Weighty Matters

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Changing the Failure Mindset

I’ve been thinking of myself as a failure because I have not reached my goal weight, even almost four years after my weight loss surgery.  This mindset does mean things to me emotionally, mentally, spiritually and, ultimately physically.  It wreaks havoc with my eating disorder.  Anything that results in me feeling or thinking badly of myself can trigger disease-related eating and relapse.

For a couple of weeks, I was thoroughly depressed about the situation, much more so than I’ve been in years.  I was constantly caught up in failure feelings, beating myself up, joy-less in spirit, at least where my physical improvements and recovery were concerned.   I wanted to anesthetize the feelings and mood in carbs and sugar.  That all just made me feel worse.

Then, for some reason last week, I pulled out of it.  I recommitted to my program and got back in touch with feeling good about myself.  Positive feelings beget more positive feelings.  I went several days without a single starchy carb and wasn’t grabbing for handfuls of chocolate, other candies or other sugar-laden foods.  Even through the bad weeks, I’d continued with my kick-butt rowing classes but now I could note positive changes in my body shape, appreciate the increased strength, better range of motion and other benefits.

I felt powerful inside and out and took the time to really acknowledge and experience the upswing.

This led to me really investigating my mindset and laying out the reality check to sift and separate the truth from the distorted thinking.

These statements are false:

  • I’m a weight loss failure.
  • I can’t do this.
  • I’m weak-willed.
  • I’m unhealthy.
  • I suck.

These statements are true:

  • I have not reached goal weight.
  • I have lost and am maintaining a weight loss of around 140 pounds.  (I have never maintained a significant weight loss for this long a time!)
  • Sometimes I fall back into relapse eating.
  • More often, I eat sanely and on my recovery plan.
  • When eating sanely and on plan, I overall make far healthier food choices.
  • I am physically active and stronger.
  • I haven’t lost weight in total number of pounds in the last two months, but I know my overall fat-to-lean muscle mass ratio has improved.  There are fewer pounds of fat, more of muscle.
  • I am determined.

Looking at those lists, I am so happy to see that I know the lies from the truths.  I’m also happy to see that the positive list is twice as long.  It is amazing that positive thinking can lead to such positive change.  My mindset over the last week has completely changed for the better.  I’m not wallowing in despair or steeping my spirit in depression and sadness.  I have returned to celebrating the good, real, strong progress that I’ve made.

 

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Once More With Feeling

Once more, I dig deep and resolve to get myself moving in the right direction.  I was doing so well with balancing things for a while and this past week I crashed emotionally and physically.  I’m eating in full out relapse and physically feel like total crap.  My stomach is off.  I’m bloated like I’m retaining fluid for three people.  I refuse to get on the scale so that I don’t totally demoralize myself.

Emotionally, I’m sad, depressed, angry with myself.  Spiritually, I’m downhearted.  Mentally, I go between WTF (What the f&&k) and DGU (Don’t give up).

Here are the bright spots.  Despite everything, I stuck to working out three times last week and gave it my all in rowing classes, Tai Chi and getting Nat out for walks.  When I finish this I’m either going to go for a bike ride or go in the pool.

Emotionally, the bright spot came when talking to one of my closest friends, I talked about how I’m still going through grieving for Pyxi.  My friend could have said, “Suck it up.  It’s been two weeks.”  Instead, she shared that she still experiences moments of grief when she sees a box of things that belonged to her beloved dog who passed a couple of years ago.  So, instead of a negative judgment, I got a much needed validation.

This helped a great deal because I’ve been judging myself all week.

I understand that this is a function of my disease.  If I ever wanted to make it an actual creature in a horror novel, here’s how I would characterize it.  It would be an evil, needy force that craved human emotional pain to to feel alive; that gained substance in form whenever its victim criticized, judged, and body-shamed herself; that took sustenance from the addictive substances that its victim consumed.  So, needing these things for its own survival, the disease would take control of its victim to incite these things and then gobble them up.

