Resolved!

My New Year's Resolution every year is this: Get my shit together. Usually, that has meant that I was going to find the "right" diet and start paying off my debt and clean up my home and live like a real adult. Anyone who has read this blog knows that I have not really succeeded in many of those areas.

I did take some important steps this year, in going into a debt management plan and really starting to tackle my spending and debt problems. I have made some missteps, which has meant that I have paid some money in overdraft fees and also fallen into the online shopping rabbit hole a few times, but I have regained my footing a bit. It's a learning process to shift from relying on credit cards and ignoring a mounting problem, and I definitely still get that itch from time to time to check out by doing some mindless shopping (full disclosure: I do have a list of things I "want" when my budget allows...I don't know that I will end up buying all of them, but they are sitting on a wishlist, waiting for me to have the money for them).

My home is still a cluttered mess. I thought of using the holiday season as a "motivator" to get it cleaned up, just in case anyone had an occasion to stop by for any reason. However, I have decided that the better option is just not to have people stop by. Looking around at all this stuff just still is completely overwhelming, and the thought of cleaning it up sends me into shutdown mode. My only two goals today are to do laundry and unload and reload the dishwasher, and even that seems like too much right now. And I have some major refrigerator de-cluttering to do that I cannot even fathom right now.

And that leaves that elusive search for the "right" diet. I absolutely believe with 99% of my being that this does not exist. Often, I believe it with 100% of my being, but there are times that ED tries to convince me that is not true. I have not binged in over a week now, but I have been eating, mostly cereal with milk and peanut butter with everything and tostada shells with cheese melted on them. And everything has tasted so good! I forgot how much I like cereal. I had stopped eating it because it triggered my "need" to weight it out precisely, but now I have just been pouring it in a bowl, adding some milk, and digging in. Peanut butter is another thing I have had to measure precisely in the past, but instead I have been slathering it on my toast and savoring it. I have not had anything fancy to eat in the last week, but I have enjoyed what I have eaten, and I have not numbed out with food. And one of my favorite things about TFID is that Caroline is realistic about the fact that sometimes eating is not going to be a completely mindful activity. I am living alone, and sitting down at the kitchen table to eat my meals in a quiet environment and concentrate only on what I am eating feels like a whole lot of bullshit to me. I usually eat sitting on the couch, often in front of the TV but sometimes also with my laptop on my lap. And I always thought that I couldn't be a mindful eater because eating at the kitchen table in silence made me feel like I was going to crawl out of my skin. But TFID has given me "permission" to go with my instinct that this is a load of crap, and I can eat in front of the TV and taste my food and enjoy eating and not feel like I have to get a meal over with because the silence is driving me crazy.

I also have not stepped on my home scale for the last week or so, although I was weighed in a medical environment last week. It still calls to me because I am so used to using it to measure my worth, but I am not answering that call. And I am thinking about tossing it in the dumpster today because, if that call continues, I am not 100% confident I won't eventually answer it. I do get weighed at medical appointments on a fairly regular basis (much less often than once per week but usually every month or two), so I am not losing the ability to know my weight. But if I ditch my scale, I am losing the ability (or maybe I should say surrendering the ability) to let my daily weight control me.

So is there room in my life for a New Year's Resolution, beyond the old standby? I have one goal in mind that I am not yet working on, and it is actually something I am sincerely excited about. And it's an idea I have gotten from some of the podcasts I have been listening to. There is a book called The Artist's Way that has been mentioned on podcasts I have been listening to over the past two weeks, and although I have not read the book, I have heard a lot about one of the practices suggested by the author, and that is a practice called Morning Pages. Morning Pages are three pages of stream-of-consciousness writing, written by hand, at the beginning of the day, designed to help to awaken your creativity. Brené Brown has a great quote that kind of helped lead me to this resolution: "Unused creativity is not benign. It lives within us until it's expressed, neglected to death, or suffocated by resentment and fear." I don't think of myself as an artistic individual. I can knit, but not well. I can make jewelry, but it's not a passion of mine. I can do lettering, and I have nice handwriting, and I occasionally create something that I am proud of. But I don't have a creative passion. I have tried out a bunch of creative hobbies, but once I build my "stash" of supplies, I usually lose interest. The acquisition of these supplies? Definitely the shopping monster. The actual creative pursuit? Forgotten almost immediately.

However, I have always been told that I am a good writer. My grandfather was a good writer, and even as a child, I remember being told I took after him. My teachers generally graded my papers well. My papers in grad school are generally well-received. I have a good grasp of the written word, and sometimes I have something to say, and I can usually get my thoughts into written words without much of a problem. Does that mean I am going to write a novel someday? Maybe not. Does it mean that there will be a day that this blog will be more than an anonymous spot on the internet? Perhaps. Therefore, Morning Pages are my New Year's Resolution. And I don't necessarily mean every day...that feels too much like a compulsion. But I am going to dedicate time and space to write three pages on most days before I get my day started, and I am going to see what it is the stream of my consciousness has to say.

And I am going to be kind to myself. And I am going to be kind to others. And I am going to remind others to be kind to themselves. After all, if we don't care for ourselves, who will? If we are not worthy of our own care, how can we be worthy of the care of others?

Podcasts

At some point in the not-so-distant past, I discovered podcasts. I didn't really "get" initially that they were free, so I had not checked them out, and then I heard about "Serial" and became pretty well obsessed with it. It helped that I had some decent periods of time in the car during which I could listen to whatever I was listening to at the time. I also, at this time, was still in my discovering-Brené-Brown period, so I listened to some podcasts on which she had been a guest. Although some of the interviews were pretty repetitive, listening to her speak about her shame and vulnerability research and the importance of empathy was really powerful for me.

I spent some time listening to "Stuff You Should Know" and "Stuff You Missed in History Class," which are both pretty awesome (I especially love SYMIHC), and then I must have joined Audible because I took up audiobooks as a way to pass time in the car. However, I started listening to the podcast "Food Psych" not that long ago, which is Christy Harrison's podcast. She is a registered dietitian and intuitive eating coach, and her podcasts are actually interviews/conversations with some people who have become really interesting to me recently. And this is the podcast that lead me to Caroline Dooner, which is the creator of the Fuck It Diet (herein known as TFID). Since finding TFID, I have been searching for Caroline's other guest stints on podcasts and have really enjoyed listening to her talk about her food history and how she healed her relationship with food because, more than anything else, this has given me some hope that such healing is possible for me as well.

