The May 4th Voices of Recovery quotes The Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions of Overeaters Anonymous: "All who have experienced the pain of compulsive eating and want to stop are equally welcome here." It goes on to tell the story of a woman who came to the meetings fighting the program. "I had no desire to refrain from compulsively eating. Instead, I wanted to diet. I did not take the suggestions seriously. Tradition Three illustrates the reason for my inability to grasp this program. I wanted the weight loss and even the pleasure of it without having to earn it first. Today when I watch newcomers struggle with the program as I did, I try to show the same compassion and acceptance as those before me."
I remember my first day in Overeaters Anonymous. I came into the rooms believing that I didn't need the program - I was fine. When the woman who shared told my own story, I was shocked. But I decided to sign up. She'd lost all her weight so clearly whatever these people were selling worked. I asked her to sponsor me at break and felt I had put a check in the box to have them wave the magic wand that would fix me.
She told me to read from the Big Book, and I read Bill's Story and put the book down again. Not only did I not relate to the story, but I figured that all the Big Book contained was a collection of people's stories. Why would I bother reading about a bunch of alcoholics when I could sit in a meeting and hear people tell me about their own stories of recovery - and on topic, too!. I was already sold on the program, just get to the good stuff!
That sponsor told me to write down three things I loved about myself every day. I thought it was the dumbest assignment in the world. And yet when I sat down that night I couldn't think of a single thing. Everything I loved had a "yeah, but. . ." attached to it that was a disqualifying factor. I eventually found myself on the phone with another woman I'd met in meeting, sobbing because I couldn't find anything to love about myself.
Eventually I was able to identify a few items - I have a set of freckles on my leg that looks like a happy face; I always have a flower painted on my big-toenails; and I have three freckles on my foot that make a straight line. Each night I came up with three new things - sometimes it was that I loved a dish I cooked, other times it was that I loved knowing how to knit. But each time I failed to understand what the point of this exercise was.
Every time I asked that sponsor why we were bothering with this (get on with the wand waving, already!) she told me we were working on my first step. She asked me to identify trigger foods, so I started cutting out things like soda and coffee. Eventually my "abstinence" was to not eat French fries, doughnuts, or drink coffee and soda. Yet I still binged on sweets and snack foods to my heart's content. So after three months I decided I was wasting my time and left program.
When I came back I decided I could do it on my own. For the first two months back in the rooms I was back to my original "abstinence" - still binging away - and I decided that I could identify my own trigger foods. Since my first sponsor didn't "do anything" for me, I'd sponsor myself!
But through this all, I was just as clueless as that woman was. I wanted the results without the work. I didn't want to surrender to another person. I didn't want to work the steps. I didn't want to change my life. I just wanted the magical fix.
But there is no magical fix. There is a miraculous one - but that requires work to attain.
It wasn't until after I'd gotten another sponsor, surrendered, and gone through my first step that I learned what my first sponsor was doing: she was trying to show me that my life was unmanageable. She was waiting for me to notice just how hard it was for me to find things I loved about myself, and she was waiting for the light bulb to click that maybe, just maybe, whatever it was I was doing to run my life wasn't working. But because I never left the disease, I never was able to see what she was trying to show me.
Today's reading was a good reminder of just how much I struggled as a newcomer, and just how much I need to show compassion to those still suffering from compulsive overeating.
Showing posts with label The Crazy Life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label The Crazy Life. Show all posts
Sunday, May 4, 2014
Tuesday, March 25, 2014
Life Without Disease-Ridden Thinking
Today's For Today Workbook posed the question "What would my life be like if I let my Higher Power free me completely from compulsive eating and disease-ridden thinking?"
I laughed when I read this, because I had just spent the previous hour writing a long email to my boyfriend explaining my thoughts and reactions to a long conversation we had discussing our relationship, where it was going, and what his concerns were going forward. Among those concerns was the idea that I have a lot of chaos in my life.