Knowing all this, there are times when I just want to crawl into bed, pull the covers over my head and hide or wallow in my own misery.  Times when I want to say, “What’s the use.  I can’t win.”

Thankfully, somehow, somewhere with help from whatever Higher Power refuses to abandon me, I find the need to dig deep and try once more.

Tomorrow, I’m going the full liquid route.  This is not a crash diet.  I simply want to remove as many food options as possible.  Fewer choices mean fewer chances for my disease to take control and lead me to making the wrong choice.  Plus, my stomach physically feels raw inside from the crap I’ve been eating, like I’ve rubbed it raw with junk.  It needs to be treated gently for a while.

I’ve thought off and on about whether to face the music and weigh myself tomorrow.  Right now, I’ve decided against taking that step.  I’ve meditated over whether this is denial on my part, but I’ve decided that it isn’t.  What I want to achieve is the simple act of getting abstinent again.  I don’t want to make this about how much weight I might have gained over the last week or how much weight I might lose on a food plan of full liquids.  It isn’t about moving up and down in my numbers.  It’s how restoring my emotional, physical, mental and spiritual stability.

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Food and Crises

When I look back at events in my life, I can’t think of a single major crisis in which I did not use food and overeating to try to cope.  My father’s sudden death kicked off an eating spree in which put on the 100 pounds that I’d recently lost and then some.  Mom’s relapses and later her illness and death – same thing.  I always turned to food and binge eating.  Stress, grief, anxiety, anger, sadness — pick an emotion that might threaten to overwhelm me and keep me from functioning and I would eat-eat-eat-eat in order to cram them down into tight little boxes so that I could stay on track with handling the crisis.

That I am managing to stay on track right now during Pyxi’s illness is miraculous.  It also takes effort, focus, and a willingness to fight for my abstinence and recovery.  I’m not 100% perfect, but hot damn, I’m doing a really good job taking care of myself while I take care of my little girl dog.

Right now, ironically, among the big challenges in her illness is her weight loss.  We’ve stopped the nausea and vomiting, but she is turning up her cute little nose at most foods.  She needs carbs but all she’ll eat consistently is protein — cooked chicken, specifically.  Forget the special formula of dog food for kidney disease patients.  She took one sniff and turned away as if I’d offered her some foul preparation.  She ate rice for a little while and then tired of it and acted like pasta was a new fave food.  Now she’s over that too.  She never quite went for smashed potatoes either.

Unlike her, if someone coaxed me to eat rice, pasta and potatoes for my own good, I’d chow down like a champ!  Food has a strong, insidious, tempting call. I went to the grocery store, desperate to find a range of possible things I could try to tempt her to eat a little more.  I thought of baby foods, mac and cheese, even whole wheat bread.  As we all know, the check out lines are bordered by racks of two things – magazines and candy.  While the clerk scanned my purchases, I caved and grabbed a small packet of mini-candies.  I got out to the car, grabbed the packet out of the bag and ripped it open to cram a few little pieces into my mouth.  Then my head caught up to my compulsive impulse and said, “Wait.  Think about what you’re doing.”  “Shut up,” I said to that voice.  I worked out hard this morning.  Some chocolate won’t hurt.”  However, while I said that in my head, I also read the label.  One package of little pieces of candy would add up to 310 calories!  Yikes!

On top of that, the very act of eating compulsively, of grabbing and ingesting food that I didn’t plan to eat, acting out of stress or an other emotion, does more damage to me emotionally and mentally than the sugar and carbs do to my nutritional goals for the day.

Eating the rest of this candy is not going to help me and it won’t do a darned thing positive for Pyxi.  She and I both need for me to be calm, as relaxed as possible, clear-headed and functioning.  We don’t need me to trigger a binge-eating relapse.

I grabbed the candy package and crushed it in my hand, squeezing all the remaining individual bite-sized pieces into one messed-up ball.  Then I started the car and drove home.  After I parked and got out of my car, I took the candy package and threw it into the outside trash.  That was a positive act for myself and for my recovery.  Stopping myself from consuming all of the candy and then knowing not to tempt myself by bringing the rest of it into the house, showed me that I am stronger for today than my disease.  This elevated me a great deal.