Although I have mentioned more than once that the HAES movement doesn't quite sit well with me, I have to admit that I am become more interested in doing some more research into it. While I don't know that this is the size I will be forever (as there are still moments that I hope that my "set point" is lower than what I weigh right now) and don't necessarily think that it's 100% okay just to say that you can be fat and healthy (because, while it is true that you can be fat and healthy, there is also the chance that being fat can lead to health problems), I do find myself wanting to listen to what Linda Bacon has to say about body size and what is not currently understood well about the relationships we have with our bodies.

More to follow on that, I guess.

Anyway, I have say that things over the course of the last couple of days have felt a lot more peaceful to me than the days before them. I find myself thinking often about the letter from my body and the pledge to my body, and I don't find myself assigning morality to the food I am eating. I have thought about what was going to taste good. I have eaten a lot of cereal. I have considered several choices and chosen the one that looked most appetizing. I ate a salad today because I wanted to. And I have only heard some whisperings from ED. He is mostly leaving me alone.

And financially, this pay period has been my most successful since I entered the DMP. I am on track not to overdraft my account, and I have not had to reschedule any bills. I have about $45 in my checking account right now, but only $30 are earmarked for things happening before payday, so I have an itty-bitty cushion that I am going to use to buy baking ingredients to make some Christmas cookies. I feel a little bit of money peace as well.

I would never suggest that this is IT! I am CURED! I have BEAT THIS THING! I know that this is not a straight line process. My depression is still very much present and not very much under control. My anxiety still breaks through at times, although it's for reasons other than money or food issues. And I cannot sleep for crap, quite honestly. I still have self-defeating and self-deprecating thoughts on occasion (although I am trying to intercept them). But I also feel like my body had some good points in its letter, and I still feel like I mean what I said in my pledge. So I will take this good feeling for as long as it lasts...I hope it will last for a long time.

Letters

The first two days of TFID had as homework having your body write a letter to you and then writing a pledge to your body. My pledge to my body also took the form of a letter, and I brought them to therapy this week and shared them with my therapist. I hesitate to say this because I can't imagine that it will last, but for this moment, I feel some body peace that I have never felt. I can't promise that I am going to be the next Virgie Tovar, but I also don't feel like I hate my body in this moment, sitting here, typing out these words.

Without further ado, I present my letter from my body to me:

Dear Enough,

It's me...your body. I am sitting here on the couch, after a long, busy day at work. I know that you're trying not to concentrate on any one thing. The TV is on, the apartment is cluttered, the dishwasher is making a weird noise, and you kind of have to pee. That feeling that you kind of have to pee? That's me talking to you. You don't usually listen to that signal until the last minute, which leads to a mad dash to the bathroom. Necessary? Maybe not.

That's not the only thing I say when I talk to you, however. Sometimes, I want to let you know that I need some better care. This might manifest as heartburn or indigestion after a dinner of ice cream, arthritis pain in your knee because of a steady diet of Skittles and soda, or a headache because of a lack of sleep (or caffeine). I have other things I would like you to hear, as well, but I can't seem to get you to listen to me.

I love movement. I love when we go to yoga together and you listen and open your mind to the lessons that the teachers have to share. I love when you take walks, especially outside walks, but the treadmill can do in a pinch! I don't like running. I am not a big fan of weight training. I can take or leave the elliptical.

So let's talk food. I don't want food to be such a battleground for us. I don't want you to have to consider whether a food is good or bad before you give it to me. I don't want you to use food to punish yourself. I want you to realize that it is okay to eat these so-called "bad" foods in moderation and that you don't have to feel guilty about them. It's okay to eat a food just because you want it. But I would love it if you would also think about what I need to run the way I have to in order to support you in your day to day life. I need to be nourished, not punished. I need to eat the occasional vegetable and plenty of protein. I can eat gluten, and I can eat carbs, and I can eat meat, and I can eat sugar. I can do all that. You don't have to cut those things out. But I can't be expected to stay in good working order if you are feeding me either a straight diet of "junk" food or almost nothing at all. It's okay to have a treat. But I can't promise that I will be able to keep working for you if you don't help me out a little bit.

I know it feels impossible. I know that the idea of allowing food to let go of the hold it has over you feels like the most foreign idea in the world. I can feel you struggle...I can hear your thoughts, even when you don't quite get them into words. I can see that moment when you transition from enjoyment of a food to the frantic shoveling in of something you can't quite taste anymore. I feel such sadness for you in those times, but I feel some panic too. After all, if you don't take care of me, no one will. Audrey has said it...she can't want recovery for you more than you want it for yourself. In the same way, I can't want recovery for you more than you want it for yourself. I am here for you, but I can't promise to be there forever if we don't figure this out...together. Please start at least trying to pay attention to what I am telling you. It will take time, but if we work on this together, maybe the signals I send you will start to be noticed, and maybe you will be able to tell that I am hungry (and hungry for actual nutritious food), and when I am physically satisfied, maybe you will feel satisfied as well. What you have been doing has not been working. For the most part, you have come to realize that dieting truly is not the answer. The "right" diet is not out there, so you and I are going to have to work together to figure this out. I am committed to you...can you be committed to me too?

Love, Your Body

And my pledge to my body:

Dear Body,

I guess that it's time for me to admit that 25+ years of dieting has not worked. I am left feeling like a failure because I couldn't wrestle you into a size and shape that I liked. I have punished you for not conforming to my ideas of what you should look like. I have not nourished you physically or mentally. I have been mean to you and called you names. And you still have done a reasonable job of carrying me through life.