I wanted to laugh in his face and tell him what my life was like before program. If he wanted to see real chaos he should have met me then. But this prompt came up in my workbook and I smiled. Because it is precisely that disease-ridden thinking that means I have to put those thoughts into an email rather than tell him. I get too distracted in person and go off topic. But in an email I can organize my thoughts and prevent the rambling.
But the thing that struck me the most about this was just how much of the mental acrobatics I could avoid if I let go of my diseased thinking. My thoughts wouldn't be turned on whether I was good enough or what someone else thinks of me. I wouldn't need to stop myself to give the gentle reminder that other people's opinion of me is none of my business. I wouldn't need to stop myself from going down a spiral of diseased thoughts when life throws me an unexpected curve ball.
I think that the best answer is to pray for my Higher Power to give me the willingness to let the diseased thinking go. When I ask for relief when that diseased thinking strikes, I find I receive it very quickly. I don't know that I'll ever reach a point where I won't have the diseased thinking. Thankfully I do have tools to help me reduce the impact those thoughts have on my life. So for today I'll aim for progress, not perfection, and hope for the best!
I laughed when I read this, because I had just spent the previous hour writing a long email to my boyfriend explaining my thoughts and reactions to a long conversation we had discussing our relationship, where it was going, and what his concerns were going forward. Among those concerns was the idea that I have a lot of chaos in my life.
I wanted to laugh in his face and tell him what my life was like before program. If he wanted to see real chaos he should have met me then. But this prompt came up in my workbook and I smiled. Because it is precisely that disease-ridden thinking that means I have to put those thoughts into an email rather than tell him. I get too distracted in person and go off topic. But in an email I can organize my thoughts and prevent the rambling.
But the thing that struck me the most about this was just how much of the mental acrobatics I could avoid if I let go of my diseased thinking. My thoughts wouldn't be turned on whether I was good enough or what someone else thinks of me. I wouldn't need to stop myself to give the gentle reminder that other people's opinion of me is none of my business. I wouldn't need to stop myself from going down a spiral of diseased thoughts when life throws me an unexpected curve ball.
I think that the best answer is to pray for my Higher Power to give me the willingness to let the diseased thinking go. When I ask for relief when that diseased thinking strikes, I find I receive it very quickly. I don't know that I'll ever reach a point where I won't have the diseased thinking. Thankfully I do have tools to help me reduce the impact those thoughts have on my life. So for today I'll aim for progress, not perfection, and hope for the best!
Sunday, September 29, 2013
12 Steps to Total and Complete Insanity
[A spoof on the 12 Steps of Alcoholics Anonymous. . .and oh so true!]
- We admitted we were powerless over nothing. We could manage our lives perfectly and we could manage those of anyone else that would allow it.
- Came to believe that there was no power greater than ourselves, and the rest of the world was insane.
- Made a decision to have our loved ones and friends turn their wills and their lives over to our care.
- Made a searching and fearless moral inventory of everyone we knew.
- Admitted to the whole world at large the exact nature of their wrongs.
- Were entirely ready to make others straighten up and do right.
- Demanded others to either "shape up or ship out".
- Made a list of anyone who had ever harmed us and became willing to go to any lengths to get even with them all.
- Got direct revenge on such people whenever possible except when to do so would cost us our own lives, or at the very least, a jail sentence.
- Continued to take inventory of others, and when they were wrong promptly and repeatedly told them about it.
- Sought through nagging to improve our relations with others as we couldn't understand them at all, asking only that they knuckle under and do things our way.
- Having had a complete physical, emotional and spiritual breakdown as a result of these steps, we tried to blame it on others and to get sympathy and pity in all our affairs.
From The ACA Communicator - March 1990 - Omaha, Council Bluffs Area Intergroup
Tuesday, June 11, 2013
Unpleasant Moments
Said every compulsive overeater, ever. . .