Inside, I tried out a few different foods, offering them to Pyxi.  She wasn’t interested in the little sweet potato/rice puffs or the mac and cheese.  She did eat half a slice of whole wheat bread. Desperate to get her to eat something more, I decided that if all she would consume was more poultry, at least it was better than her stopping at half a slice of bread.  I spooned out some of my ground turkey leftovers from last night.  That was much more to her liking.  She ate several pieces before going back to her bed for another nap.  I decided that I’ll try her with some more and a little more bread later on.

I then proceeded to eat my own, planned-for lunch, which I enjoyed.  Not only did it taste good, but since I planned it out and ate on track, I didn’t have the negative emotions and thoughts that accompany my meals when I’m not on plan.  One more time, I was dealing with the crisis using my program rather than using food.

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Eating Choices Rant

Yesterday in between my bike ride and my snorkel trip, I watched Food Network for a while.  I’ve said before that I’m mildly addicted to watching cooking shows.  Some would wonder if this is a good idea for me to so often watch shows that focus on food.  I wonder that sometimes myself.  However, in my defense, I think that I’ve learned more about preparing good, healthy food of greater variety from watching than I would have otherwise.  I think I’m also discerning enough to know when a recipe is something that would be good for me to try or a meal I should stay far, far away from.

I have noticed that most of the shows aren’t focused on cooking healthy.  The chefs like their butter, oil, heavy cream and frying.  Nothing goes unsalted.  It’s all about building flavors, unctuous mouth feel, velvety sauces (more cream and butter), and so on.  Seriously, I get this.  Gastronomes R Us.

So what’s my takeaway as someone who is on a quest to lose weight and change my eating lifestyle from totally unhealthy to healthier?  Well, amid the butter/cream/frying/salting are the wonderful nuggets of information and technique that teach me how to build flavor into my food in ways that don’t require the extra calories.

And, often enough, I find a show where someone does something really cool and tasty with a new vegetable or demonstrates a completely different dish in a way that makes me realize that it wouldn’t be all that difficult for me to try.  There are a few simple truths.  If healthy food doesn’t taste good, nobody wants to eat it.  Good food can still be healthy.

I love watching Ina Garten, the Barefoot Contessa.  On her show, she makes the most wonderful dishes look like they’re easy to prepare.  I won’t pretend that everything she produces on her show falls in the healthy category, but every once in a while she scores for me.  Yesterday, she made kale chips.  Kale chips! Easy as anything to do and so tasty.  Since I have lacinato (aka dinosaur) kale in my fridge, this was an easy dish to replicate for lunch.  Preheat oven to 350 degrees.  Spread out a few whole kale leaves on a pan.  Brush lightly with olive oil and sprinkle with a little salt and ground black pepper.  Bake for about ten minutes until crisping up.  Sprinkle with a little parmesan and return to oven until cheese melts.

Kale is a healthy, leafy, dark green vegetable.  Olive oil is a healthier fat. There wasn’t enough oil used to be bad either.  Same thing with the salt and cheese. It was a very tasty snack and, since I had a late lunch, more than enough.  Thank you, Barefoot Contessa.

While I was munching on my crispy kale, Guy Fieri’s Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives aired on Food Network.  I heard that one of the restaurants he would visit is in my home area up in South Jersey so, of course, I was interested.  This restaurant must have opened since I moved down to Florida because I’d never heard of it.  While Guy and I watched, the owner prepared a Pork Belly Reuben sandwich.  (Disclaimer:  I love a good, traditional Reuben.  I don’t eat them very often and when I do, I end up having it over at least two meals because they’re huge.  This helps me keep from feeling guilty over eating them at all.)

(Further disclaimer:  I’ve had pork belly sandwiches (aka porchetta) before, too.  They can be very good.)