You have allowed me to do work that I love. You have allowed me to reach out and give hugs to those whom I care about. You have helped me save babies’ lives and comfort grieving parents and celebrate first birthdays and stand in front of groups of people and teach them about what I do. You have kept safe my brain and my heart, even when I have not given you reason to. You let me cry when I know I am safe, and even if my darkest times, you are with me.

Instead of seeing myself as apart from you, I am going to try my hardest to join with you and continue on this life's journey. I will not force you not to eat. I will not force you to run because I know you don't like it. I will keep you active because it makes you feel better and not because I have some elaborate goal to meet. I will let you eat Skittles when you want them, but I won't force you to finish eating them just because they are there. I will not make you eat kale because we don't like it. But I will let you have food that serves as better fuel for you than what I have been giving you lately. I will work with you and not against you. I will invest in you, and I ask that you continue investing in me. I know that you have been patient when perhaps I did not deserve your patience.

Thanks for sticking with me and believing I am worth it.

Love (and I mean that),

Enough

The Fuck It Diet Mini-Course - Day 1

A couple of weeks ago, I was listening to a Food Psych podcast, and the guest that day was Caroline Dooner. I had never heard of Caroline Dooner, but she was on the podcast talking about her "diet," the Fuck It Diet. I made a mental note to check it out because it sounded like a very body-positive concept full of things that I really need to learn about and embrace. I have to work on recovery...I am out of other options. As an aside, for anyone who has never listened to Food Psych, it is Christy Harrison's podcast, and she is a registered dietitian and health coach who has really embraced the Health At Every Size concept (I have written about how I am having trouble fully embracing HAES, but a lot of what Christy has to say, as well as what her guests have to say, has been very thought-provoking for me).

Anyway...

The Mini-Course involves ten days of emails with a "lesson" (of sorts) and then a homework assignment. There is also a private Facebook group in which participants can share what they have written and learned, should they so desire. I just received day nine's email today, which means tomorrow is my last day of the Mini-Course mailings, and I have done exactly zero of the lessons. HOWEVER, today I printed out all of the lessons and homework assignments thus far with plans for reading through them in order and starting to do the work. And then probably emailing them to my therapist so that we can talk about it.

Day one's homework was to write a letter to myself from my body. I am not going to share all of what I am going to write here on the blog because I don't want to share information that Caroline spent time developing, but I do want to encourage you to check out The Fuck It Diet for yourself and consider enrolling if  you think it would be useful for you. I also would encourage you to check out Food Psych, especially the current season, which has a lot of people as guests who also embrace the HAES concept.

Malfunction. Need input.

One thing that I do a lot is "should" on myself. You know...I should eat more vegetables. I should take up running. I should go to yoga more often. It has been pointed out to me that this is not productive but can instead cause guilt and shame. Looking into what Dr. Google has to say about this, I found that "shoulding yourself" is a cognitive distortion that was first described by a psychologist named Clayton Barbeau. It basically often results in procrastination, as we try to "nag" ourselves into doing something. However, it can also take other forms (I should lose weight. I should stop spending so much money. I should vacuum my home. I should do the dishes. I should call the repairman about that broken appliance.), and it's more often the other forms that come to roost in my brain.

Something that I am really struggling with right now is maintaining basic, at-home, adult functionality. I do a passable job at work and school. I show up, I act like an adult, I interact with others, I get the job done, and I sometimes even excel. However, at home? I had my whirlwind cleaning frenzy before the repairmen came the other week. But things are starting to pile up again. I made a promise that I would stop unnecessary spending, and I have kind of done that, but I have let a few things slip through. I have not been eating to fuel my body, and as a result, I don't feel well. I am achy. My GI system is out of whack. I have headaches. I am tired.

There are also some things that I put off, knowing that I will feel "better" if I do them, but without that being enough drive to get me going. One of these things (more grossness...this one makes me feel like I am such a failure at adulthood) is showering as often as I "should." I know that a morning shower wakes me up and gives me an opportunity to feel fresh and clean throughout the day. I also know that, more often than not, although I set my alarm to give me plenty of time to fit this into my morning schedule, I often take a look in the mirror, tilt my head, decide I can get away for one more day without washing my hair, and spend that extra time on the Internet, mostly playing a variety of Facebook games. Another thing that always makes me feel better and more put-together is wearing make-up...and I have been averaging perhaps two days a week (and that number might actually be high) of doing that. But putting make-up on everyday takes all of five minutes. I "should" be able to fit that in. And on my days off...getting dressed in real clothes makes me more likely to spend the day relatively productively. Staying in my pajamas or staying in whatever workout clothes I wore to the gym that morning makes me more likely to while away the hours between wake up and bedtime sitting on the couch, surrounded by my time suck materials and wondering how long it has been since I got up to go to the bathroom. So those are three VERY CLEAR, VERY SIMPLE things that I could be doing to become less of an adult-ing dropout. But sometimes even those three things feel like impossible goals.

Hearkening back to the days of childhood, I am working on developing for myself a "chore chart." Daily goals will include showering, putting on make-up, wearing real clothes, eating three meals, drinking enough water, cleaning the dishes out of the sink, balancing my checkbook, and putting my clothes away. Non-daily goals will include physical activity (three times per week), vacuuming (weekly), paying my bills (weekly), grocery shopping (weekly), and cleaning outdated food out of the refrigerator (weekly). I have star stickers. I have a kids' reward chart for said stickers. I have an idea that maybe this visual representation of what some (very small) part of me wants to do as a path to rejoining society will help me end the endless loop of "I should" in my head and replace it with "I did." It shouldn't be that hard to turn the shower on and stand under the spray. But sometimes, to me, it's an impossible task and one that I put off for one more (and then one more after that and after that) day.

Turkey and sales and family, oh my!

And here it is, Black Friday, thought by some to be the busiest shopping day of the year (unless you have ever worked in retail, in which case you know that the busiest shopping day of the year is the Saturday before Christmas, unless that day is Christmas Eve, in which case it is the Saturday before that). And here it is, also, the day after Thanksgiving, a day filled with food and fun and family. It's like a one-two punch.