Tuesday, February 26, 2013
First Bite
Today I wanted to eat those little sugary frosted cookies they sell in the grocery stores for holidays. They are this beautiful floury sugary mush and I love them. It started when thinking of St. Patrick's Day and why we'd need a meeting marathon for that holiday. Then I thought of the cookies. And damn it I wanted one. Badly. I still want one and it's been 7 hours.
I tried all kinds of rationalizing. I said to myself, "[My Sponsor] doesn't need to know if I just ate one cookie. Or not even a full cookie but just a BITE of the cookie. That would be fine. Oh, and you know, I probably could manage one box of them without it impacting anything. The next day I'd be right back on the food plan and no one would need to be the wiser. I could just eat the cookies in the parking lot of the grocery store, toss the carton, toss the receipt, and no one would ever know."
Then that fucker who doesn't want me to enjoy a beautiful box of green frosted shamrock shaped cookies thought, "but that wouldn't be rigorous honesty, and rigorous honesty is how we got to peace." It then went on to remind me how happy I have felt lately. How much energy I have had to do chores and be attentive and playful with my son.
So I thought, "you know, I can just close my eyes and remember how they tasted and felt in my mouth. They can't take that away from me." [Because, you know, everyone in OA is conspiring against me and my cookies.] But it wasn't enough. I just wanted one bite of cookie. That was all I needed and I'd throw the box away, scout's honor. [Which is especially convenient since I was never a Girl Scout.]
And I had to go to the grocery store to pick up my husband's medicine. I thought, "I bet they don't even have those cookies yet. It's still February. They won't have them until March. I will just go and check and prove to myself that they aren't even there."
Well God was on my side today. [One of my daily outreach calls] felt bad we hadn't talked in a few days so she called me as I was in the car on the way to get my husband's medicine. I made it a point to stay on the phone with her the entire time I was in the store. Because I know if I see the cookies I'll buy them. If I take one bite of that cookie, I'd eat the whole box. Then I would raid the candy aisle. I saw the Starburst licorice sticks today and they looked amazing. I'd eat those next. Then some Mike & Ikes - I miss those. Then I'd keep grazing on sugar until I made myself ill. Ooh, then I'd hit the doughnuts and maybe get some more cookies. And I'd top it off with some garlic bread or maybe just get a whole big sourdough loaf thing and eat it with oil and balsamic vinegar. And Ding Dongs. I'd have to eat a box or two of those.
So really, I think it's easier to just not eat that first bite of cookie.
Tuesday, February 12, 2013
Step One, Question 1, Page 1
I think it's time I take the plunge and start writing on the first question in the workbook. It has been sitting on my desk, open to that page, for weeks. I will begin working the steps with my sponsor this week and I have some time before bed to do a bit of work, so here goes nothing (or perhaps, everything)!
1. "In OA we are encouraged to take a good look at our compulsive eating, obesity, and the self-destructive things we have done to avoid obesity - the dieting, starving, over-exercising, or purging." Here is a First-Step inventory of my compulsive eating history.
A lot of my early compulsive eating is blurred by the haze of the sugar high. Or perhaps I should say "glaze". I remember not being allowed sweets because my mom was worried about my weight. It wasn't consistently enforced, though. It was like her own warring opinions on whether she could eat sweets spilled over into what she permitted me to eat. But here are a few compulsive overeating memories:
I would sneak into the pantry when people were busy/sleeping/away to steal food. My favorites were fruit snacks and granola bars. The best was the "Fruit O's" from Costco - fruit snacks in a huge container from Costco. I knew I could take one or two of those a day without being caught. Granola bars were another love, but I knew I had to take those slow. I would take one bar a day. There was a very strict order to how I ate my closet foods: 2 Fruit O's, 1 granola bar, 1 of this, 1 of that. It depended on what we had at the time. Gold fish had to be smuggled one handful at a time. If the container went missing I would get caught and I'd either get lectured or in actual trouble. The number of items became just as important as the theft of the food and it's consumption. No matter how much or how often I smuggled, I always wanted more. It called to me and I craved it, but I knew I had to wait until the next day or they'd notice the food was disappearing too fast. Thankfully my brother was assumed to be the one doing the eating. Eventually he hid the food in his room to keep me out, which upped the stakes. I only could sneak in maybe once a week to get the food then. Even now, when I go to fast food restaurants, I find that I get a list of foods I want: 1 of A, 1 of B, 1 of C, 1 of D - the ordering of the food is part of the ritual, even when I ordered far more than I could possibly consume.
