Tragedy and therapy

I experienced tragedy in the middle of May.  My life will never be the same again. 

A couple of my friends were murdered in a senseless and horrible way.  I was in shock for a couple of weeks and I still keep thinking I’ll see one of the two friends at any minute…like they are not gone.  My heart aches and will for a very long time.

I’ve coped as I always have…I’ve eaten.  I’ve been trying very hard to make sure I’m really hungry before I eat but I’ve also been keenly aware of when I’m eating to cope.  It really doesn’t matter at this point.

About a week prior to the murders, I finally found a therapist in my very long search for one.  My appointment is scheduled for tomorrow and it couldn’t have come at a better time.  On top of the stress from the tragedy, my workload has doubled and I’m not coping with that very well.  I had a meltdown at work yesterday and voiced my very harsh opinions to a supervisor – of course as always, nothing helps.

I took off work today because I felt like I needed a me day.  I slept until 2:30 this afternoon and I sat out on my back patio.  I did nothing and it really didn’t help because it just left me time to think about all that’s going on.

I’m afraid I’m going to lose it at the therapists office tomorrow and she’ll think I’m totally crazy.  I’m not crazy but I know I’m feeling helpless, hopeless and exhausted.  I’m also feeling desperate – desperate to be heard, desperate for a new job or help with my current one, desperate for one night’s sleep that’s uninterrupted with horrible thoughts of the tragedy or funny memories from when they were alive.

I could type forever but I’m going to close for now.  Think about me tomorrow as I go for my first therapy session.  If she doesn’t admit me to the nearest psych ward, maybe I’ll be able to give you an update tomorrow night.

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Never Felt Thinner….

… never been fatter. 

This is ironic to those who are wrapped up in a thin-obsessed, dieting mindset, but I have little doubt that this is a reality many of us have realized who have ventured along the road less travelled – body acceptance and self-love. 

It was no difficulty to accept that my latest anti-dep (that I started last November) isn’t helping me take the weight I gained on Prozac.  I suspect it is keeping me at a size larger than I would be without antidepressants.  Thankfully, happiness and health is more important to me than image, so the fat bit isn’t bothering me… and I went clothes shopping.  I was able to shop at Lane Bryant, meaning that I have out-grown my in-betweenie status that made it hard to find clothes in conventional or plus sizes.  I was just happy that there was clothes out there that fit me.   

I am going to abstain from giving my jean size, because I know there are those out there who are still so triggered by such things and comparisons just aren’t helpful anyway.  What I will say is that I, personally, have never been fatter.  Nor, have I ever been happier, felt so healthy or even felt this “thin” before.  Now, in eating disorder treatment, I learned that fat is not a feeling… hence, neither is thin a feeling.  But, living in this culture that not only things fat/thin are feelings, but also states of morality (or immorality), I cannot help but fall into these descriptions at times.  In this case, I find it is actually useful for the sake of analysis. 

What does thin even feel like?  Well… when I ask myself where the automatic thought of “I’ve never felt thinner” came from, immediately a feeling of health and strength comes to mind.  I have energy I have never had before.  I think more clearly than ever.  My body seems to strong and reliable.  I have fewer health complaints than I can remember since I was a pre-teen and all my depression/stress/PTSD-related illnesses started popping up. 

And yet… fatter than ever.    In fact, obese.  Take that, fat-fearers!

I have been thin before and it never felt this good.  I don’t know if my body can even do thin without some serious eating-disordered behaviors in place (which was the case before).  In my experience, thin does not equate to health *for me.*  Oh yes, there are naturally thin women out there who are healthy as the thin women they are – I am simply not one of them.  I am a part of glorious human diversity, whether Self or Cosmo magazines agree with me or not.  I am after more than just image here… I am after real health and happiness whatever that means, even if it means being fat. 

While I haven’t been posting much (I”ve been focusing a lot on the realization that my mother has a lot of Narcissistic traits, if not full-blown NPD, and figuring out where to go from here with my new knowledge…), I have been reading here and there on the acceptance blogs.  I have read how certain polls seem to show that many people don’t believe it is even possible to be fat and happy, thus equating happiness with thinness.  How very sad.  Thinness is just thinness – nothing more.  It isn’t success or happiness incarnate.  It is a state of the body… just as fat is.

Today, I celebrate feeling happier and healthier than ever and marvel at another every day miracle that seems to happen all the time for me now… being able to realize that, yes, I’m still obese, so I might as well go buy bigger clothes to accommodate my body as it is and that isn’t a problem.  In fact, it is an act of healthy self-love and self-care.  Yay me! 

