Changing thoughts to change behaviors...it sounds simple, but it feels impossible.

I have not written on this blog for a while, but I had therapy today, and I find myself with some thoughts that I want to think about and write out and come back to and ponder. If you were to ask me introduce myself in a therapeutic setting (like maybe in group therapy), I would first tell you what I did for a living and then tell you what is "wrong" with me. "I am a nurse. I am divorced. I am a binge eater. I am a hoarder." That is often how I see myself...the sum total of those four sentences (or sentences like them).

My therapist has said to me several times that she wants me to consider changing my thoughts and beliefs about myself and not my behaviors. I usually nod my head, start thinking about what I am going to grab to eat on my way home from her office, and wonder if there is some other "tool" I have not tried that can get me to where I want to be. A new budget spreadsheet? A new organizational system? A new diet? A better understanding of gluten? Of sugar? Of fat? Intermittent fasting? One meal per day? How can I change my behavior so I can feel better about myself?

When you are a dieter, you wait for the day that you have lost all the weight, and you know that everything will be "better" then. If you are beating yourself up for being fat, once you aren't fat, you will no longer beat yourself up...right? I have done this with my debt (once I have paid off my debt, I will no longer beat myself up about how much debt I have), with the clutter in my house (once I clean up and come up with a system to keep it clean, I will no longer beat myself up about what a mess I am ), and with multiple projects that I have procrastinated on (well, it feels shitty to have to rush this way, but when I am done and still ON TIME, I will no longer beat myself about how I suck at time management and saying no and am always doing things at the eleventh hour).

So of course, it probably is not that easy. After all, I have been a size that looks damn good to me in pictures now, even though I thought at the time that I was still fat. There was a time when I did not have credit card debt, and I was not necessarily happier then. When I moved into my current home, I started with a blank slate, and no method I could come up with could stop it from becoming what it has been recently. As for procrastination, well, I usually over-schedule myself to the point that down time becomes REALLY down time (usually involving a nap and binge watching a Criminal Minds marathon), instead of a calm, set aside block of time where I can work on things ahead of time. 

Anyway, it usually take me about fifteen minutes to get from the therapy office to my home. And I usually spend that time pondering what we have talked about and trying to separate the "fluff" (which is often from me deflecting or staying very "surface") from the "meat" (which usually is whatever leads me to cry) of the session. And today, the thought I left with was this: "What would my life look like if I were to willing to forgive myself for all the things I did that were not in keeping with taking care of my "inner child" (or the little girl that still lives in me...take your pick of terminology)?

My childhood was a good one (I think I have written about this before). We had plenty to eat, clothes to wear, a good education. We went on vacations, often more than once per year. My mom stayed at home with us, for the most part, and we didn't spend time in day cares. My dad worked hard to provide for us, and he paid for our college careers in full. We remain geographically and socially close, and we see each other often. I thought this meant that my family life had been alright.

But. Emotionally? Not so close. Nurturing? Not this group. Affectionate? Nope. Connected? I don't really think so. Generous with money? Absolutely. Willing to treat each other to lunch out or to ice cream or cookies or a bag of candy? Yep. At ease with saying the words "I love you?" Certainly not. But my family life was still alright...wasn't it?

A long time ago, my therapist said something that has stuck with me through this journey. She said that, while someone who has been abandoned or abused or physically neglected has a specific "reason" to point to when they find themselves in a therapist's chair, subtle things can, over time, be just as damaging. So for a baby who is left alone to cry in her bed who grows into a toddler whose mom is not free with affection and then to a child who is given treats but not told that she is loved and then into a teen who is afraid to rock the boat because "that's not what we do," the end result might just be a place like this one, where I find myself. My impression of myself is that I have fucked up a lot of stuff, and THIS is why I didn't get what I needed (at least emotionally) in my family. I see my life as a series of bad decisions (even some that I "made" before decisions were really mine to make), bad choices, and bad behaviors that inform my view of myself (I must be bad...right?) and have me stuck in this place where I am pretty sure I don't want to spend the rest of my life feeling THIS way, but the other side is far, far away, and the fog is too thick for me to see it clearly.

So changing my thoughts...forgiving myself...engaging in meaningful self-care...seeing myself as being worth achieving all those "goals" (less weight, less debt, less clutter) instead of waiting to achieve them in order to become worthy...how do I do that? I want an instruction book or a recipe. "Take two vitamin C gummies, eat an apple, and dance in the moonlight on a warm, rainy night while burning incense and balancing a book on your head." Okay, step one, done. Step two, done. And step three...well, as long as no one is there to see it. But I hear my therapist when she says that is not what it's about. And I am thinking about it. And I have not found her untrustworthy in the years that I have been seeing her, so there is no reason to think she is lying to me now. And she seems to really believe it. She believes that I am worthy of love, even with my load of credit card debt and my messy house and my fatness. Could that really be true?

I am not sure where to go from here. I guess a first step to forgiving myself is to figure out just what it is I need to forgive myself for. I do firmly believe that all the mindful eating work and body love advocacy and anti-diet reading in the world cannot "fix" what's going on here. I have tried medication that was supposed to cut down on binge eating by changing the way I felt physically, but that didn't address why it was I was binge eating. And I went off that medication because I saw that it was maybe a quick fix to a lifelong struggle I have had. Before I can profess to the world, "I love my body, curves and all," I have to be able to say that I love myself...the me inside this body, not the body as the world sees it. 

So I guess it will take talking about it over and over again, having my irrational beliefs challenged over and over again, and leaving therapy exhausted after spending my time there crying over and over again to move in a healthy direction. And maybe the rest will follow. But even if it doesn't, it would stand to reason that that would not matter as much anymore, right? If I truly love myself, what the rest of the world thinks about my body should not matter. If I truly love myself, I should not feel the need to keep feeding the vortex that I am trying to fill with more and more things. If I truly love myself, I should be able to take care of myself by doing things like taking the trash out and vacuuming on a regular basis and occasionally saying "no" when I am over-scheduled and need some time to myself. My therapist today said that she knows that I am standing at the end of the cliff right now, and that feels very true, and I feel like I can't see the bottom. But can I let go of what I have known and believe in something better? Can I finally take that leap and believe that I can build some wings on my way down?

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.

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.