I have the worst hangover. I feel just awful. No mind altering substances, just food. Food's clearly worse for me. Today I turn 42, that's really "in your 40s". But that's not it. I'm letting go. Letting go of dreams and hopes and plans and a future I thought was the right one.
Thing is? It turns out that it wasn't the right one. I thought I had an academic future, that when the kids were old enough I could go get my master's degree and think about a professional future. But I am taking a class. And while many, many people can do this. I cannot. There are not enough hours in the day to study and work and be a good mother. Not with my husband gone three of the last four weeks for work. Not with the kind of job that I have that eats time like the plant in Little Shop of Horrors. Not if I want my kids to grow up in a house that is not run by chaos.
The funny thing? The academic part isn't the problem. I'm not a traditional learner. I'd have done much better back when you learned your practice or your craft from a real person, over years yes, but by doing and modeling. Text books make me want to cry and research? Oh my god, it's horrible. But I can do it. And I don't even really hate it. But I hate being so pulled in so many directions all the time. And I cannot do it and be who I really am. So, I'm not going to. But it has a long term impact on what I'm going to do with my life. That means a different future. That's scary. That feels awful.
So, what do we do when we're scared and feel all alone in the world? Reach out to friends? Go for a walk in the woods? Write? NO! We eat Salt and Vinegar chips and chocolate and bread with butter. Of course!
Of course.
So today, I am on my knees, praying a big huge "please" prayer. "Please help me eat with love today, just today. Amen."
Amen.
Showing posts with label spirit. Show all posts
Showing posts with label spirit. Show all posts
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Thursday, April 9, 2009
Blessings from the path of compulsive eating
Oh please will someone come to my house and bop me on the head. I'll even hand you the big plastic bat. My gosh.
I just bought a shiny, new diet book.
But I heard it on NPR, it must be good! (can you hear the whining?)
It all started yesterday when I was getting ready for the day, listening to NPR, making a tofu-pepper-onion-scramble with sliced bananas and blueberries on the side. There was this report on Morning Edition "Diet Books: Fat on Profits, Skinny on Results?" I started thinking back over the different books and programs I've done and which ones worked and for how long.
There was Weight Watchers last year when I thought I was fixed from the big food problems and was now a normal person. I saw that what normal people did when they wanted to loose a few pounds was to go to Weight Watchers. Now I know many people love ww, by best friend for one, who is now a size six for the first time since childhood. Good, glad it's a good fit. Thrilled for you! But for me all that focus on food was exactly NOT the thing I needed. It re-energized the food compulsions, granted I was compulsive about points and low points and managing it, and the scale. But still, compulsion. I lost 20 some pounds and while they didn't all come back, the compulsion is still not calmed down. It was not good, I am not a "normal" person when it comes to food.
Six years before ww there was "Body for Life" and this was good, I learned a lot about exercise. What I remember most was the 12 week program with six days a week of high intensity working out. You alternate strength training arm days and leg days with core work every day, and interval cardio. Lots of cardio. I didn't miss a work out the whole 12 weeks, but then my husband was in the throes of getting ready to leave me, so I might have had some outside push there. Oh and the free day! One day a week--FREE! No exercise and you eat anything. That was nice to fit in things like real peanut butter. I lost 20 pounds--the last bit left from the big loss and was down to a solid size 6-8 after this one--for five years holding onto a size 8-10.
About three years before that I lost the most weight and it's stayed off. I read "Love Yourself Thin" by Victoria Moran, which I think she's about to re-release. I became a vegetarian and began to know the spiritual connection between the food we put in our mouth and the food that becomes our blood and skin and brain cells. I lost about 40 pounds. I had self defined "clean days" not her word but mine, when I ate only food that really still looked the way it had looked when it grew. This was good stuff. The current recovery from Weight Watchers has brought back the biggest piece I learned with "Love Yourself Thin" I wake every morning and pray "thank you for helping me let go of compulsive eating", because even though it's been bad, it's never been as bad as it used to be.
Sometime before that was "Thin for Life" which taught me about low fat substitutes. That's about all. I lost 20 pounds and gained it right back.