And, no, fat/thin isn’t a feeling.  Neither is thin.  I challenge the automatic thoughts, even as I analyze them to deconstruct common ways of thinking about our bodies in Western culture. 

Soon, I’ll be going for a medical check-up that is long-overdue.  I think I am ready to take on a fat-hating doctor, if that is what I end up with.  I find myself laughing out-loud (and good-naturedly) at people speaking the language of the diet obsessed in the cafe where I work.  My customers seem to enjoy my comments about food being fuel with no moral value and how labelling things as “bad” and “forbidden” can often fuel obsession and binging.  I have never felt healthier, but I have also never felt more secure within my own body acceptance and acceptance of intuitive eating.  Bring it on, docs… maybe I can teach you a thing or two… if you’ll let me.

–AngryGrayRainbows

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Undue pressure

I put so much undue pressure on myself. Pressure to be good. Pressure to be right. Pressure to be in control. Pressure to do and say all the right things. PRESSURE! PRESSURE! PRESSURE!

Sometimes I put myself under so much pressure I think I’m going to explode like a can of soda that’s been shaken. Once that soda can reaches it’s pressure point, it spews all kinds of crap everywhere and is uncontrollable.

I say all that to tell you that is how I have felt about posting here.

I have put myself under pressure to post just the right words to inspire and cause deep thought. I have purposefully avoided blogging because I don’t want to do anything “wrong”. I want to say the right thing. I want to be uplifting and a shining example for all. (Again with that damn religious upbringing to be perfect or be condemned to hell!)

When I thought I might blog about this, I came to the realization that that is not why AGR and I started this blog. We, in fact, started this blog to help journal our recovery processes with the hopes of helping or validating others along our path. If I only post about my successes and happy times, it seems to me I will appear “unreal”, “above everyone else” or maybe even “recovered”. I learned a lot by reading of other people’s journeys, about the mountains and valleys they encountered along the way…about the “realness” of their recovery journey, so it is my plan to now be real with you about my recovery journey into self-awareness and self-acceptance.

The healing process consists of the good and the bad. I have to remind myself that I cannot always be that shining example of emotional, physical or spiritual health but that I am a work in progress…and that’s ok. It’s more than OK! It’s phenomenal! I’d rather be a work in progress than one who believes she has no issues to talk about and is stagnant. I don’t have all the answers and that’s ok too.

I’m just letting you know before hand that my blogging may take a turn toward the more issue oriented, not so perfect world that is my life. I don’t want to appear to be something I’m not – a well adjusted person with all the answers. I’m just going to be me, warts and all.

~sas

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A new spark!

I have literally been chomping at the bit to post and it seems obstacles have come at me from every direction.

First, I got terribly ill around Christmas…so much so that my doc wanted to admit me into the hospital but I talked him into letting me stay at home, take my meds and go to his office four times a day for breathing treatments.  I’m finally, after over a week of coughing, hacking and blowing my nose, coming back to some sort of routine in my life.

The obstacle that pissed me off the most though, was the fact that our internet service didn’t work at home since around Christmas and we’ve had techs to our house and tried repair calls over the phone 5 or 6 times.  My husband and I have been trying to scratch out messages from our phones but it’s nothing like having a full keyboard and monitor in front of you at your disposal.

So today I’m at a working computer with my box of kleenex and cough drops at the ready and I’m READY TO BLOG!

I know it sounds cliche’ to say at the beginning of a new year that you are inspired to begin anew but I really do feel that way.  Anyone who has known me for very long knows that I tend to take detours from recovery, normalcy, sanity, etc…from time to time.  It’s like I just have to give myself a break to begin anew (there’s that phrase again).  Well, I’ve taken my break of a few months and I’m ready to get back on that recovery road!!!

As a point of reference I’m going to give a little background which a lot of you already know but it’s what my recovery is all about so I’m going to share it with you.

I was born in a little shack, no, no, no!!! 

I was born 46 years ago.  I was raised by fanatically religious parents  to believe that I would never be good enough…good enough at or for anything.  I was raised to believe I was bound for hell and that I would never be good enough to change that…although I should try to live “perfectly” every day of my life and never sin.  (that’s a whole ‘nother blog)

Food, eating, self-loathing and self-degradation became a way of life for me very early on.  The cycle became fierce.  Eat, hate myself, eat some to comfort myself, hate myself some more, food will make it better, hate myself even more.  You know the drill.  During all these years I was going to therapy and never felt that anything was changing.  I wasn’t “getting it”.

