will say is that getting my eating under control means I don’t eat when I am bored, or eat as a means of filling the void. And winter always used to be the perfect time to be bored, and therefore, to get cozy and eat. 

The other day on a social media group for readers, I saw someone wondering why anyone would eat while they read? They thought that sounded crazy! And I thought to myself, that is a normal eater posing that question because eating while I read was my absolute favorite! So many of my old paper books have food stains or crumbs in the creases because while I was eating compulsively, I loved to cozy up in a chair with a book and a blanket and a bunch of junk food to eat and read. 

I do still love to cozy up with a good book. But now it’s usually an audiobook, with a cup of coffee or herbal tea, and my knitting. 

Sometimes when we give up a thing that is killing us, we have to change other things about ourselves. Ways that we have integrated a bad habit into our days. Like the way I always had a cigarette and a cup of coffee on my roof first thing in the morning when I was a smoker, so when I quit smoking I had to change my morning routine and stopped going on the roof in the morning. Because certain actions set up a craving. They gave my body an expectation and triggered a particular appetite.

So I didn’t read as much when I first got my eating under control. And if I did I often did so at the bookstore, or if it was particularly late at night, at a bar, where I could drink Diet Coke in my pajamas and not worry about eating. (It was New York City, where a girl drinking Diet Coke in her pajamas at a bar after midnight is the least weird thing a bartender has to deal with.)

I am so grateful that I can still love books without eating. I am grateful that I have found a way to keep the best parts of certain habits and practices, and still give up the parts of them that were killing me. I still love a cozy day with a good book. But now I don’t also hate myself afterwards because I can’t control my eating.

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29 Jan 2023

Mad, but not at me or my integrity

Years and years ago, before I got my eating under control, I used to occasionally do “The Artist’s Way” which is a creativity workbook. I did not know it at the time but it is based on the 12 steps. And part of doing the “program” (for lack of a better term) is to write 3 pages of handwritten stream of consciousness every morning. The woman who created it called them “morning pages.” And they are based on the practice of prayer and meditation that is a big part of the 12 steps.

So when I was still eating compulsively, I was doing this workbook. And I hated morning pages. They made me frustrated and angry. And there were whole days in a row that I would literally just write “I don’t want to do this” over and over for 3 pages. 

I certainly didn’t understand it at the time, but I was angry because there were so many things on my conscience that I had shoved down so I didn’t have to look at them. And the writing was trying to bring them to the surface. To be healed. To be dealt with. To be put to rest. 

But putting them to rest meant I would have to acknowledge them. And my part in them. And the ways that I was behaving that left me ashamed. And while I was still in the food, I was never going to be able to deal with my shame.

For the last several years I have been struggling to pray and meditate. I have been angry at life. I have been so afraid for so long that it just sort of lives inside me now. My constant low level anxiety ramping up into a constant mid level anxiety. And the basis of my belief system, that Life is always right and always giving me exactly what I need, suddenly seemed untrue. Not just untrue. Like bullshit.

So I stopped praying and meditating. But that wasn’t really working for me either. I did try to get back to the happy, daily meditation I had been doing for years. And it never worked. That old routine was broken for me now and it was not going to get fixed.

But I did still want to get back into some sort of meditation practice. So I went back to “morning pages.” And it has been a great opportunity for me to clear my head. And get a good look at the things that are not clear while they are rattling around in my brain. 

But here is what I have noticed. There is no anger. There is no frustration. The past 17 years of having my eating under control, and looking at my life, and making amends for my mistakes, and owning the harm I have done, means that there is nothing in my head or heart that I can’t look at. There is nothing shoved down so I don’t have to deal with it. And if there is something that makes me uncomfortable or gives me that sense of dread, I know to look directly at it. To put it down on the page. To put the idea into words and deal with the reality of the situation.

I don’t remember what it was like to be filled with shameful secrets most of the time now. I don’t generally remember how it felt; all of the thick, slimy, suffocating feelings that went with being a person I could not like or respect. But when I do remember now, I am overwhelmed with gratitude for my freedom from self hatred.

I may still be angry. And I may still be frustrated. And I am still very much afraid. But having those feelings project out, at an unfair and cruel world, is so much easier than having them project inward, at me and my own integrity.

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22 Jan 2023

Can one exorcize the exercise demon?

Over the past few months I started a new workout. Because I didn’t want to chart a new outdoor 2 mile path. And I was bored with my workout video. And I hate the gym and exercising on equipment. So instead I have been walking the stairs in my apartment. And it has noticeably changed my body.

This is a nice thing. Or it should be a nice thing. But I am crazy. I am stupid and blind and can easily become weirdly obsessed with my body in a heartbeat.

And this in spite of the fact that I actively avoid things that trigger my body obsession. I actively avoid thinking of my body in terms of weight and societal beauty standards. I actively avoid thinking about my size in relation to food. I do not want to measure my life in terms of how worthy other people find me. And when I say actively I mean I have structures in place. I make sure that my social media feeds include images of all sorts of people. And I block diet ads and shapewear ads and companies and profiles that promote thinness as ideal and show heavily doctored photographs. And I don’t wear makeup most of the time so that I am used to what I look like. I enjoy my natural face and don’t think there’s anything wrong with it when it’s bare. That was not the case when I wore makeup every day. 

But even after all of the ways I have changed my environment to cultivate the kind of thinking I want to have, I still have a Pavlovian reaction. A change in my body, especially *toward* societal beauty standards, can make me salivate for increased results. How can I do this but bigger, better, faster, more. 