Before that I had stabs of weight loss--one week sprints of eating almost nothing and losing 10 pounds. Yes, I still wish for those moments sometimes, but like you might wish for the revisiting of a night with a man that is really bad for you, I know it's not good. In high school I took diet pills and drank tons of diet coke, but I was never thin or healthy.
I remember being put on a diet as a small child. Maybe age 5 or 6? I know my mother was trying to save me from the pain of being a fat child, but to be served yogurt and carrots when all the other kids at daycare were eating cheesy noodles was humiliating. I still sometimes play that scene when I'm feeling really low.
When I look back over the hills and valleys I can see it has been a long and fascinating journey. I'm lucky that I don't weigh 300 pounds. I'm lucky that I don't weigh 200 pounds. I'm lucky that I can shop at regular stores on the regular size racks. I'm lucky to have beautiful friends and a fabulous family. I've been very lucky. I feel deeply blessed.
So why? Why buy yet another diet book? Well, I wasn't going to certainly. I was going to look at the link on NPR's website and link to it here in my blog in this history of diet books and programs. But I read a little of Julia Cameron's introduction to her book. She's the woman who wrote "The Artist's Way" and along with "TAKE A YOGA CLASS" orders from God, I've been hearing "WRITE MORNING PAGES" orders being whispered--Julia Cameron's plan in "The Artist's Way" and as it turns out, this new book. Maybe it's my inner spirit, or my subconscious. But I don't think that's any different than God. So I bought it.
We'll see how it goes. I don't want to be on TV in a bikini (have you seen Valerie Bertanelli?) I just want my back to hurt a little less. I want to move a little easier. I want to be a little more fit. And I want to let go of using food for anything other than you know, feeding myself.
May it be so.
I just bought a shiny, new diet book.
But I heard it on NPR, it must be good! (can you hear the whining?)
It all started yesterday when I was getting ready for the day, listening to NPR, making a tofu-pepper-onion-scramble with sliced bananas and blueberries on the side. There was this report on Morning Edition "Diet Books: Fat on Profits, Skinny on Results?" I started thinking back over the different books and programs I've done and which ones worked and for how long.
There was Weight Watchers last year when I thought I was fixed from the big food problems and was now a normal person. I saw that what normal people did when they wanted to loose a few pounds was to go to Weight Watchers. Now I know many people love ww, by best friend for one, who is now a size six for the first time since childhood. Good, glad it's a good fit. Thrilled for you! But for me all that focus on food was exactly NOT the thing I needed. It re-energized the food compulsions, granted I was compulsive about points and low points and managing it, and the scale. But still, compulsion. I lost 20 some pounds and while they didn't all come back, the compulsion is still not calmed down. It was not good, I am not a "normal" person when it comes to food.
Six years before ww there was "Body for Life" and this was good, I learned a lot about exercise. What I remember most was the 12 week program with six days a week of high intensity working out. You alternate strength training arm days and leg days with core work every day, and interval cardio. Lots of cardio. I didn't miss a work out the whole 12 weeks, but then my husband was in the throes of getting ready to leave me, so I might have had some outside push there. Oh and the free day! One day a week--FREE! No exercise and you eat anything. That was nice to fit in things like real peanut butter. I lost 20 pounds--the last bit left from the big loss and was down to a solid size 6-8 after this one--for five years holding onto a size 8-10.
About three years before that I lost the most weight and it's stayed off. I read "Love Yourself Thin" by Victoria Moran, which I think she's about to re-release. I became a vegetarian and began to know the spiritual connection between the food we put in our mouth and the food that becomes our blood and skin and brain cells. I lost about 40 pounds. I had self defined "clean days" not her word but mine, when I ate only food that really still looked the way it had looked when it grew. This was good stuff. The current recovery from Weight Watchers has brought back the biggest piece I learned with "Love Yourself Thin" I wake every morning and pray "thank you for helping me let go of compulsive eating", because even though it's been bad, it's never been as bad as it used to be.
Sometime before that was "Thin for Life" which taught me about low fat substitutes. That's about all. I lost 20 pounds and gained it right back.