I remember being excited about the food come the holidays. It was the one day I knew my mom wouldn't chase me about how much I ate - until the car ride home when both parents would scold me in front of my brother. I would make the obligatory round of hugs and then settle next to the appetizer table. I would eat non-stop until dinner. Then I'd eat a plate of two of food at dinner, maybe sneak back for more appetizers. Then I'd get one of everything offered for desert, after I snuck in plenty of cookies, fudge, and whatever else was sitting out for deserts. The sad truth is: I can't remember much about the holidays other than eating and hoping my parents weren't watching how much I was putting into my mouth and body.
In elementary school I used to offer to put anything people wanted to give me into my yogurt to eat it. I wanted the food, so even if they put tuna salad in my cherry yogurt, I'd take it. Mostly it was things like Oreo cookies [yum] or half eaten sandwiches. I ate anything people wanted to throw out. I never fished in the school trash cans [although I did in the kitchen trash can at home] but I was a mini garbage disposal for anything and everything no one wanted. My friends eventually started bringing extra food for me.
In college I remember thinking constantly about food. Classes were the things I did between meal times. I loved the cafeterias because I could get as many plates as I wanted, and if I went alone I didn't have to worry about anyone following me. Mostly I didn't think about people watching me eat then. I was out of the sight of my parents, which to me meant I was out of the sight of everyone. I frequented the vending machines in my building - I think I stopped on the way to and from every class for something, usually those little doughnuts. Once I had a car, my food adventures were usually in the form of 4 or 5 large meals a day at fast food as well as the dining halls. I went every Tuesday to a Thai food restaurant where I ate until the point of pain. I also always had snacks in my room to nibble on between meals. This part is a bit fuzzy, because I didn't pay a lot of attention to what I was eating when. I have always been a grazer so I had meals I paid attention to, and meals where I just grazed along without paying attention to what I was eating.
In grad school I think I lived on pizza, sub sandwiches and chips, and fast food (including an awesome fast food Italian restaurant that had cheese covered baked lasagna that I would eat with garlic bread sticks - carbheaven hell.) I ate huge quantities of food, including in the middle of the night while studying. I would go to IHOP, order 2 or 3 meals and eat it all before I left.
After grad school I got the gastric bypass stomach surgery, which severely limited my ability to binge. They literally sewed off part of my stomach and rerouted my intestines. So once I was recovered enough to eat normal foods, I would still go to the restaurants and order all my food. The ritual was still in place. I just ended up throwing out most of it. I would eat a bite or two of everything and make myself ill, but I would do my best. I often grazed on my meal all day long - one monstrous breakfast-lunch-dinner mishmash of a meal. Eventually I managed to eat back on most of my weight since there was nothing that caused the infamous "dumping syndrome" for me.
When I joined OA, I had gained back some - but not all - of my gastric bypass weight loss. I gave up certain "trigger foods" but binged freely on the others. It was retaliatory binging. I took away french fries? Then doughnuts it was! I took out doughnuts next, then I went to those little fruit-jelly filled pies and cookies. Eventually I gave up and went back to before. Then I came back and tried it again - with the same results as before. Before I started with my current sponsor I had a two week long binge that was pure hell [described here]. And I haven't compulsively overeaten since.
Now to move on to the memories involving restricting/anorexia/bulimia:
These three were always lumped together for me. I remember in second or third grade hearing my mom talk about how she dieted as a kid: hard boiled egg for breakfast, and she kept lunch and dinner each under 200 calories. So I did the same. It stunted my growth and I stopped growing at age 10.