So if you have an eating disorder, Thanksgiving is a mine field dotted with triggers and good intentions. "Oh, look how good you look! You have lost so much weight!" (Yes, I have been starving myself. Thanks for noticing.) "Wow, you look so healthy!" (Yep, weight restoration worked, but now that you mentioned that, I think I will go back to restricting tomorrow.) "Why are you eating so little? Wow, you can sure pack it away! So now you're a vegetarian? Good for you!" Any comment can wake up the beast that we call ED. We might enter the dining room intent on enjoying our food and tasting everything we put in our mouths and stopping when we are full so that we don't have to hate ourselves later. But then the meal is over, and we aren't sure where the time went, and our plates are empty, and we are looking around to make sure we didn't eat everything, and that warm flush of shame makes its way up our chest and to our face, but it's easy to blame that on the wine.

And then, as a reward for getting through that day, you wake up the next day on Black Friday. Sales are EVERYWHERE. Maybe you will just LOOK. Check out the deals. There might be something that you "need." After all, Christmas is coming, and you have some gifts to buy. So you hit up one popular website, and there are deals galore. So you fill your shopping basket, mostly with things you don't really need. One of the things is a gift, but you have to spend $50 to get free shipping! So you fill the basket with a few more things to meet that goal...and just as you are about to hit "buy," you remember that you have made a promise not to shop. Cold turkey, remember? So you delete everything and close the web browser.

But then you think of something that you have been looking for, something that you could probably argue you need. And maybe the deal today will be worth making the purchase. There is a bit of wiggle room in the budget. The cable bill can be paid a couple of days late. So you make the purchase...a $200 item that will be here in two days. Amazon! Love it! Another great thing about Amazon...they have a "cancel" button. So nine minutes later, you are back on the website, cancelling that order because, although you do eventually need to make that purchase, it does not have to be today. And the deal is not really that great.

I wish I could say that all of my shopping endeavors went that well today. However, instead of spending $400 on stuff that I really didn't need to order today, I kept it to under $100, and I bought a couple of gifts, and I should still be able to pay my cable bill on time, so I guess that is a draw, even if it's not a win.

Anyway, that's a peek at the last two days of life as someone with an eating disorder and a compulsive spending disorder who is supposed to be avoiding all shopping (cold turkey!) and whose eating disorder has risen strong as a response to that plan. So the expectation is that I am working on changing my thoughts and behaviors and moving toward recovery. The reality is that I am back at home on my couch, hermit-ing the rest of the night away and wondering how I will make it through the rest of this festive season relatively intact. And wondering if this is something that I will talk about in therapy this week or if it might be time just to start "I'm fine"-ing everyone again.

Post-therapy thoughts...

I see my therapist once a week, and I often (always?) find myself with a LOT to think about when I leave her office. This week, she was fresh from a conference at an area eating disorders treatment facility and had some new resources to share with me, which the science and research nerd in me really enjoys. I think a part of me thinks that if I can learn enough about my eating disorder and related issues, I can wrestle it to the ground and kick the shit out of it and send it on its way.

However, right now, ED is going strong. One of my goals on my latest treatment plan is to be honest about my behaviors, and I mostly meant that to be with my therapist, but I think it's also probably important for me to honest with myself. I have been semi-restricting to restricting lately (my low days are in the 500 net calories range, with days ranging all the way up to 1200 calories net, and most of them hanging somewhere in the middle), so that was a big topic in therapy this week. I have referenced before in this blog that I know that ED is trying to kill me, so when the conversation turned to the fact that what I was doing is dangerous and could eventually lead to death, the first thought that came to my mind and right out of my mouth was, "I feel like it is worth the risk."

For what feels like my entire life, the goal has been to be skinny(er). In high school, I weighed about 80 pounds less than I do now, and I felt big and fat and conspicuous...but I can look back in photos and see I was not. When I was a child, I was taller than the other kids, and I had a lot of "baby fat" that my mom said I would lose once I hit puberty (I am still waiting for that "baby fat" to disappear.). I can't remember a time when I was not aware of being one of the bigger kids (even if the pictures I see of me as a child don't support that belief), and my entire adulthood has been one long battle with my weight.

A popular topic right now in the eating disorders community is the Health At Every Size (HAES) movement, which seeks to show people that it's not the size of their bodies that matter, that they can be larger and still be healthy. I can't wrap my head around HAES, however. I canNOT accept that the size of my body is "okay" and that I should not keep trying to change it. I understand, cognitively, that restrictive food behaviors lead to bingeing. I get that. I have lived it. And I have always said that I would never say to someone with anorexia, "Man, I wish I could do what you do." In fact, once, when in group, my therapist brought up this topic, and when asked if I was jealous of a then-member of the group who did restriction "better" than I did, I vehemently denied it. But as my desperation for a smaller body grows, and as my desire to have SOMETHING in my control increases, I do find myself wishing that I could do just that. HAES does not seem like an option for me. This body is NOT okay. I can't imagine ever accepting it as such.

I appreciate that there is someone out there who cares enough about me to want me to eat. And I am willing to make an attempt to "normalize" things a bit. But ED has me convinced that is not true, and I don't always  have the energy to ignore him right now.

Itchy

I am finding myself itching to spend money. On stuff. Stuff that seems like a need but probably (definitely) still falls in the "wants" category. I have perused a few shopping sites, added a couple of things to wishlists, but that is definitely not a replacement for shopping.

I look at my bank balance, and it is VERY CLEAR that I have NO MONEY with which to shop. None. I have enough in there to cover a bill that may or may not be paid in time by my DMP this month (which means I will be able to pay it if their payment does not clear on or before its due date, so YAY!), as well as enough money to pay two of three co-pays I have coming up before I get paid again. I also have a package on its way to back to one of my favorite clothing retailers because I made the wise decision that I didn't need the sweater and pair of pants that it contained. So will that money come through soon? Will it be before the end of this pay period? And what should I do with it? If it does come through, it offers me just enough comfort to think that it might be okay to treat myself to a little something. But I promised that I would stick to this shopping fast, and I don't want to go back on a promise. Man, it's busy up here in my head.

Update...I adult-ed!