Before that I had stabs of weight loss--one week sprints of eating almost nothing and losing 10 pounds. Yes, I still wish for those moments sometimes, but like you might wish for the revisiting of a night with a man that is really bad for you, I know it's not good. In high school I took diet pills and drank tons of diet coke, but I was never thin or healthy.
I remember being put on a diet as a small child. Maybe age 5 or 6? I know my mother was trying to save me from the pain of being a fat child, but to be served yogurt and carrots when all the other kids at daycare were eating cheesy noodles was humiliating. I still sometimes play that scene when I'm feeling really low.
When I look back over the hills and valleys I can see it has been a long and fascinating journey. I'm lucky that I don't weigh 300 pounds. I'm lucky that I don't weigh 200 pounds. I'm lucky that I can shop at regular stores on the regular size racks. I'm lucky to have beautiful friends and a fabulous family. I've been very lucky. I feel deeply blessed.
So why? Why buy yet another diet book? Well, I wasn't going to certainly. I was going to look at the link on NPR's website and link to it here in my blog in this history of diet books and programs. But I read a little of Julia Cameron's introduction to her book. She's the woman who wrote "The Artist's Way" and along with "TAKE A YOGA CLASS" orders from God, I've been hearing "WRITE MORNING PAGES" orders being whispered--Julia Cameron's plan in "The Artist's Way" and as it turns out, this new book. Maybe it's my inner spirit, or my subconscious. But I don't think that's any different than God. So I bought it.
We'll see how it goes. I don't want to be on TV in a bikini (have you seen Valerie Bertanelli?) I just want my back to hurt a little less. I want to move a little easier. I want to be a little more fit. And I want to let go of using food for anything other than you know, feeding myself.
May it be so.
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
All Alone, ha!
I am so excited to go stay alone in a hotel for two whole nights. Funny, I love my family, I love my husband. It's good here in my home, and it hasn't always been so I really get how lucky I am right now.
But alone! In a hotel room!
I'm headed to our big local area meeting, all of Idaho, Alaska, Oregon and Washington meet up and have colleague time, work time, enrichment. I didn't find a roommate because my son had planned to come with me. But he's missed too much school from being sick and traveling for his big volunteer job. So, I'm on my own.
Last summer I stayed alone some of the week I was in Ft Lauderdale. There is nothing like focus to be able to take care of myself. When no one else is in the room it's much easier to get up at 6:30 and do a good half hour of yoga. And I'm bringing good food to eat in my room in the little hot pot. My budget is really gone for this trip, so I have to be cheap, but wow! Good food! Peace! Quiet!
Not that I don't like rooming with people I love. My friend from Rhode Island and I had the very best time rooming together for a few days in Albuquerque this fall. That was heavenly, too. But in a different way. Good, fun, fellowship and friendship.
But ahhh... alone. Sigh, I simply cannot wait.
(note to self: may wish to arrange for more time alone in real life without hefty hotel bills....)
But alone! In a hotel room!
I'm headed to our big local area meeting, all of Idaho, Alaska, Oregon and Washington meet up and have colleague time, work time, enrichment. I didn't find a roommate because my son had planned to come with me. But he's missed too much school from being sick and traveling for his big volunteer job. So, I'm on my own.
Last summer I stayed alone some of the week I was in Ft Lauderdale. There is nothing like focus to be able to take care of myself. When no one else is in the room it's much easier to get up at 6:30 and do a good half hour of yoga. And I'm bringing good food to eat in my room in the little hot pot. My budget is really gone for this trip, so I have to be cheap, but wow! Good food! Peace! Quiet!
Not that I don't like rooming with people I love. My friend from Rhode Island and I had the very best time rooming together for a few days in Albuquerque this fall. That was heavenly, too. But in a different way. Good, fun, fellowship and friendship.
But ahhh... alone. Sigh, I simply cannot wait.
(note to self: may wish to arrange for more time alone in real life without hefty hotel bills....)
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Keep Spinnin' Round
I remember when my middle son was learning to roll over. He'd wake up in the middle of the night and roll over, then roll back, roll over then roll back, roll over then roll back. Then he'd plop his head mindfully back down and go right back to sleep.