In January 2005, I made a visit with my hubby to his therapist and that’s when his therapist informed me I had an eating disorder known as compulsive overeating (COE) and that I needed to get treatment for it or it would only get worse.  He spoke very candidly to me and told me he didn’t know of any local therapists who could help me because the ED specialists in our area focused on anorexia and bulimia.  He suggested I get help online.

I went online that night and found a community that I felt would support my recovery effort and would encourage me to get the help I needed to work through some of the issues I had with food and eating.  I stayed in that online community for three years and even though I came to see that their version of recovery and my version of recovery are different, I know in my heart I would not be as far along as I am now without the help of some of the wonderful people I met on that site.

So where am I in my recovery now?  Well, I guess I need to define for you what I believe my recovery is.  SELF ACCEPTANCE.  Plain and simple.  Am I recovered?  No, not completely.  I still have my days where the pity party comes at me with horns blowing and balloons flying that say, “poor pitiful Sas”.  But am I closer to recovery now than I was in January 2005 when that therapist told me I had COE?  Hell yeah!

The main thing that triggered me to blog about this has been my recent illness.  I went to the doctor when I first got sick on December 23.  Doctor’s visits can be such telling events in your life.  That particular visit was a real eye opener to me.

I go into the doc’s office feeling like shit and coughing my fool head off and I sit in the nurse’s area while she takes my BP and temperature.  Fine and fine.  I even commented, “yeah, I’m the healthiest fat person I know”, because I’ve never had BP issues, cholestrol, sugar issues, etc…  She weighs me and though the numbers don’t really bother me much anymore, I didn’t look at the weight.  I was escorted to my exam room and waited on my doc to come in and see what my problem was.  He prances in (ok, maybe prance is a bit too fluff because he was worn out from seeing so many patients but) and he looks at my chart.  As he’s looking at it I’m coughing loudly and deeply and my lungs are wheezing to beat the band, he looks at me and says, “I don’t know what’s caused the cough but you need to keep it up.  You’ve lost 20 pounds.”  (I guess it’s been a couple of months since I’d seen him last)

WTF?????  Excuse me??????  I said, “I know you think that’s funny but doesn’t it concern you in the least that I’ve lost 20 pounds without even trying?”  I mean I’ve been trying to eat intuitively and listen to my body but I haven’t noticed a huge change in my eating.  He gave me this long speech about how if I were already skinny or thin and had lost 20 pounds, it would concern him.  But since I could stand to lose 120 more, it doesn’t concern him.

Excuse me while I get out my handy dandy soap box a moment…

YOU MEAN BECAUSE I’M FAT ALREADY THEN WEIGHT LOSS IS NOT A HEALTH ISSUE THAT MIGHT NEED TO BE ADDRESSED MORE CLOSELY! ?!?!?  You mean because I’m fat already, I don’t get the same care and concern that a “normal” woman would get????  You mean because I weigh almost 300 pounds, a 20 pound unexplained weight loss doesn’t concern you?????  You mean to tell me that I should REMAIN ILL FOR THE SAKE OF LOSING WEIGHT???????  DO YOU KNOW WHAT A FREAKIN’ EATING DISORDER IS?????????????  You just defined it in that insane statement you just made!  Stay sick to lose weight….are you kidding me??????

Ok, soap box tucked back away under the bed for now.

I will say that in some way I was elated to know that I had lost 20 pounds in such a short amount of time but it still concerns me that there really is no reason for such a weight loss.  I even had thoughts like, “oooooh, 20 pounds!  How did I do it?  Why question it?  Just accept it!  Eat less and make it 30!!”  You know, those disordered thoughts that come with never feeling good enough, thin enough, pretty enough, perfect enough.  I even have to admit that I obsessed for a few days on the words “you lost 20 pounds”.  I know there are so many in the world who would love to hear those four words.

So where am I in recovery?  I’m where I can say I’m no longer obsessed about those 20 pounds.  If I lost them (which I still somehow doubt and think that the doc’s scale was screwed up) then that’s great.  It doesn’t change who I am, where I am, who I’m with or anything else for that matter.  My recovery tells me that I’m fine just the way I am right now, at this moment in time.  Change is good and if I want to change anything about me then that’s my perrogative.  However, if I were to stay the way I am for the rest of my life, the earth would not spin off it’s axis and life would continue on.

And as for my ED-ignorant physician?  Well, I won’t stop going to him but I won’t depend on him for ED sympathies either.  That’s ok.  Another thing I’ve learned about ED’s is:  “ignorance is bliss”.  My doc believes his stuff, I believe mine.  I’m strong enough in my recovery to ignore his stupidity on such issues.