I managed to make a phone call to have a repair made. I didn't even rely on email! I can't say I feel proud of myself because that was such an overreaction to something so benign. But the relief? It's overwhelming. 

Not doing such a great job of adult-ing...

I am in kind of a deep shame spiral right now, and it all has to do with a lack of functionality as an adult in some aspects of my life. There is something in my home that needs to be repaired right now. It will not cost me anything to repair it. Being without it is a major inconvenience and has resulted me needing to come up with creative ways to fulfill some very basic daily activities. However, I also look around my home and see nothing but a mess...the kind of mess that caused me to believe I fit the definition of a hoarder. And that leaves me paralyzed...unable to make the call that will result in this repair being accomplished. I have done some frantic "cleaning" this afternoon, in an attempt to make things passable enough that repairmen can come in without me being afraid of their judgment (and I do recognize that there is a very real chance that they will not give a flying fuck what my home looks like), and I think that if I vacuum and then close all the doors to the bedrooms and the bathroom (under the guise of locking up my pets because that also will have to happen for someone to come in but mostly to hide what a shithole it is in here), I may be able to bring myself to send an email tomorrow alerting the maintenance service to the issue and setting up a time for them to come in and deal with it.

I also continue to hang out on some pro-Ana sites, and one thing about hanging out on social sites filled with people who feel very much the same as you do about themselves is that you learn all kinds of other fun ways in which you can be reminded of what a mess you are. I was introduced this week to a word that I did not even know was A Thing, but it was not only A Thing, but it was A Thing That I Do. The word is "dermatophagia," and if you know anything about the roots that make up a word, you know what that means, and yes, it is as gross as it sounds. I asked my therapist quite a long time ago about the condition "dermatillomania," which is similar to trichotillomania, which is the compulsive pulling out of one's hair. I definitely am someone who picks at my skin, especially around my cuticles (although I used to do this on all my fingers and am able to limit it now just to my thumbs), and I thought it was a leftover habit from when I used to bite my nail, but now the idea that it is more than that has taken hold and is doing a great job of fueling my anxiety (which does not need help, really).

So this is not about me self-diagnosing (which is also sometimes A Thing That I Do), but it is about getting an idea out there and mulling it over and deciding whether to investigate it further. I get a little touchy about that because my psychiatrist once asked me, when I asked her about the possibility of me having some OCD-type behaviors, if I thought perhaps I was someone who wanted to have a lot of psychiatric disorders. But I am pretty sure that I don't have a large audience out there, so I guess that disclaimer is for myself...mostly.

Pocket full of kryptonite

So if you are someone with "food issues," you are probably well aware that there are these things we call "triggers" out there that can lead you to overeat, undereat, binge, purge, restrict, overexercise, or what have you, depending on your particular "preferred" behaviors. For me, I know things are not going to go well if I am going to some sort of social function. When I go to any kind of get-together, ED comes along, dressed to the nines, putting on his charming face, and he will not leave me alone.

"Oh, look, M&Ms. You LOVE those! Why don't you have some? You have been being so goooood."

"Those Hershey's kisses are special! They aren't just the regular old foil ones. Have some! You deserve them."

"Now, someone went to the trouble of making that cake. You can't just refuse a piece. That would be rude, and I know you don't like to make waves. You better have just a little slice."

"And make sure you clear your plate! You don't want to seem ungrateful...wait, is that kettle corn? When is the last time you let yourself have some of that? Better take the opportunity while you have it!"

Needless to say, my night last night did not go well.

I came home, feeling stuffed and bloated. I had heartburn (I still have heartburn). I was weighted down with shame. And I am determined to have a better day today.

Unfortunately, the only "better" that I can come up with at the moment is a day of extreme restriction. Water and carrot sticks and maybe a yogurt. Not a health balance...but what do I know about balance? All or nothing...that is my game.

I think that is why ED likes to spend so much time here with me. He has no trouble knocking me off balance, and which direction I go in each day is totally up to him.

Neurobiology

So the other day I got an email from my therapist that said something like this: "I want us to talk tomorrow about the neurobiology of the trauma response." She has said more than once that, while someone who has experienced a very clear event such as abuse or rape or homelessness in their past is usually seen as someone has definitely experienced trauma, it is also true that subtle, insidious events can also add up to lead to one big issue. When she first mentioned this to me, I was very resistant to the idea. After all, I had a good childhood, never wanting for anything material and from an intact family. I was raised with my one sister, and we took family vacations together to popular family spots. We went to college, on my father's dime, and we were given the opportunity to take dance lessons and go to summer camp and take part in extracurricular activities. It was your basic Generation X childhood.

So why did I spend so many years unable to cry? Why, when someone reached out to hug me, did I feel like I was doing it "wrong?" Why have I always let myself get swallowed up in relationships? Why can't I identify my emotions when I am experiencing them? Why do I feel like I have a vortex within me that I am trying to fill with food and stuff and internet games? Why do I feel about myself the way I do?

My therapist: "I think your amygdala is jacked up." So for those who don't know, the amygdala is a little walnut-sized part of the brain that is responsible for, among other things, emotional learning and reactions. As I usually do when something like this is introduced in therapy, I headed into the research to see what the "experts" have to say about this idea. Some studies have suggested that the size of the amygdala may be increased in cases of childhood trauma, as well as its reactivity. In addition, the corpus callosum, which is the primary pathway between the left and right hemispheres of the brain have been shown to be affected by such experiences. This can diminish the integration between the left and right hemispheres of the brain, which means that someone who is predominantly right-brained (which I believe I am) does not have her right brain as well-integrated with the left brain, which affects emotional regulation and expression.

Okay, so the research seems to say that she has a point. Jacked up amygdala. Diminished corpus callosum. Lots of thinking. Not so much with the feeling. Insidious, subtle happenings from childhood adding up to what has become a big problem. I come from a family of internalizers. We don't "do" emoting. We don't do communicating, either. We don't do hugging or comforting or feelings. We do grudges and judgment and passive aggressive behaviors. We do white lies. We do shame.