This is how he's always been when he's learning something new. He does it over and over and over. Sometimes he still looses sleep over it. Luckily our days of a family bed are long since passed since he's taller than I am now, so his lost sleep is no longer mine.
But the other night I was the one awake in the middle of the night rolling over and over. And over.
I had been sound asleep for a few hours, it was the dark night and I could tell it was not going to be a quick turn. I was nattering on something big. So after about an hour I finally just got up and ran a steamy bath. And I picked up my book. I've been reading Geneen Roth's old book "When Food is Love" in little tiny bits. Sometimes literally a paragraph at a time. This night I soaked in the tub until I was totally sckrunkled-up and wrinkly and read almost the entire book.
It's hard to explain what happened next. But I felt like that baby who had practiced enough and was finally going to go plop my head down and go back to sleep. Reading the book is amazing. She sees inside my head and even more than that, she understands what's going on in there way better than I do! It's a big web of childhood, and acceptance, and love and care and food and trying, trying, trying to do it all just right. At one point in the book she tells the story of deciding to stop dieting, to just take care of herself and give herself what she wants until it becomes what she needs because she's taking care of herself. So she goes to her Wednesday night Weight Watchers meeting to tell the leader her plan. And the leader tells her that the ONLY way to fight a weight problem is to watch everything you put in your mouth for the rest of your life. I laughed out loud.
That's just the thing. That leaves it a weight problem. And you have it forever. And you fight it forever. But I know that there has to be another way.
I think I can see it. Forgiveness February is good.
There has got to be another way.
This is how he's always been when he's learning something new. He does it over and over and over. Sometimes he still looses sleep over it. Luckily our days of a family bed are long since passed since he's taller than I am now, so his lost sleep is no longer mine.
But the other night I was the one awake in the middle of the night rolling over and over. And over.
I had been sound asleep for a few hours, it was the dark night and I could tell it was not going to be a quick turn. I was nattering on something big. So after about an hour I finally just got up and ran a steamy bath. And I picked up my book. I've been reading Geneen Roth's old book "When Food is Love" in little tiny bits. Sometimes literally a paragraph at a time. This night I soaked in the tub until I was totally sckrunkled-up and wrinkly and read almost the entire book.
It's hard to explain what happened next. But I felt like that baby who had practiced enough and was finally going to go plop my head down and go back to sleep. Reading the book is amazing. She sees inside my head and even more than that, she understands what's going on in there way better than I do! It's a big web of childhood, and acceptance, and love and care and food and trying, trying, trying to do it all just right. At one point in the book she tells the story of deciding to stop dieting, to just take care of herself and give herself what she wants until it becomes what she needs because she's taking care of herself. So she goes to her Wednesday night Weight Watchers meeting to tell the leader her plan. And the leader tells her that the ONLY way to fight a weight problem is to watch everything you put in your mouth for the rest of your life. I laughed out loud.
That's just the thing. That leaves it a weight problem. And you have it forever. And you fight it forever. But I know that there has to be another way.
I think I can see it. Forgiveness February is good.
There has got to be another way.
Thursday, February 5, 2009
Falling Apart
Today I'm falling apart, but it a very good way. I've been reading Geneen Roth's "When Food is Love" little bit by little bit. This morning I was reading about how compulsive eaters (in control or not) often have this feeling that we don't deserve ....whatever, fill in the blank. The larger cookie, to go on vacation where we want to, to have the things all humans need and deserve. We have soaked in the feeling that to be good enough we have to heroically give everything we can. Then we just might cut it. That's my take on it anyhow. And of course we all know in a head way; no one else can ever fill that "good enough" pit of despair. It is for us to fill ourselves. My heart and soul is still trying to catch up with my head.
Sitting with this little bit this morning I remembered a lecture by my 4th grade teacher. She was frustrated with the class, and giving one of those lectures I hear myself give some times, not totally well thought out but clearly from a place of true emotion. I vividly remember her talking about how we all thought that we had to look out for number one. I had no idea what she was talking about. What did that mean? As I tried to fit what she was saying into some semblance of meaning it dawned on me. Other kids thought about their own needs and wishes and desires FIRST. They didn't think about what would be the best for the popular girls or the powerful boys or the overwhelmed teacher. They thought about what they wanted.