Today’s show, however, totally grossed me out.  Pork belly is very fatty.  Ok, so is bacon, but at least it’s crisp fat on bacon and you’re eating it in mostly thin slices.  For this sandwich, the chef cut off four thick — 3/4 of an inch thick at the very minimum — slices of cooked pork belly and grilled them on a flat top.  The camera zoomed in on the meat.  I swear there was a border of uncrisp fat on each slice that was the width of one of my fingernails.

He also slathered butter on the bread and slapped that down to grill.  I think he grilled the kraut too.  He then assembled the sandwich with the fatty bread, melted cheese, grilled kraut, and the thick slices of fatty meat and served it up.

As Guy was eating it, he made a reference to the sandwich requiring a health certificate.  I looked at the sandwich and thought, “Heart attack on a plate.”  I wondered how the hell Guy or anybody could eat it; how anybody could want to.  Then I had a flashback.  I used to be the person who would not only want to, but would devour it in a single meal with a big side of fries, too, please.  The same person who would order a Quarterpounder with cheese, large fries, giant soda and a couple of apple pies.

I’m not judging.  I’m just inexplicably angry right now.  I’m angry that I spent a lot of years eating like that.  I remember when the first McDs opened in our area.  We thought it was fascinating to see burgers coming down a conveyor belt.  Same thing with KFC.  Chicken as the delivery system for eleven deep fried herbs and spices.  I’m royally pissed off for all of the times I binged on overloaded foods of any type and washed them don by guzzling corn syrup-sweetened soda.

My brother went off to college and came back for the holidays with a greater awareness of food and healthy eating.  He gave up eating meat when he was 18.  (He eats seafood, eggs and dairy products but all in moderation.)  He chose to prepare meals with more vegetables, lower fat, greater variety.  He loves ice cream but never overindulges.  I don’t think he puts melted butter on his popcorn.

I wish I’d done the same.  I wish that the effort for me to eat healthier choices in healthier ways without overindulging and being compulsive wasn’t such a damned struggle all the freaking time.  If wishes were horses, beggars would ride.  If wishes were pounds lost, I’d be lower than goal weight.

I can’t get there by wishing.  It takes work, effort.  It takes the damned struggle.    It takes not giving up.  Even when you follow a great day by a not-so-stellar day.  It takes being willing to put the non-stellar days behind you and recommit that the next choice will be a healthy one.

It takes ignoring the unhealthy-for-me food that might taste decadent and delicious like a pork belly reuben, and enjoying the flavor, texture and crunch of a kale chip.

It means making this happen for me.  Every day.

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As you were reading this post did it seem like I switched topics along the way and that the post did not wind up where you thought it might be going in the beginning.

Yeah, me, too.

This is a great example of why I do this blog.  The writing process puts me in touch with things that I might not even be aware that I’m feeling because they’re buried.  I had no idea that when I started writing today I would end up tapping into some deep resentment and anger, but that’s what happened, so I went with it.  To go back and rework the post from the beginning feels like it would be less-than-authentic, so I left it as was.

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Day by Day

It’s Day 8 of the Lean-Green-Clean effort.  So far so good, mostly.  I’m still refraining from chocolate, refined sugar, junk carbs like white bread or potatoes, cakes, cookies, etc.  I’m eating more vegetables, fruits, and lean proteins.  My body feels great.  I lost seven pounds in the first week.  My head and heart are serene and happy.  My spirit is encouraged by my ability to stay on the program.

I won’t pretend it’s been easy all of the time.  Some nights I need to guard against the compulsive behavior, even if the extra food I’m tempted to reach for is something healthy from my plan.  The behavior is as much of a risk to me as the actual food items.

Cravings pop up from time to time.  It’s always important for me to analyze whether the craving is real — a physical desire for a type of food (salty, sweet, crunchy, whatever), for a specific food, or if it’s a mental/emotional craving.

I’d put together a lean, healthier version of a meat loaf to bake for dinner tonight.  Lean ground meat augmented with chopped peppers and onions and spinach.  Driving home from a doctor’s appointment, I thought about that protein and started thinking about how I’d always served it with mashed potatoes and gravy.  All of a sudden, the broccoli I’d planned to steam as a side dish had zero appeal and I started craving creamy mashed potatoes, darn it.