So the other thing my therapist said this week is that maybe we have been doing things a little bit in the wrong order. Maybe the neurobiology has to be addressed before things can get "better." Because right now, things don't feel better. Right now, things feels really, really hard. The money stuff is hard. The food stuff is hard. The emotions are hard because they are coming to the surface, and I am spending some of my time trying not to numb them, and feeling them sometimes feels excruciating. I am trying to stay busy roughly 99% of the time, but when I am in her office or in our group therapy sessions, when I am somewhere safe with people I trust, the emotions demand to be felt. And I am fortunate to have a little village who makes that possible for me.

Cold Turkey

As I recall, I have mentioned in the past that I have a lovely therapist (and I don't just say that because she is an occasional reader of this blog) with whom I am fortunate to spend time once each week for individual therapy and every other week for group therapy focusing on adults with eating disorders. In addition, I am fortunate that my employer provides a health care plan at minimal cost to me that does not place a limit on how many times I can access mental health services such as outpatient therapy in a calendar year. Seeking help in this manner has been life changing for me.

Anyway, it turns out that it is really hard to adjust to life without credit cards. My creditor accounts have been enrolled in a debt management plan, and all of my credit card accounts are closed. And I thought this would mean that I magically would stop spending money. After all, I believe I have said that I have enough self-respect not to allow myself to fall into financial ruin. Clearly, not having credit cards means that I will have to change my spending habits, but I can do it! I am an adult! This is what adults do!

So this week I was overdrawn on my checking account. I paid out NINETY DOLLARS in overdraft fees before I was able to come up with a plan (which involved a Coinstar machine and an old savings bond) to get my account back in the black. I was furious with myself. I had "allowed" myself some shopping after a stressful day, even though I know I have no safety net. My credit cards are gone. My savings account is empty, save for the money required to keep the account open. In a particularly low moment, I emailed my therapist because I needed to share with SOMEONE how absolutely awful and scary things were seeming to me. 

At our individual session this week, we talked about the shopping and the spending. And she asked me to consider giving up shopping. Cold turkey. Abstinence. No trips to the Target Dollar Spot. No Zulily orders. No Old Navy orders or Amazon purchases. No celebrating the arrival of my paycheck in my bank account with a special little treat. No shopping for wants. Using my money only for needs.

So. 

This feels impossible. It feels like my "favorite" coping mechanism is being taken from me. I am an online shopper and tell myself I love it. The thrill of the chase, comparing prices, placing the order, waiting for the package to arrive in the mail. It's a rush. I am sure it is lighting up the same pleasure centers in the brain that so many other addiction behaviors do. 

However, it also feels like my only option. Left to my own devices, I seem to be intent on destroying myself. My relationship with food is all or nothing. I am either eating to excess or eating not enough at all. My finances are a major source of stress and shame. The people with whom I feel I can share the details of my struggle are few and far between. And when my therapist asks me to name my emotions as I sit crying in her office, the only one I can come up with is "sad." I hate myself. And I punish myself by engaging in behaviors that could land me in real trouble. And then I present the story in writing, sounding (and feeling) like I am talking about the events in someone else's life...all while wondering how I will regulate my emotions without a trip to Target or a perusal of Nordstrom's website. 

So...cold turkey. I believe her when she says I need to do this. But I am not sure how I will be able to...

 

So this is how yesterday went...

Binge eating? Check!

Shopping? Check!

Self-loathing? Shame? Anger? Check! Check! Check!

Ugh. 

So yesterday, I had my plan to restrict all day because I knew that my ability to control myself at dinner was not going to be promising. And then I took a wander down to the cafeteria, with $2 in pocket to "try a little something." And then I walked back to my work space to get my debit card because "FOODCAFETERIAFOODNOMNOMEATEATEAT!" And that involved some food that was not part of my "plan." And a big dessert. And the stage was set for the rest of the day. 

I finished my workday...and headed to Target. And clothing was on sale for 25% off because of course it was, and I became like a kid in the candy store. I even reached out via text to a trusted friend to tell her that I was in Target, and that was not enough to stop me from releasing the shopping beast. 

And then I left Target and went right to Old Navy. 

So I was (am) already thinking about how much of a screw up I am. And then I proved it to myself by giving in to ED and spending money. 

Oh, and I forgot to mention the cookies I bought at Target to continue to feed the beast. 

Dinner was a feast. There was an appetizer. There was a meal. There were fries. There was alcohol. There was dessert. There was self-loathing. There was shame. 

There was a Xanax waiting for me at the end of the day. There was quiet in my mind. There was sleep. 

Today is another day to continue trying to trigger myself back into restriction. 

I have never met a cafeteria I didn't like...

So here I am, feeling kind of smug because, "Haha, ED, I know you like it when I stuff myself with food, but I am NOT doing that right now." But today brought with it a land mine. Dinner out. Somewhere nice. Where I have not been before. 

I carefully packed my food for today. Baby carrots. One serving of cereal. An apple. Sugar-free Jello. A lite yogurt. Yep, it feels good to have a plan. Tonight might get dicey, but the time leading up to then? Totally under control. 

Ahem. 

So then I made the mistake of going to the cafeteria. I am not working in my usual building today, so I have not been in this cafeteria before. And I have long had a love for cafeterias. I used to live in a state where we had public cafeterias where you could go to eat (early versions of an Old Country Buffet, kind of), and eating there was a treat. So I went to the cafeteria to buy something small...and ended up buying an entire meal. And dessert. 

Dammit. 

And the familiar feeling is back. You already screwed up. You are a pig...no wonder you are so fat. You might as well just eat whatever you want tonight. What else did you expect from yourself?

I hear you, ED. I hear you. 

This is not what recovery looks like...

I was changing my clothes the other day and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, and well, ugh. I know what the number on the scale says, and I know I am not supposed to be so concerned about what the number on the scale says, and when my body is covered with clothes, I can almost believe for very brief moments of time on occasion that being fat is not the end of the world, but then I do something like see myself unclothed in the mirror and realized that is not actually true (at least for me, at this moment). And wouldn't you know it? ED is right there at my side in those moments, ready to stick his claws into me and exploit that moment and turn it into...whatever he feels like this week.