Well, there it is…my first post for the new year.  I hope you guys are safe and sound and that this new year will bring you much joy and SELF ACCEPTANCE!

~sas

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In-laws…company or “family”?

I’m sorry I’ve been away so long but I need a release tonight and this blog is it.  I’m going to make it quick because I’m sick but I had to let it out somewhere.

I’ve been coughing off and on for a week or so and Monday it started getting worse and I could tell something was not so right.  I went to bed after taking some over the counter meds and coughed really deeply all that night.   The next morning I went to work because payroll was due the next morning and I’m the one who does payroll.  I called my doctor and I got an appointment for 3:00.  I got in around 3:15 and by then I was wheezing and I felt like I was suffocating.

My doc gave me loads of prescriptions and sent me home to bed.  I continually got worse.  I got up the next morning after coughing the whole night, with my wheezing getting steadily worse, I took a shower, got dressed and got to work to finish payroll.  While I was working on finishing up payroll I called my doc and told his nurse how bad I was and she said she would give the message to the doc.  I went home around 10:00 and got a call from my doc around 12:30.  He could hear the seriousness of my condition and told me to be there within 15 minutes for a breathing treatment.  My husband was off and he drove me up there.

Ok, so you get the picture…when I got to the doctor he wanted to put me in the hospital.  I begged him not to and told him I would stay in bed if he gave me some more medicine.  He said I had a severe case of bronchitis with a double whammy of congestion at the top of my lungs and then one in the very bottom of them.  I am sick!

I love my in-laws.  I really do.  And I have an even deeper appreciation for them now since both of my parents have passed away but some times I want to tell them to stay home. 

We always have Christmas at our house.  Hubby’s parents come in from three hours away and stay four or five days.  I’ve gotten used to this happening now that we’ve done it for years but this year I would’ve given anything to tell them to stay home or at least get a hotel room.  Does that sound harsh?

At one point I ventured out of bed to say hi to everyone and my mil was on the phone to someone and I heard her tell the person on the other end that I was sick and what was wrong with me and they must of said something like “I’ll bet she doesn’t feel like having company then” because I heard her respond, “I don’t consider us company.”  I guess I should feel blessed that my in-laws love me and that they’re comfortable in my home but the person on the phone was right.  I really don’t feel like having company.  This is the first time I’ve felt good enough to stay out of bed for any length of time for two days.

I keep telling myself it’s just a few days and it is Christmas, they want to be with their son and hubby wants to be with his parents.  I just feel like a knot on a log because I can’t help cook or much of anything.  I just sleep and cough.

Oh the perils of being a good daughter in law.

MERRY CHRISTMAS TO EVERYONE!!!!

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Just fat or could it be something else?

The first thing I’d like to do is apologize to my co-bloggers and our readers for not being here lately.  I’ve hit a snag and it’s brought me back to a mild depression that, if I don’t get a handle on it soon, will only get worse.

My depression has been spawned by non-stop pain.  It’s that vicious cycle of self-abuse when you say to yourself, “well, if I wasn’t so fat, I wouldn’t be in this pain.”  You know, the crap that goes around in your head when you only want to beat yourself up and degrade yourself just a little more every day?  (as if the physical pain weren’t enough…let’s just top it off with a bit of self-disgust)

I’ve experienced this pain and occasional swelling for, I’m guessing, around a year and a half, maybe a little longer.  I’ve been told it’s muscle strain and to not exercise.  I’ve been told it’s a matter of needing to exercise.  I’ve been told it’s sciatica.  At one point I was told my foot was probably broken with a stress fracture.  I’ve had x-rays and taken pain pills, muscle relaxers, sleeping pills, gone to the chiropractor regularly, used heating pads, ice packs, etc…

This latest bit of depression really hit on Sunday.

My husband recently got a promotion and as a gift to himself and from me, we decided to get him a spiffy new briefcase.  We got up Sunday morning and showered and had breakfast  out.  It was a rainy day but I was with my hubby and we were having a good day.  We shopped for a briefcase from 9:00 that morning until about 6:00 that evening…pretty much non-stop.  That means standing and walking all day.  We went to a huge mall and walked all through it and we went to Target, Sams Club, Office Depot and some other stores.  (I know there’s a whole other post in here about how I should’ve known better than to try to shop all day and that I should’ve done a better job of self-care but that’s for another time.)

