"In Recovery"

Prior to recently, any time anyone happened to ask me where I was in my recovery journey, I would usually classify myself as "contemplating recovery." Recovery sounded AWESOME...for other people. I had just started referring to my food "stuff" as an eating disorder and acknowledging that this was something a diet would not fix. But for every step forward, there was a step back, it seemed...or at least a step sideways. I would stop binge eating...and then I would start tracking my food. I would stop binge eating, but then I would read all about the newest Weight Watchers program online and even fill out all the information to sign up...stopping just before I hit the "submit" button. I would stop binge eating, but I would buy twelve tank tops and a pair of jeans I didn't like from Old Navy's website, adding the tank tops to my already complete tank top collection and setting the jeans aside to donate to the Goodwill. And then I would go back to binge eating again.

I sat in therapy one day not long ago and listened to my therapist ask me, with an earnest expression on her face, "What would it feel like to treat yourself the way those of us who care about you unconditionally would want you to treat yourself?" (I am paraphrasing, but the spirit of the conversation is still there.) And for some reason, that question spoke to me. I had never considered that there might be someone out there (no matter how many times I had been faced with evidence of this) who might care about how I was treating myself. I had never really heard someone say to me, "I care about how you are treating yourself" (in so many words), as I was only looking at the effect my eating disorder has on me. I have friends with eating disorders, and I know that it makes me very sad when they are engaging in behaviors, and I would do anything within my power to help them. I had never considered that there were people who felt that way about me.

So tonight, in group therapy, when it was time to introduce myself to a new member to our group, after giving it a lot of thought, I introduced myself as someone who was "in recovery" from binge eating disorder (and also "in recovery" from compulsive shopping and hoarding, but that is a different topic for a different time). It has been several to many weeks since I last binged (I don't have an exact date of my last binge, but I think it has been 4-6 weeks). I have been eating when I am hungry but having treats on occasion. I have not been going to the grocery store and filling my cart with produce and other ingredients that I know I won't prepare and eat (which leads to some guilt and shame when I end up having to throw those ingredients away). I have been sticking to realistic foods that fit into my life. I have realized I don't really enjoy fast food anymore. I have eaten a lot of cereal because I really like it. I have tried out different kinds of peanut butter to figure out which kind I like the best. I have kept snacks on hand for when I want a little something. I have not "given up" anything. I know that giving something up (soda, white flour, potato chips, sugar) is the quickest route to reactive binge eating for me.

Instead of stuffing my feelings down and burying them with ice cream and McDonald's, I have been crying...and laughing. Feeling fear and anxiety without trying to numb it. And for the last several weeks, I have spent a lot of time feeling happy. I spent a lot of time asking myself, "Is this happiness? No, wait. Is this happiness? Or maybe THIS?" It's hard to identify happiness when you have been trying really hard to feel nothing for a really long time. I can say this, however. Tonight, I am lying in a hammock on my balcony, with my dog asleep on the floor beneath me. My cat is inside but close by, curled up on her kitty condo, fast asleep. I got to see some of my favorite people at group tonight, and tomorrow I have my individual session to look forward to. I have exciting plans for the future. I am starting to let go of the past.

I don't know what will happen tomorrow, and I don't want to worry about it. Today, in this moment, I am declaring myself "in recovery." Right now, ED is not the boss of me. And I don't need anyone to save me...I am working instead to save myself.

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?

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.