So this week, ED agrees with me. I am fat. And that is the most important feature about me right now. ED doesn't care if I am working hard or being a good friend or enjoying the nice weather or getting plenty of sleep at night. ED cares about the following:

• what I weigh.
• what I look like.
• what I eat.
• what I don't eat.

ED doesn't want me to do things that are going to make me feel better about myself. ED wants me to stay stuck, sitting on my couch, with him over in the corner, surrounded by the stuff that I can't be bothered to clean up, putting work that has to get done off to the very last minute. And he has the power this week! I have a project to do. It has to be done this afternoon. I have just barely started it. My home is a mess. I have been "going to vacuum" for about two weeks now. I have not vacuumed. I am trying as hard as I can to trigger myself back into restricting, which means spending a lot of time on pro-ana sites (which I had promised myself I would not do anymore) so I can read all about how people are eating nothing and try to emulate them (day three and counting! and a water weight loss of over 5 pounds!)! I am weighing myself, even though I know the scale is triggering. I am tracking every bit of food that goes into my body, and any time I have to give someone an accounting of what I am eating, I am padding the numbers to make it look like I am not restricting.

I think my ultimate plan in all this is that ED will "help" me lose weight (let me check back in with you next week when he has me eating my face off), and I will use therapy and meds to figure out the why behind my eating, and then everything will be wrapped up in a neat little package all at the same time, and I will find myself both (a) skinny(er) and (b) mentally and emotionally healthy! And I will continue maintenance meds and maintenance therapy, and ED will get up on his black horse and ride off into the sunset because I won't need him anymore.

I am aware that this is probably not how things will turn out. But for today, I need to believe it anyway.

When ED comes to play...and the shame-ies and blame-ies come with him.

This morning, I answered the call of the online shopping site and the coupon code. I found on a favorite clothing website a coupon code for a BUY ONE, GET ONE 75% OFF. How was I to resist that? What followed was a series of four purchases (But with my debit card! I didn't use a credit card!), as I wanted to take full advantage of the savings and match up like-priced items so that the 75% item was enjoyed to the best of its potential. I first visited the site because they sent me a "We miss you!" email with a coupon code because OF COURSE THEY DID. They exploited my weakness. I forgot to unsubscribe from this particular site's emails. What I have not mentioned yet is that my budget this pay is so tight that I had to purposely put off a payment already scheduled to come out of my account the day it was due to a day after it is due (which will incur a late payment penalty) in order to "free up" the money to buy these items. And nowhere in my plan is the possibility of canceling these orders or returning the items. In my mind, I already own them and love them.

For some people, ED disguises himself by putting on a friendly, benevolent face and pretending to be a friend. However, my version of ED does NOT do that. My ED looks like this:

He is not my friend, and he does not pretend to be. He is dark. I can't see his face. And I am terrified of him because I know he is trying to kill me. He exploits every weakness he can find in me. And right now, he is filling me with shame and blame, and he is LOUD, and he won't SHUT UP. My brain is telling me that I should eat something healthy for breakfast that is good fuel for my body. But ED? Right now, ED is telling me that I don't deserve to eat anything good for me. In fact, he says I don't deserve to eat anything at all.

I don't know that I am strong enough to resist him today. It's hard not to listen to someone who holds so much power over you.

White-knuckling it

There is a definite problem that comes from white-knuckling something in one area of your life when you have an often silent, yet always present, monster named ED lurking at the periphery of your life. All that energy that is being put into trying to avoid one behavior (so for me, that would be all the energy and attention that I am giving to my money situation) means that you are taking energy away from trying to keep ED in his corner, out of the way, maybe watching you, but certainly not contributing. He looks for weak moments, and he tries to get in through the little openings in your resolve. He has been talking to me a lot over the past week. And he has a lot to say.

"Well, you can't spend money, so how are you going to make yourself feel better now? Have a donut. Have two donuts! It's not like you bought them. They are just sitting here in the break room. You can have donuts and not spend money! So that's still a win!"

"Don't eat dinner. You don't deserve dinner. You are a mess. Look what you have done to yourself. You can't even be trusted with your own money. Doesn't it feel good not to eat dinner? Doesn't that make you feel better? No? Well, good. You don't deserve to feel better."

and my personal favorite

"Should you really have told her that? Is that someone to be trusted? Is she going to keep your dirty secret? Or is she going to tell everyone? Then everyone will know! EVERYONE! You might as well just tell them all and get it over with. Everyone is going to find out anyway, and then they are going to know about you."

Ugh, ED. STFU.

I am fortunate that I do have some people that I DO trust. But man, this dude can be loud.

But I ate dinner yesterday, ED, and I shared with people who have earned the right to hear my story. So for now, you can just go ahead and STFU.

That little voice that encourages you to put yourself first...

This has been a rough couple of weeks. I have been forced to confront some things that I was more comfortable just allowing to float under the surface...but I found that allowing them to float under the surface meant that they were constantly trying to rear their heads. It became exhausting and later impossible to keep them hidden and quiet.

A large chunk of my history is missing from this blog, and I once thought it was going to be a narrative that started with when I first heard the words "eating disorder" applied to my own condition, continued through what I have done and learned so far, and then provided a way to track what I am up to now in regards to recovery and treatment and realizing that it just might be possible for someone (even me!) to be "enough." However, I see now that what I really need is a place to put my thoughts as I have them, a safe place (at least for now, as I don't think anyone is reading a random blog written under a pseudonym whose author has made no effort to publicize her writings) where I can let the words flow and not worry about someone I know reading them and later bringing them up in casual conversation.