By 7:00 (within an hour of getting home) I was in bed in pain.  I didn’t go to work Monday or Tuesday.  I stayed in bed both days.  As the physical pain eased up, the emotional pain didn’t budge. 

I had done some research on the internet last week and I found out that a lot of what I’m experiencing (almost every symptom) is exactly what fibromyalgia looks like.  There is no known cure and the cause is unknown at this time.  There’s really not much in the way of medicine to help people with this either.  But it was still a diagnosis and it sounded right to me.  I know that self-diagnosis is not always right so I had planned to make a doctor’s appointment to see if this was a possibility.

After the Sunday, Monday and Tuesday I had this week, I called my general physician and made an appointment for 3:00 yesterday.  Before I went, I typed up a list of the symptoms I was experiencing so he would be able to read it and so that I would remember to mention everything.  I didn’t mention believing that it was fibromyalgia because I wanted him to tell me what he thought I had based on the info I had given him.  The paper I handed him had about 20-25 symptoms on it.

Now this doctor has come a long way in fat acceptance since I started seeing him in the 90′s.  He’s seen me go through my depressions and has seen how I handle myself when it comes to self acceptance.  I guess I was so beat down by this doctor’s appointment that I couldn’t even rally enough to get my point across.  And for some reason, this visit seemed to be a reversal for my doctor because he was definitely weight focused.

I was sitting on the table when he entered the room and had my paper in my hand.  I could tell he was in a good mood.  He asked me what was wrong and I proceeded to tell him about my constant pain and he saw my paper.  I handed it to him and he read the whole thing before saying, “you know what this is saying to me?  This is saying you’re way out of shape and you need to lose weight.  You need to exercise.”  (He did tell me to purchase some Mucinex D, gave me a prescription for cough medicine and a z-pack and diagnosed me with bronchitis.)

He did not even consider looking further than my size.  I am fat.  I don’t deny that.  But I wonder what he would have said to a thin woman who had walked into his office with the same list of symptoms.  Would he have been so quick to say, “you’re out of shape”?  Or would he have maybe said, “we might need to do some blood work or an MRI on you”?  Or maybe even, “does anything like this run in your family?  Arthritis?  Muscle issues?”  Would he have immediately said, “you’re out of shape” to a woman who APPEARED healthy?

Having said that, I will concede that I don’t have enough movement in my life and that exercise has always made me feel better physcially and emotionally.  I will even go so far as to say I’m not as healthy as I would like to be and my choices have not always been to the betterment of my body, but STILL!!!  Those things I can change.  But what if, just what if, I were to lose all the weight that my doctor suggests and I start a healthy workout routine and STILL HAVE THESE SYMPTOMS?  Then what?

Does that mean that I could’ve been diagnosed correctly in 2009 instead of waiting until 2011 or 2012 when (or if) I lose down to the prescribed weight and continue to exercise?!?  What if I never lose the weight?  Do I remain undiagnosed and just wonder if I’m crazy and are these pains really real?

But then what if it really is all about my weight?  What if I do lose the weight and keep up a regular exercise routine?  What if my pains do actually go away once I’m down to XXX lbs?  Does that mean I won’t ever be sick with anything again?  Does being a certain weight guarantee me to be healthy?  No.

But does appearing healthy mean I might get better treatment by my physician?  Does it mean I’ll be listened to more intently?  Does it mean I won’t be pre-judged and diagnosed based on my symptoms and not my appearance?  I say yes.  Sadly, yes.

I went home after this visit with my doc and talked to my hubby about it.  He felt so badly that the doc had talked to me like that and saw every point I made.  He even suggested I go to another doctor which I very well may.  I do want to get an MRI or something on my spine because I may actually have some disk degeneration or rupture.

One would think that after a visit like this with my doc, I would sink deeper into depression but it’s actually kind of renewed my faith in myself and my own body.

Again, I’m sorry for my absence lately.

~sas

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Forgiveness and Judgment

The recent realizations I have made have led me to a rebirth of sorts.  I’m feeling new feelings and actually experiencing some self acceptance rather than just talking about it.  I’ve gotta say, it’s a great feeling!

I wanted to share with you an AHA moment I had the other morning.  (Keep in mind that my cultish religion would constantly remind me, 24/7, that I was condemned to hell and could never be good enough.)

I got out of bed like I do every morning and I went to the dog bowl and fed the dog.  I went from the dog bowl to the shower to start running the water.  I woke up still knowing that I had to release myself from these erroneous beliefs I had so entrenched in my heart.  I had not slept well because I was making all these new realizations about the pseudo-Christianity I had been raised by but I was also too excited to sleep because I had found someone online (actually several people) who had experienced exactly what I did and had been freed from the constant feeling of condemnation.  A whole new world was opening up for me.