In sixth grade I started the anorexia. I would skip every meal I could get away with. It was not that hard to get away with: I would tell friends that I was eating at home, and family that I ate with friends. No one paid attention to what I ate at school, so I didn't have to worry there. Sometimes I ate at school because I liked the food, but it depended on the day. I think it got bad when I was between sixth and seventh grade, actually. During the summer months. When I had to eat dinner with my family, I'd squirrel the food into my cheeks and spit it out into napkins [because I wasn't smart enough to think that people would notice]. I just pretended it was gristle. My mom wasn't inclined to feed me sweets, so that was never a problem. When I couldn't get away with the gristle ruse, I'd rush to the bathroom and spit out the food in my squirrel cheeks. My parents obviously knew what was going on but chose to do nothing about it. Eventually my friends at school held me down at lunch time and force fed me. Once I was eating it seemed that this phase of my life had ended.
Bulimia became something that popped up intermittently with my binges. I can't really remember much about the bulimia, except that it took me a while to figure out how to make me puke since my gag reflex isn't very sensitive. After my weight loss surgery I was lucky that as soon as I overate I would need to vomit. So the purge just took a few extra bites of food and out it would come. I often used that route to get more food, but sometimes it was a way to clear the binge.
Eventually I would alternate as an adult between binge, purge, and restricting days.
Compulsive exercising hit me around eighth grade. I wanted to be skinny so I signed up for every sport my school offered, including cross country. Later I ran for the love of running, but at first it was all about the burning of calories. In grad school I exercised five to seven days a week as a means of telling myself that I was working on my weight and clearly it wasn't my fault that I was fat.
I can honestly say I've tried just about every diet over the years: calorie counting, Jenny Craig, Weight Watchers, South Beach, Atkins, HMR, Liquid Only, Slim Fast, Lean Cuisine, not eating after 6/8/10pm, skipping breakfast, eating no breads, eating no dairy, eating no red meat, vegetarian, alcohol only, eating no pasta, eating no snacks, eating five small meals, etc.
1. "In OA we are encouraged to take a good look at our compulsive eating, obesity, and the self-destructive things we have done to avoid obesity - the dieting, starving, over-exercising, or purging." Here is a First-Step inventory of my compulsive eating history.
A lot of my early compulsive eating is blurred by the haze of the sugar high. Or perhaps I should say "glaze". I remember not being allowed sweets because my mom was worried about my weight. It wasn't consistently enforced, though. It was like her own warring opinions on whether she could eat sweets spilled over into what she permitted me to eat. But here are a few compulsive overeating memories:
I would sneak into the pantry when people were busy/sleeping/away to steal food. My favorites were fruit snacks and granola bars. The best was the "Fruit O's" from Costco - fruit snacks in a huge container from Costco. I knew I could take one or two of those a day without being caught. Granola bars were another love, but I knew I had to take those slow. I would take one bar a day. There was a very strict order to how I ate my closet foods: 2 Fruit O's, 1 granola bar, 1 of this, 1 of that. It depended on what we had at the time. Gold fish had to be smuggled one handful at a time. If the container went missing I would get caught and I'd either get lectured or in actual trouble. The number of items became just as important as the theft of the food and it's consumption. No matter how much or how often I smuggled, I always wanted more. It called to me and I craved it, but I knew I had to wait until the next day or they'd notice the food was disappearing too fast. Thankfully my brother was assumed to be the one doing the eating. Eventually he hid the food in his room to keep me out, which upped the stakes. I only could sneak in maybe once a week to get the food then. Even now, when I go to fast food restaurants, I find that I get a list of foods I want: 1 of A, 1 of B, 1 of C, 1 of D - the ordering of the food is part of the ritual, even when I ordered far more than I could possibly consume.