I was shocked. I remember feeling dizzy. How could this be? It was not at all a part of how I operated.
And so it makes sense that the one way I could sometimes feed myself, and take care of myself was to literally feed myself. To fill myself up. To secretly give to me.
It helps to know. Helps to get past just the blame and compulsion and obsession and the pounds and points and sizes.
Then I went to Geneen's blog and read this post about her cat's death.
Oh dear. I miss my sweet old Emmadog. What a love. But the love is still here. There is so much good in this world. And a good dog with big love leaves a big hole. It's worth it. But it's so hard just now.
Then, I have learned, anything worth doing is sometimes hard to do.
Sitting with this little bit this morning I remembered a lecture by my 4th grade teacher. She was frustrated with the class, and giving one of those lectures I hear myself give some times, not totally well thought out but clearly from a place of true emotion. I vividly remember her talking about how we all thought that we had to look out for number one. I had no idea what she was talking about. What did that mean? As I tried to fit what she was saying into some semblance of meaning it dawned on me. Other kids thought about their own needs and wishes and desires FIRST. They didn't think about what would be the best for the popular girls or the powerful boys or the overwhelmed teacher. They thought about what they wanted.
I was shocked. I remember feeling dizzy. How could this be? It was not at all a part of how I operated.
And so it makes sense that the one way I could sometimes feed myself, and take care of myself was to literally feed myself. To fill myself up. To secretly give to me.
It helps to know. Helps to get past just the blame and compulsion and obsession and the pounds and points and sizes.
Then I went to Geneen's blog and read this post about her cat's death.
Oh dear. I miss my sweet old Emmadog. What a love. But the love is still here. There is so much good in this world. And a good dog with big love leaves a big hole. It's worth it. But it's so hard just now.
Then, I have learned, anything worth doing is sometimes hard to do.
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Pause...hit Pause!
No, I am not putting my personal growth and development on hold, nor my fitness. Or even my health. Nope. 
Maybe just a pause.
It's not totally intentional. Just life and some three hour spans of insomnia, and other things that make me feel like sludge. No, I don't know what sludge really is, but it's a fantastic word.
Other things like fighting with my spouse. No, not real fighting. Just that discussion that is the same one we've had for 15 or 20 years. If one of us had the presence of mind to actually record it someday we could stop at the beginning of a disagreement and exclaim "HEY! Get the recording, we don't actually have to do this, we can go out for coffee while the discussion happens without us!"
I have every confidence that it has nothing to do with the hours there in my bed, waiting to fall back asleep for hours and hours. And having to actually function the next day.
OK, it has everything to do with that.
Sleep is the biggest drug of all, I am totally addicted and if I don't get it, I do go a little bit ballistic.
But I have to pull out the gratitude journal and remember so many things more than the three I make myself write every day. (yes, warm slippers can be on the list 46 days in a row)
Now, the things I eat when I'm in a bad place are things like toast. TWO slices. And the potato soup instead of the vegan chili.
OOOooooo! Trouble!
I remember when it meant fast food drive thru and pints of ice cream and so much food that I really didn't feel anything. Thank God that isn't what this is. This is swimming through fatigue and eating brown rice and spinach and mushrooms for breakfast with a poached egg over the top because I know that there will be BREAD around later in the day. Come on. I rock.
I am grateful that I'm OK. I'm grateful that two days ago it was almost... (shhh, don't say it too loud) easy to run a mile and a half straight through. I only got a little hot. No big deal. I'm grateful that my husband and I can even joke about the recording of our discussions. Grateful for intelligent children, and good friends and jobs and food and firewood outside, just in case. Grateful that I had a wonderful dog for so many, many years. Grateful that I have friends who trust me enough to come over and do their laundry and throw their children in the big bathtub and hang out with me while they deal with their septic system issues.
It's good. It's only a little pause. I'll sleep again someday. It will all be good. And really it's so much better already, I'm wickedly grateful for that.
Maybe just a pause.
It's not totally intentional. Just life and some three hour spans of insomnia, and other things that make me feel like sludge. No, I don't know what sludge really is, but it's a fantastic word.