Anyway, I am a shopping and spending addict. I also have an eating disorder, and these two things are related (as is often the case with eating disorders...co-occurring disorders and addictions run rampant in our community - I also am seeing a psychiatrist for treatment for depression - major, clinical, sometimes-I-can't-get-out-of-bed depression - and anxiety, the kind that is always there, a hum in the background as I go about my days). I first became aware maybe six months ago that I was seeing in myself some of the same signs I saw on TV or read about in books about hoarding and hoarders. My home is a cluttered mess. Cleaning is not my strong point. I have dust bunnies in the corners, items piled on my coffee table and dining table, dishes in my sink, outdated food in my refrigerator, shoes piled by the front door, and only one spot on the couch where there is room for me to sit...the rest of the couch is piled with my "stuff." I brought this information to my therapist, thinking I was sharing something new, and her response was kind of like ::blink, blink, silence, head-tilt, start-to-say-something, stop, blink:: and then, "Is this the first time you are realizing this?" And it was the first time that I was equating my behavior with those people on TV whose homes were in danger of being condemned. I knew I was what I referred to as a compulsive shopper. But, much like I had about my beliefs about my weight and food issues, I had always thought I just needed to find the "right" budget to follow, and I could fix things right up.

Recently, with some encouragement on the part of my therapist, I decided to add up all the money I owed to my credit card companies. And the number was shocking. I knew that I had been spending a lot, using money I did not have, but I did not realizing that my credit card debt was coming dangerously close to the $50K mark. I felt instant and all-encompassing shame. My therapist suggested I look into a debt management plan, and I balked. I am not the kind of person who cannot handle her debt. I don't DO consumer credit counseling programs. Those are for people who make stupid decisions. I could do this on my own! I could pay this off! I just had to stop spending! I was going to give it a good go! And then I found an online calculator that showed me that, if I took the route I was planning to take, it would take over 40 years for me to be debt free, and I would spend over $100K on interest payments. My interest rates were as high as 30%. I had paid for the actual amount of money I spent many times over. I was not going to be able to do this on my own. With a heavy feeling in my chest and more than one bad thought about myself, I emailed my therapist to let her know my decision (Her response: "I am so proud of you!" My thought: "What is there to be proud of?") and made a call. And enrolled in a debt management plan. After being told it looked like my two choices were that or bankruptcy because the math didn't add up with any other option.

So. No more credit cards. And no cushion because I have already had to empty my emergency fund to pay my rent a couple of months ago when even my cash spending got out of control. Nothing to fall back on. And I do have enough pride not to let myself get into a situation where I can't pay my bills. So I am on lockdown. I am tracking every dollar out and every dollar in. Once I am a few months into the plan, I should be able to create a little bit of an emergency fund, but for now, every dollar has to be considered and accounted for. I can't just go to Target and wander the aisles and look for that instant gratifier that might feel good for a moment but will hit me right where it hurts later on. My last mail-ordered item that I ordered before the credit cards went away arrived last week. I have nothing else lurking out there, waiting for the mail carrier or the UPS driver to bring it to my door. Every day this week, I have found myself approaching my front door and having to catch myself as I start to wonder what might be waiting for me that day. And every day, I have found myself feeling a deep sense of loss, as I remembered that would not be happening anymore.

However, I have to admit that not every feeling surrounding this process has been bad. I have reached out to some people I trust and shared with them my story, and I have been met with nothing but support (I have made a major effort not to share with people who I don't expect to be supportive, which is new and different for me because I have a history of indiscriminate oversharing). I have stopped ignoring what was a very big problem and taken steps to deal with it. And I find myself thinking, just every once in a while, that maybe I am good enough for this kind of self-care. Maybe I don't deserve only bad things because of the horrible things I have done or the awful person I am or the darkness that lurks inside of me or the real me that I am hiding from everyone who thinks she knows me. I am finding that there is a little, tiny, almost inaudible voice inside of me that would like me to put myself first and is encouraging me to do so. For today, I am going to try to listen to her.

My Story...so far

I am an adult living with an eating disorder. And there are a lot of us out there. Some of us might not call it an eating disorder…I did not for a LONG time. We might just think that we emotionally eat or need a diet or have weird food “stuff” or LOVE to exercise or any other number of things that keep us from facing the truth. We are not in control of our lives. The shadow lurking in the corner that I call ED is instead.

I first remember being on a diet when I was in middle school. Actually, I would say it was more like I was “on a diet.” My mom was always on a diet, it seemed, and there was a definite focus on weight in my family. However, I say that I was “on a diet” because I have memories at this point in my life of some very definite binge eating behaviors. I remember coming home from school and making big plates of nachos and scarfing them down, eating chips by the bagful, sharing cookie dough with my mom as we watched soap operas, and inhaling food in the cafeteria (especially on days when we had something called “potato bar,” which was really an opportunity to make an entire lunch out of potato skins, French fries, and tater tots). However, I also remember having for dinner meals that came from a Weight Watchers cookbook as my family set out once again on this road to weight loss. I didn’t recognize until just recently how this can lay the foundation for an unhealthy relationship with food.

I have also always been an internalizer. When I was angry with someone, I waited for the feelings to go away. When I was sad, I kept it to myself. When I was happy, I tried not to be too happy because I didn’t want to invite something bad to happen. However, all this was information I was aware of on the periphery. Day to day, I thought things were “okay.” It took a major life change to see that there might be some room for improvement.

I have always been someone who lost herself in relationships. You like football? I like football too. Baseball? Okay. You want to watch that show? I love it too. You want to have dinner with your family every Sunday? Okay…my family can wait. And eventually, this led me right down the aisle on my wedding day. What was once a good relationship probably could not be considered one anymore, but I married him anyway. And then, about six years later, when one of my “nonnegotiables” happened, I dragged my feet for a few months, started seeing a therapist (this was key to my story), and eventually got divorced. I moved back to the town I grew up in with my dog and with very little self-respect and no sense of self-worth. I just didn’t really understand that yet.

Soon after I met my therapist, she mentioned to me that she was an eating disorders specialist. My first thought was, “So?” I had no concept that my weird relationship with food was an eating disorder. After all, I wasn’t skinny. I didn’t throw up everything. I definitely didn’t starve myself. I just ate too much because I didn’t have enough willpower to stick to a diet. If I found a diet I could stick to, I could lose weight, and it would no longer be an issue. In the last two or three years of my marriage, I was being really “good” with my diet and had successfully lost a lot of weight. Sure, I was eating a lot again, but I was stressed. Once my divorce was over, I would just go back on the diet.

Spoiler alert: That’s not really how things unfolded.