So I’m standing in the shower and I start telling myself, “You’re forgiven.  You’re forgiven.  You’re forgiven.”  I say that over and over like other affirmations I’ve used the past few years.  And that’s when it hit me!  “Why are you even trying to convince yourself you’re forgiven when you haven’t even gotten out the door yet!  You haven’t done anything wrong!”  That’s when that giant lightbulb went off!!  That’s when I realized I was starting a new day…a new life…I had a new outlook!  I had not done one damn thing to make myself feel guilty yet I was still asking for forgiveness in that I was trying to convince myself I was forgiven. 

That’s how programmed and brainwashed I have been.  I woke up feeling guilty.  I wouldn’t step foot on the ground without feeling guilty.  What kind of life is that?  It’s a life of fear and dread.

Now some of you may ask, “why is she posting about this ‘religious’ stuff on a blog about fat acceptance and intuitive eating/living.”

I am a compulsive overeater.  I know there are fat folks out there who do not have “issues” but I am one who does.  I have issues out the wazoo and the way I’ve coped all these years has been to numb out and to avoid feelings by diverting my energy and thoughts to eating and food.  I’ve pussyfooted around this religion issue for so many years because I don’t think I’ve had the strength to really tackle it until now.  I believe that this issue with my former religion is the crux of my emotional distress and until I confront it head on I won’t be able to move forward in my recovery.

I have to take a minute here to make clear to everyone that my goal is not to lose weight…my goal is to be physically, emotionally and spiritually healthy.  I do, however, think that once I get to the core of the religion issue and free myself of the condemnation, I’ll be able to move forward in every aspect of my life.  I believe that I eat to cover the intense emotion of failure and unworthiness.  If I can get through that barrier I’ve built around myself I think I’ll be better able to truly care for myself.

My thought processes to this point have been similar to:  You’re going to hell anyway so why care what you eat or how much?  OR  Everyone thinks your worthless anyway so dig in.  OR  Your father thinks you’re a slut so build this BIG wall around your body so no one will want to touch you.  OR  If you make yourself miserable with food it can serve as your punishment for not being perfect.

So do you see now how this could be a huge breakthrough for me?  Self care and listening to my own body has been alien to me.  Someone else was always leading my thought processes.  Of course, now I’m seeing where the choice is mine on how to live my life.  I think another reason I’ve put off working on this issue is the fear of failure once again.  I’ve been led to believe that I “can’t” make the best decision for myself, that I need someone to always direct me and tell me if my decision is right.  I’ve never been led to believe that I can trust my own intuition.

So that’s why I’m talking about religion on this blog.  The number one reason is because AGR and I agreed when we first started this blog that we would use it to better ourselves and to further our recovery.  Another reason is because I see a huge correlation in the rules and judgments of my past religion to the “religion of dieting” – so many do’s and don’ts, rights and wrongs, leaving no room for human imperfection or intutiveness on the part of the individual.

I can tell you that since I’ve blogged about this particular issue, it feels as if a burden has been lifted from my heart.  I see mornings in a whole new light and see each day as a new beginning instead of a continuation of guilt from the days, months and years in my past.  My outlook on life is the best now that I believe it’s ever been.

If you’ve made it through yet another long and rambling post of mine, my thanks go out to you.  Thank you for being there with me and supporting me.

~sas

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Imprisoned by fear

Have you ever done something that hurt you physically or mentally so you didn’t do it again?  Because you knew if you did it again it would hurt again?

I have come to the realization I have done that about “movement” and because of that, I’ve become imprisoned by fear….fear of movement.

I work in our tiny little downtown area but I’m lucky enough to have a general store next door in case I need something to drink or just want to get out of the office and shop.  I decided the other day that my brain needed a rest from work so I trekked off next door and this is when I made my latest breakthrough.

I was walking across our parking lot to get to the store when I came across a curb that was put up to seperate our parking spaces.  Now, normally I would walk all the way to the street side of the parking lot to avoid this 4 to 5 inch increase in concrete but that day I decided to try to gracefully approach the curb and step onto it or over it.  I did it.  I stepped right up on that curbed and hopped down on the other side.

In the past couple of years I have suffered from back and leg pain, specifically sciatica.  It has been so bad at times that I was bed-ridden and my chiropractor made house calls to me.  The pain was so intense at times that I stayed on pain meds and thought I would never get better.  Now, granted, I still have back and leg pain but it’s so much better now than it was.