Other things like fighting with my spouse. No, not real fighting. Just that discussion that is the same one we've had for 15 or 20 years. If one of us had the presence of mind to actually record it someday we could stop at the beginning of a disagreement and exclaim "HEY! Get the recording, we don't actually have to do this, we can go out for coffee while the discussion happens without us!"
I have every confidence that it has nothing to do with the hours there in my bed, waiting to fall back asleep for hours and hours. And having to actually function the next day.
OK, it has everything to do with that.
Sleep is the biggest drug of all, I am totally addicted and if I don't get it, I do go a little bit ballistic.
But I have to pull out the gratitude journal and remember so many things more than the three I make myself write every day. (yes, warm slippers can be on the list 46 days in a row)
Now, the things I eat when I'm in a bad place are things like toast. TWO slices. And the potato soup instead of the vegan chili.
OOOooooo! Trouble!
I remember when it meant fast food drive thru and pints of ice cream and so much food that I really didn't feel anything. Thank God that isn't what this is. This is swimming through fatigue and eating brown rice and spinach and mushrooms for breakfast with a poached egg over the top because I know that there will be BREAD around later in the day. Come on. I rock.
I am grateful that I'm OK. I'm grateful that two days ago it was almost... (shhh, don't say it too loud) easy to run a mile and a half straight through. I only got a little hot. No big deal. I'm grateful that my husband and I can even joke about the recording of our discussions. Grateful for intelligent children, and good friends and jobs and food and firewood outside, just in case. Grateful that I had a wonderful dog for so many, many years. Grateful that I have friends who trust me enough to come over and do their laundry and throw their children in the big bathtub and hang out with me while they deal with their septic system issues.
It's good. It's only a little pause. I'll sleep again someday. It will all be good. And really it's so much better already, I'm wickedly grateful for that.
Friday, January 2, 2009
The spirit sprawled under the pile of unmatched socks
I cannot believe how much time and energy this closet renovation is taking. No lie, hours and hours and hours from both adults in the house and while the closet looks fabulous, the stuff that used to live there but got evicted is all over my bedroom.
My house has no storage.
It's a problem, but not a big one!
What blows my mind is what I put up with for five whole years in this set-up with this closet. Really, my clothes were stuffed in these little shelves behind the door of the walk in closet, or piled on top of the highest shelf where not even my super tall brother-in-law would have seen them. And it turns out that I had half the hanging space of my husband.
The thing is? Looking at it, I had no idea that I had an inadequate set-up. I had no idea that things didn't make sense given how many clothes I have in comparison to my ruthlessly weeding husband. I had no idea that there was a problem.
For me this is a big, huge, flashing, neon sign and it says: "You Do Not See Yourself As Important!"
Yep. Or maybe I'm learning to. A little bit at a time, and maybe that's the skeleton key that opens all those doors, and even some of the windows that hold the key to healthy life.
The bad news? I think we have to put my dog to sleep, and no one who has loved this dog could do anything but fall apart for a good long time if that's what we have to do. She's been my other half for ten years; old when we got her, really old now. The kindest being who ever walked the earth.
Maybe I'll go hide in that clean closet for a while.
My house has no storage.
It's a problem, but not a big one!
What blows my mind is what I put up with for five whole years in this set-up with this closet. Really, my clothes were stuffed in these little shelves behind the door of the walk in closet, or piled on top of the highest shelf where not even my super tall brother-in-law would have seen them. And it turns out that I had half the hanging space of my husband.
The thing is? Looking at it, I had no idea that I had an inadequate set-up. I had no idea that things didn't make sense given how many clothes I have in comparison to my ruthlessly weeding husband. I had no idea that there was a problem.
For me this is a big, huge, flashing, neon sign and it says: "You Do Not See Yourself As Important!"
Yep. Or maybe I'm learning to. A little bit at a time, and maybe that's the skeleton key that opens all those doors, and even some of the windows that hold the key to healthy life.
The bad news? I think we have to put my dog to sleep, and no one who has loved this dog could do anything but fall apart for a good long time if that's what we have to do. She's been my other half for ten years; old when we got her, really old now. The kindest being who ever walked the earth.
Maybe I'll go hide in that clean closet for a while.
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