I remember being excited about the food come the holidays. It was the one day I knew my mom wouldn't chase me about how much I ate - until the car ride home when both parents would scold me in front of my brother. I would make the obligatory round of hugs and then settle next to the appetizer table. I would eat non-stop until dinner. Then I'd eat a plate of two of food at dinner, maybe sneak back for more appetizers. Then I'd get one of everything offered for desert, after I snuck in plenty of cookies, fudge, and whatever else was sitting out for deserts. The sad truth is: I can't remember much about the holidays other than eating and hoping my parents weren't watching how much I was putting into my mouth and body.
In elementary school I used to offer to put anything people wanted to give me into my yogurt to eat it. I wanted the food, so even if they put tuna salad in my cherry yogurt, I'd take it. Mostly it was things like Oreo cookies [yum] or half eaten sandwiches. I ate anything people wanted to throw out. I never fished in the school trash cans [although I did in the kitchen trash can at home] but I was a mini garbage disposal for anything and everything no one wanted. My friends eventually started bringing extra food for me.
In college I remember thinking constantly about food. Classes were the things I did between meal times. I loved the cafeterias because I could get as many plates as I wanted, and if I went alone I didn't have to worry about anyone following me. Mostly I didn't think about people watching me eat then. I was out of the sight of my parents, which to me meant I was out of the sight of everyone. I frequented the vending machines in my building - I think I stopped on the way to and from every class for something, usually those little doughnuts. Once I had a car, my food adventures were usually in the form of 4 or 5 large meals a day at fast food as well as the dining halls. I went every Tuesday to a Thai food restaurant where I ate until the point of pain. I also always had snacks in my room to nibble on between meals. This part is a bit fuzzy, because I didn't pay a lot of attention to what I was eating when. I have always been a grazer so I had meals I paid attention to, and meals where I just grazed along without paying attention to what I was eating.
In grad school I think I lived on pizza, sub sandwiches and chips, and fast food (including an awesome fast food Italian restaurant that had cheese covered baked lasagna that I would eat with garlic bread sticks - carb
After grad school I got the gastric bypass stomach surgery, which severely limited my ability to binge. They literally sewed off part of my stomach and rerouted my intestines. So once I was recovered enough to eat normal foods, I would still go to the restaurants and order all my food. The ritual was still in place. I just ended up throwing out most of it. I would eat a bite or two of everything and make myself ill, but I would do my best. I often grazed on my meal all day long - one monstrous breakfast-lunch-dinner mishmash of a meal. Eventually I managed to eat back on most of my weight since there was nothing that caused the infamous "dumping syndrome" for me.
When I joined OA, I had gained back some - but not all - of my gastric bypass weight loss. I gave up certain "trigger foods" but binged freely on the others. It was retaliatory binging. I took away french fries? Then doughnuts it was! I took out doughnuts next, then I went to those little fruit-jelly filled pies and cookies. Eventually I gave up and went back to before. Then I came back and tried it again - with the same results as before. Before I started with my current sponsor I had a two week long binge that was pure hell [described here]. And I haven't compulsively overeaten since.
Now to move on to the memories involving restricting/anorexia/bulimia:
These three were always lumped together for me. I remember in second or third grade hearing my mom talk about how she dieted as a kid: hard boiled egg for breakfast, and she kept lunch and dinner each under 200 calories. So I did the same. It stunted my growth and I stopped growing at age 10.
In sixth grade I started the anorexia. I would skip every meal I could get away with. It was not that hard to get away with: I would tell friends that I was eating at home, and family that I ate with friends. No one paid attention to what I ate at school, so I didn't have to worry there. Sometimes I ate at school because I liked the food, but it depended on the day. I think it got bad when I was between sixth and seventh grade, actually. During the summer months. When I had to eat dinner with my family, I'd squirrel the food into my cheeks and spit it out into napkins [because I wasn't smart enough to think that people would notice]. I just pretended it was gristle. My mom wasn't inclined to feed me sweets, so that was never a problem. When I couldn't get away with the gristle ruse, I'd rush to the bathroom and spit out the food in my squirrel cheeks. My parents obviously knew what was going on but chose to do nothing about it. Eventually my friends at school held me down at lunch time and force fed me. Once I was eating it seemed that this phase of my life had ended.