It wasn’t a physical “want” but a mental and somewhat emotional or associative desire.  Potatoes stayed in my mind while I ran some errands and then inspiration struck.  I could buy some cauliflower and mash that instead which would keep me on the low-carb/more veggie path but, hopefully, satisfy the craving.  I made the conscious choice to allow myself this substitution from the broccoli and drove to the supermarket to get the cauliflower.

Once I was in the store, I started thinking about chocolate.  Rich, dark, chocolate.  Not a lot, just a single piece.  It won’t hurt, my eating disorder said to me.  You’ve been so good and on point, it cajoled.  Go ahead.  Really.  It’s okay.

In the short line at the checkout, I went so far as picking up a bar and then putting it back.  “I never liked chocolate with cherries in it,” I said to myself.  Right before the employee started scanning my other purchases, I picked up another bar – one which I darn well knew I loved.  You can bring this home and trust yourself to only eat a square of it, my disease assured me.

My disease lies.  Oddly enough, it was that lie that snapped me out of the compulsion.  I put back the chocolate bar and finished my purchase, then immediately left the store.

Sometimes recovery isn’t achieved day by day, it’s minute by minute.  Definitely choice by choice.  Today, I prevailed.  By the way, the healthy meatloaf and mashed cauliflower were delicious.

In other news, I restarted treatment for my bad knee.  The orthopedic doctor injected me with Euflexxa, a hyaluronic acid product, to hopefully restore some cushion in my knee joint.  Getting the shot honestly isn’t that big a deal.  He numbs my knee with an icy spray first so I don’t even feel the “pinch” of the needle going into my leg.  (The two inch long, somewhat thick needle, I might add, with a nod to my toughness. :-).)  It’s a little sore tonight but I’ve complied with the instructions to rest and ice it for 20 minutes at a time for five or six times.  I’m on restricted activity for 48 hours which, unfortunately, means I can’t do Tai Chi for a couple of days, but I’ll be back on it by Friday.

It’s all worth it if the full course of treatment improves my overall knee condition, reduces the pain, and helps me maintain a strong level of activity.

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Acceptance

In comments on the previous post, Forest Jane and I talked about how we can’t bring certain foods into the house because they’ll call to us all of the time and we’ll eat them.

I said that I can’t fool myself any longer and think that I won’t binge, in my own post weight loss surgery type of binge, on certain foods if I have them available in my house.  This has stayed with me in my  mind since.  The process of mulling this over caused some things to bubble up for me, even though the concept of keeping my house free of binge-trigger foods is nothing new.  It seriously could be the umpteenth time, or even the umpteenth squared time, that I’ve thought about this in the last 30 or so years.

You’d think I’d have gotten the point by now.  I have a little disgust twinge going on, but I’m also trying to remember that it doesn’t matter how often we think about something, or hear a suggestion, or even know intellectually that we should do something a certain way… if we aren’t ready, we aren’t ready, and we won’t make the connection.  Even if we make the connection, we can dig in our heels and resist.

Acceptance is the key, but I need willingness to reach that point.

I keep thinking that some day, somehow, I’m going to be able to eat “normally”, be a “normal” person when it comes to food.  That’s nothing new.  I know that for me, the only thing normal about my eating is that I will always be a food addict/compulsive overeater.  There is no cure.  I can only learn helpful things, tools, and means for keeping in recovery, even while accepting that I will never fully recover.

Today, this acceptance revealed an additional realization.  I’ve had it in my mind that when I get to goal weight, I’ll be fixed.  I won’t always have to do this, always be mindful, commit every day to working the program, and remain vigilant.  That is the worst kind of denial.  I can’t believe that I’ve continued to pretend otherwise for so long.

I get it. I don’t like it, but I get it.  There’s no time limit on the disease.

Mentally, I’ve known this for decades.  Today it feels like the rest of me is catching on, or at least catching up.