But memories of that pain….ooh, horrible memories of screaming out when I put my leg down and just trying to make it to the chiropractor’s office without passing out.  Those memories were some powerful stuff.  Those memories caused me not to take chances with movement anymore.  I stopped going to the gym (where I went regularly for about 6 months), I stopped even trying to take the stairs at work, I avoided any inclines whenever possible but declines were even worse.  Those memories played awful tricks on my mind.  I eventually told myself that I was never getting better and that I should stay as stagnant as possible.

Then came the walk next door to the store.   I walked over that curb like I had never had back pain.  The fear I had had, though logical to me, was simply something I could prove to be false.  I crossed back over that curb on the way back to the office and the next day I went down the stairs at work.  (going up hasn’t been that much of a problem)  Over the weekend I played with wonder mutt in the back yard and even ran a few steps, none the worse for wear.

Now I’m not going to say that the fear has totally subsided because I do think I’m pretty careful about how far I will go with movement…but the joy I have felt with the movement I’ve been able to emotionally chance has helped me break out of my prison of fear.  Fear is a strong emotion and can easily take over your life if you allow it to.

My hope is that you all have movement and motion in your life and if not, be gentle with yourself and just do what you can.  You know what you can do but don’t let fear rule your decisions.  (and this goes for more than just movement)

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“Because I’m hungry…dang it!”

Ok, so picture me standing here with my hands on my wide hips, speaking in an Arkansas southern drawl and saying the title of this post!  “Because I’m hungry…dang it!”  Yep, that’s really how I talk and it is totally something I NEED to say.

I’ve bitched to AGR about this for over a year I’m sure and I’m finally going to take the bull by the horns and confront my husband about this.

This is, by no means, grounds for divorce but standing my ground is in order.  A little bit of background is in order here.

I’ve been obese all my life (or so I was led to believe…looking back at pictures of me at a young age indicate I wasn’t obese at all) and my dear husband has been on the leaner side of the spectrum.  I would say he’s skinny but he would fight me to the death and say he’s not at all skinny.

A few years ago, my husband entered therapy for a porn addiction and has been going to a Sex Addicts group ever since he made the admission.  So having admitted to the addiction, seeking therapy and making some great strides towards recovery, he has done what many addicts do and he has, in a way, switched addictions.  He had gone from using porn to numb out and avoid the real issues to using food to numb and avoid the real issues.  He did gain weight and he did look different than he does now but it never caused me to consider him to less of a man or less my husband.  At any rate, he was not happy with his appearance so he took it upon himself to diet and exercise.  All along, I told him I was worried about him because he was dieting and exercising to excess (or that was my opinion anyway).  He was restricting his food and nutrient intake and he was exercising every day for a couple of hours a day.  I rarely saw him.  Instead of avoiding the issues, I sometimes thought he was avoiding me.

So yes, he did lose weight.  He didn’t get really muscular but his frame did seem to shrink and he seemed really happy with himself.  Now, a couple of years later he has gained back some of the weight.  Hmm, interesting.  He’s getting more and more disgusted when the weight won’t just melt off of him anymore.  He would never admit it but he has ruined his knees.  It just about broke his heart when his doc told him he shouldn’t run like he had been the past year or so. 

During his endeavor to lose so much weight and even now, as he tries to take it off yet again, I am the one suffering.  The thing I’ve gotten so irritated with him about has gone on far too long.  He is obsessed with sharing food with me.  He wants to share everything.  I haven’t had a steak or hamburger to myself (when I’m with him) for over a year probably. 

I realized today at lunch that I was starved…literally, gut wrenching, noises coming from within, nauseous, crabby STARVED!  I was hungry!  Seriously hungry.  Not the kind of hungry where you can eat a couple of peanut butter crackers but “feed me or I’ll bite your head off” hungry.  I wanted my own cheeseburger, tater tots with cheese and giant Coke.  I messaged my hubby at work, told him I was working through lunch and I went to our local Sonic drive in and got that cheeseburger, tater tots with cheese and humongous Coke.  No guilt, no shame…even tipped the car hop!  (It was lovely!)

I’m going to have to stand my ground the next time my husband wants to split something and tell him, “NO!  I’m hungry…dang it!!!  If you can’t eat all your meal, then pack up the left overs and take them home!”  I can’t do it anymore.  I feel such guilt when he asks me to split a meal with him…like I’m punishing him or something.  I see it the other way around…he’s punishing me or trying to control me.  He’s NOT doing me any favors by splitting my food with me.  I’m an adult.  If I can’t finish my meal, I can either take it home with me or just simply send it back.