So I, in a great show of reflection and restraint, recognized my crazy, and decided that there was nothing to change. That there was no “more” to do. And if I wanted to do something more, I could add back in some push-ups and planks that I had been doing before in a different workout. OK. Good enough.

And then on Friday, at the end of my stairs workout, but before my push-ups and planks, I got a nosebleed. So I stopped. You know, to Google if I was dying. (I am not. It’s probably just dry in my apartment and the heavy breathing of exercise caused it.) But it said to stop my workout because I need my blood pressure to go down to stop the bleeding. 

Friends, before I read that I was not going to stop. Because I am crazy. Because I had a plan to do this workout. Because I am constantly terrified of not doing enough. Because even after 17 years of having my eating under control and about 7 years of consistent, manageable exercise, when I get into one of these obsessive moods, I still feel like I’m never doing enough.

There is nothing to do about this but my best. There is no magic answer to solve this, or cure it. I will do my workout tomorrow, because I workout on Monday. And I will do my push-ups and planks, unless I encounter more unforeseen circumstances. And in all likelihood, this body obsessive period will pass and go dormant again. But it is a part of me and I don’t think it will ever fully go away.

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15 Jan 2023

Avoiding the pit of despair (and carbs)

First, for those of you who are dying to know, I did finish my character doll in time to gift it to the author. I didn’t get to give it to her directly, per either her own or the book store’s policy, but the doll turned out better than I expected and I was sorry to give her away. So sorry that all this week in my free time, I have been working on a smaller version for myself. (She’s a particular shade of blue -like the grey blue of hydrangeas – and I didn’t have enough yarn to make another one the same size.)

I am proud. Proud of the doll. Proud of my progress as a crafter and an artist. Proud of my accomplishments but also of my work, my willingness to work, and my willingness to undo the work that doesn’t work.

In getting my eating under control I had to learn to live my life differently, and to view my life from a different perspective. Because when I was eating compulsively, my life revolved around my feelings and my feelings were volatile and always leaned towards discontent. So when I wanted to make something – and I did. I was an artist from a young age – I was only interested in the completed work, not the process. And I was obsessed with time. Or at least I was obsessed with the time I had already spent. So if I spent time on something and it came out wrong, I didn’t want to go back. I didn’t want to spend even more time “fixing” what I “should have done right the first time.” So I either had a thing I didn’t like, or I gave up in frustration.

In getting my eating under control I leaned to deal with difficult feelings. First hunger. I learned to be hungry and not eat. I learned that hunger, at least the kind that I was experiencing, would not kill me. (I am not talking about real hunger. I am not talking about food insecurity. I am talking about having feelings that were uncomfortable and the desire to eat my drug foods to numb those feelings.) And then frustration. And then the shame of failure.

And what I learned by feeing these difficult feelings and not eating over them is that on the other side, if I don’t numb myself, there is a choice to be made. Do I leave the mistake or do I go back and fix it? Because suddenly there was a choice. And to make it, whatever I chose, made me understand how I controlled my own life.

Of course I had always controlled my own life. But I didn’t know that. And I didn’t have the capacity to figure it out. Because I was constantly shoving those feelings down and burying them under a belly full of chocolate cake.

When I put boundaries around my eating I gave myself the opportunity to learn and grow. I did not know that I was lacking it before. Because I was smart. I was capable. I was a quick learner. But none of these things were worth anything when a stumble landed me face first in a pit of despair and carbs.

Don’t worry. Tomorrow I will be dissatisfied with my doll making skills again. In fact, I already am. And I wouldn’t have it any other way. But I am still proud of the work I have done. I just want to be better. Whatever that takes.

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08 Jan 2023

The joy of integrity

This might surprise you, but I can be an over thinker. (I know. You’re shocked.) And when I want to make a thing, especially a doll, I can spend days, or in some cases even weeks, thinking about the technicalities of a project. The plan. The design. The math. The techniques.

Well today I am going with a good friend to meet an author we both love. She had a new book come out this past week. And I devoured it in less than 2 days. (It could have been one, but it turns out my husband sometimes needs me to interact with him.) And I became obsessed with the main character. And I decided I needed to make a doll of her. For the author. Who I would be seeing in less than a week. So there was no time to plan for weeks. I had to just dive in. I decided there was nothing to do except start and keep going.

And wouldn’t you know that I worked faster, more efficiently, and just plain better than I ever have before. Ok, I am going to have to finish her hair and crochet her a dress all in about 5 hours. Can I do that? Who knows! But even with all of my meals and the regular life I have had to live, including cooking and packing for this trip back to the suburbs of Chicago, I have still managed to create a really cool thing in 4 days.

I do understand that this point I am at is a culmination of all of the work I have done up until now. All that over thinking, and all the patterns I followed, and all of the failed attempts at making my own patterns. I could not have simply jumped in like this 2 years ago. I didn’t have the legs to stand on. And I only have the legs to stand now because I have my eating under control.

It gives me the head space to learn, to build on techniques, to grow as a crafter and an artist. And it gives me the practical tools I need to keep me doing the things I need to get done outside of my art. Like eating my portion controlled meals, keeping my kitchen clean, and the laundry done, and the groceries bought. Like writing this blog even though I just want to make the dress already!

So I am going to eat my breakfast and then get back to it. Because my eating boundaries are my first priority. But making something I love and am proud of is the joy that comes from my integrity.

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