I have a lot of feelings about it.  I’m  a little glum in my acceptance, but at the same time pragmatic — it is what it is.  There’s resentment but I’m also ready to embrace it and keep moving forward.  While I haven’t worked through it to find the joy, I am catching a glimmer of grace in make these forward steps.

I’m grateful because, at the end of the day, I know that I can continue to recover.

 

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Eating Away Self-Esteem

Aside from the obvious health and life expectancy risks the negative effect that I hate the most is the damage that compulsive overeating and obesity do to my self-esteem and confidence.  I may seem and act strong and secure, but the mental and emotional struggle to get there are very real.

It’s like the act of overeating, or of eating compulsively, just erodes away my core emotional strength.  I start to doubt myself and my abilities.  I begin to worry about how I’m perceived.  I project that my weight enters the room/meeting/situation before me and sets me up to be judged and evaluated on how I look.  If I’m not on the alert for this internal process, I start to shrink within myself and begin “playing smaller”.

Playing small is a reference from Marianne Williamson’s great reminder piece.  In it she proclaims that “Your playing small does not serve the world.”  I’m here to tell you that playing small doesn’t serve me either.

I seriously don’t like that my eating disorder leads to me undermining myself.  It’s difficult enough to fight the external impulse of food without dealing with the internal challenges.  Every piece of my confidence that erodes needs to be replaced.  I have to devote mental and emotional energy to shoring up my core and my foundation.   It’s damned exhausting.

It’s such an odd thing that food and eating have so much power beyond being or providing fuel for the body.  Food needs to stay in its place in life as that fuel.  No more, no less and no different.

The coming week is filled with industry-related meetings.  These will require the best of my energy on all three levels – physical, mental and emotional.  I’m already prepping, not only the paperwork, notes, and other materials, but also myself.

My confidence has taken a hit in the last few weeks.  I need to build it back up again.  My confidence took a hit but it isn’t out for the count.   I’m picking it up and setting it straight so that I will function without fear in the way that I need to and how I know that I can.

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When Eating Runs Amok

I feel a great need to apologize for not posting in quite some time.  It’s been a whirlwind around here, including a five day visit by friends who stayed with me, followed immediately by a business trip.  It’s a busy holiday season in the Keys right now, so I no sooner got home from the trip before I launched into the fray.  Sorry about that, everyone.  I hope you’re all doing well.

Time for some brutal, denial-busting honesty.  I’ve been eating off of my food plan like crazy.  While I’m not in binge mode, I’m definitely eating wayyyy too many carbs and too much sugar, not adhering to my planned meal/snack times, and grabbing food compulsively just because it’s around.  This is full out disease eating.  Not only is it affecting me physically, but mentally and emotionally as well.  I am trying not to freak out, but I’m growing increasingly fearful that I can’t rein myself in, that I’ll gain all of my weight back, that I’m a bariatric surgery failure.  In short, that I suck and am badbadbadbad.

Yes, I know that’s the disease talking, but when my eating runs amok, so do my feelings.

Have I mentioned at any time that I really, really hate having an eating disorder?

Can you fathom how much I resent watching friends and colleagues eat full meals and not gain weight when it sometimes feels like all I have to do is look at a portion of something and the pounds adhere to my body like someone stuck them there with glue.

While maintaining my bright, smiling, positive personality on the outside, inside I am a whining, scared, pissed-off-at-myself, beyotch.  To top it all off, on my trip I wore heels more than I do at home.  They aren’t stilettos or skyscraper height by any means, but even a two-inch wedge puts my knees and hips at a different angle.  I have unaccustomed, random, phantom heel pain – in my left foot, i.e. the opposite of my bad right knee.  Of course pain couldn’t cooperate by at least being on the same side, right?  So, my body also aches and my joints hurt, which makes it that much harder to exercise.

Have I mentioned at any time, that I really, really hate it when I whine?

So, I’m doing what I can do.  I still walk the dogs twice a day.  I am committed to doing my Tai Chi daily, which truly helps by loosening up tightness, keeping my circulation and joint fluid moving, and providing some Zen-like stress relief.