Ooooh, the more I think about it the madder I get.  AGR, I promise you you won’t hear my gripe about my hubby doing this to me anymore.  I’m going to resolve this issue immediately.  My hunger is MY issue and his hunger is HIS issue.  AGR, thanks for being so patient with me on this subject but it will be remedied very soon.  I’m not going to pussy foot around the issue anymore.  I’m going to be very direct and assertive.  Wish me luck!

~sas

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Weight Goes Up… Weight Goes Down… Weight Goes Up…

No joke.  I haven’t dieted in forever, but my weight has never seemed to settle… and it is ANNOYING the heck out of me!  Am I the only one going through this?

I try to be patient.  I know my body has it’s reasons for gaining and losing weight.  Anti-depressants have had a lot to do with it.  Last summer, one particular AD (anti-depressant) made me lose a lot of weight.  I quit that AD, because it made me nervous (and even a bit paranoid after I had been on it for a while) and it made my throat close painfully when I was anxious.  The throat closing thing has happened to me a lot on AD’s, especially when they are also anti-anxiety.  Now I’m on another AD… this one, has made me gain a lot of weight.  It also makes me constantly sleepy and some days I feel like I could sleep all day.  Recovering from the burn-out of my previous job (that was toxic and icky) has helped with the sleepiness some, but some days it is really hard to stay upright.  It’s a shame, cuz this particular AD works really well for me in every other respect than making me super-tired a lot of the time. 

The weight going up and down thing wouldn’t but me so much, if I wasn’t constantly seeming to need new clothes in some new smaller or larger size.  Agh, it is obnoxious and I don’t have the funds to buy myself a new wardrobe every time my body decides to switch things up.  I used to throw out clothes that didn’t fit.  It was the popular recommendation in the eating disorder community not to keep around your “thin” or “fat” clothes and I wanted to do things “right.”  I’ve realized this thing isn’t right for me.  Who knows what size I will be this winter or next summer!  I need all the sizes I can keep, cuz I’m sick of replacing what got thrown out. 

Today, I have a psychiatrist appointment.  I’m going to ask to be put on the lowest dose possible of the AD I’m on currently to see if that makes the sleepiness manageable.  I’m pretty sure the doc will be okay with that as I’m already on the 2nd smallest dose possible and my depression symptoms haven’t popped up in a significant way for a long time.  For some odd reason, my taking ADD meds seem to have more to do with how depressed I’m feeling anyway.  I am one of a minority (I am told) of people who get depression relief from ADD meds.  I will be the first to say that being able to think straight really does help me not be depressed.  Being able to complete a simple thought improves my quality of life GREATLY.  Why this would be a rare reaction to ADD meds, I have no idea… seems like common sense to me.    Ah well… who knows…

Right now, our bathroom has six hampers in it, each of which are full to brimming with clothes.  We are lucky that we have a very large bathroom.  When we were both working full-time (and a lot of over-time to boot!), I couldn’t rationalize washing, drying and folding clothes that don’t fit me… nor was I going to throw clothes out that are too big or too small for me now, when I know darn well that my body could gain or lose a few sizes and I could end up regretting throwing that stuff out.  It is time to wash the clothes and I think I know what to do with them.  I will box and bag them and label them with sizes, so they will be available to me if my body changes in the future.  If I finally settle at some weight (and I mean really settle… like for more than a few months!), I will be more than happy to get rid of those things that don’t fit whether those clothes are bigger or smaller.  I don’t care.  I’m just tired of trying to find myself yet another waredrobe…

I also suspect that some of my weight fluxuations could have something to do with eating disorder recovery.  Who knows what I’ve done to my metabolism or what it needs to go through to heal and all that…

Has anyone else been here… ya know… practicing IE and HAES and eating well and what my body wants and all that, but still weight yoyoing? 

Honestly, it has taken me more than a little fortitude to be able to recognize (and post about) the fact that one’s weight going up and down is associated with all sorts of health problems, when my weight has been doing this my whole life.  My weight used to go up and down according to my eating disorder… but now, I’m living a really great life (and a healthy one!) and yet my weight is still all over the map.  I keep reminding myself that I’m doing the best I can and that no one could ask for more from me… and maybe if I post about my experiences, other people in similar boats will realize they’re not alone. 

Maybe I’ll luck out and stabilize this year or next year… it would be nice to be able to wear the same clothes two years in a row…

–AngryGrayRainbows

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