The food?  Well, the food is a different challenge.  At a time like this, a broken jaw could be useful because with it wired I’d be limited to liquids and the occasional mushy meal.

I need to act like a true addict fighting for recovery and Just. Say. No.  No to the candy and other sweets.  No to grabbing extra food that wasn’t planned for.  No to giving up and giving into the disease.

I am not a failure and I refuse to be.  I will not give up the physical recovery I have worked to hard to attain.  I. Will. Not.

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Scale Separation Anxiety

Holy cow.  I weighed myself one final time this morning because, for all of my brave talk yesterday, I wanted, needed to know my number before I embarked on giving up the scale and not focusing on the number.  Oh sure, if I’d been really strong I wouldn’t have gotten on the scale this morning, but I caved.  I’m glad that I did because I received the reassurance that I did not gain weight on my cruise.  So, Booyah for me on that point.

After I saw the number, I got off of the scale and nudged it under the dresser.  There it will remain.  I am determined that I am not going to weigh every day, or even once a week.  I think I should go for 30 days of abstinent living and not weigh myself for a month.

Can I tell you that the thought of going that long tenses me up?  I haven’t even gone a regular 24 hours without weighing myself and I’m already feeling some separation anxiety.

This is ridiculous.  Clearly I am even more obsessed with my weight number than I realized — and I thought I’d realized that I am pretty damn obsessed.  Friends, let me tell you.  Feeling this stress and tension drives home the point that I really need to take this action and break my scale number addiction.  In appropriate doses, the scale number can be a healthy measure of progress.  What I’m doing, this fixation, is not healthy.  So, changing the behavior is, I think, a step in the right direction.  I am even more determined to focus my attention and effort on eating in an abstinent manner — making it my daily goal to be abstinent for the day, each day, one day at a time.

Abstaining from compulsive overeating is the essence of my recovery.  Losing excess weight is the happy extra benefit.  (Hah — can I be my own friend with bennies?  Bad joke.  Sorry.)

Okay.  Here we go.  I’m going to make a commitment.  I honestly don’t know if I can hold out for a whole month, so I’m going to shoot for a shorter commitment but still one that’s a significant amount of time to count.  I will not weigh myself again until Monday, February 16th.  Two weeks.  I can do this.  Instead of obsessing over my weight number, I will concentrate on my abstinence and recovery.  Every day.  One day at a time.

By the way, I had a great abstinent day today.  I don’t want to let my scale issues cloud the acknowledgment that today was a good food day.

Tomorrow, I wake up and do it again.

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The Ones Who Really Understand

I am very fortunate that the great majority of my family and friends understand me and my eating disorder struggles.  They are incredibly supportive of my efforts and recovery.  Not everyone is this fortunate.

I also count myself extremely lucky that I have some good friends who have also had weight loss surgery.  There are aspects to this journey that they also know and experience so the depth of their understanding is, understandably, greater.  They can and do offer insights that I can’t expect others to have and share.

During this annual round of holiday visits, I get to see a couple of my weight loss surgery sisters-in-arms.  I spent some time and a couple of meals with one yesterday.  We talked a bit about how it feels to struggle some after an extended period of success.  We also achieve a strong level of no-bullshit in which we can acknowledge to each other where we can and need to do better in our efforts.  We talked about recommitting to long term goals.  Near the end of the evening she said we should check in with each other every day.  We live in separate states but we have the internet and our cell phones.  January 1, let the daily text messages of support, encouragement and, when necessary, strong reminders, begin!

In a little while I’m meeting another friend.  Of all of my friends, she is the one who has long term time in OA and the one with whom I can best talk about the craziness of this eating disease.  We aren’t really crazy in the clinical sense.  (Non-politically correct terminology aside.)  There are simply some aspects, behaviors, and attitudes that make me feel a little nutty sometimes because, you know, “normal” people would do/think/act this way with food.

The timing couldn’t be better for me to get together with these ladies.  As I set up to knuckle down after the holidays, I can reconnect with what I need to know and do to be successful.  Hopefully, speaking to me will help them with things they need too.

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