Bulimia became something that popped up intermittently with my binges. I can't really remember much about the bulimia, except that it took me a while to figure out how to make me puke since my gag reflex isn't very sensitive. After my weight loss surgery I was lucky that as soon as I overate I would need to vomit. So the purge just took a few extra bites of food and out it would come. I often used that route to get more food, but sometimes it was a way to clear the binge.
Eventually I would alternate as an adult between binge, purge, and restricting days.
Compulsive exercising hit me around eighth grade. I wanted to be skinny so I signed up for every sport my school offered, including cross country. Later I ran for the love of running, but at first it was all about the burning of calories. In grad school I exercised five to seven days a week as a means of telling myself that I was working on my weight and clearly it wasn't my fault that I was fat.
I can honestly say I've tried just about every diet over the years: calorie counting, Jenny Craig, Weight Watchers, South Beach, Atkins, HMR, Liquid Only, Slim Fast, Lean Cuisine, not eating after 6/8/10pm, skipping breakfast, eating no breads, eating no dairy, eating no red meat, vegetarian, alcohol only, eating no pasta, eating no snacks, eating five small meals, etc.
Friday, February 8, 2013
The Disease of More
"'When you eat one, you want more,
then two, then three, then pretty soon four.'" - A New Beginning, page 4
I heard at meeting once that we are suffering from a disease of more. We want more food, more happiness, more attention, more perfection, more love, more respect, more more more. But one thing I desperately wanted more of was peace and serenity, and I knew that there was no way for me to reconcile that desire with the desire for more food. So the food had to go. But that was easier said than done!
One of the biggest impediments to my abstinence, however, was always the fact that I could see others eat sugar and fast food and pizza and all those other things I loved with impunity. But Dr. Bob worded it best: "I used to get terribly upset when I saw my friends [eat junk food] and knew I could not, but I schooled myself to believe that though I once had the same privilege, I had abused it so frightfully that it was withdrawn. So it doesn't behoove me to squawk about it for, after all, nobody ever had to throw me down and pour [sugar] down my throat." - The Big Book, page 181 (Dr. Bob's Nightmare)
then two, then three, then pretty soon four.'" - A New Beginning, page 4
I heard at meeting once that we are suffering from a disease of more. We want more food, more happiness, more attention, more perfection, more love, more respect, more more more. But one thing I desperately wanted more of was peace and serenity, and I knew that there was no way for me to reconcile that desire with the desire for more food. So the food had to go. But that was easier said than done!
One of the biggest impediments to my abstinence, however, was always the fact that I could see others eat sugar and fast food and pizza and all those other things I loved with impunity. But Dr. Bob worded it best: "I used to get terribly upset when I saw my friends [eat junk food] and knew I could not, but I schooled myself to believe that though I once had the same privilege, I had abused it so frightfully that it was withdrawn. So it doesn't behoove me to squawk about it for, after all, nobody ever had to throw me down and pour [sugar] down my throat." - The Big Book, page 181 (Dr. Bob's Nightmare)
Tuesday, February 5, 2013
A Conversation With My Disease
Disease: Your addiction is much worse than that of the alcoholic! You can live without alcohol, but not without food!
Me: You can live without alcoholic foods like flour and sugar, too. You can live without flour and sugar, but not without fluids to drink!
Disease: But flour and sugar are so much more pervasive than alcohol!
Me: Are you sure about that? How many social events do you go to where there are no alcoholic beverages? That toast at midnight on New Years Eve. Wine or beer with Thanksgiving dinner. Eggnog or mulled wine for Christmas. Going out for drinks with coworkers. Going to the bar to celebrate a promotion. All of those things involve alcohol. You can't even go out to dinner without having the drink menu being offered to you.
Disease: Yeah, I guess that's true. But people really push when you don't want to eat sugar or flour foods! They don't understand that you can't have them.
Me: They push when you don't want to drink too.
Disease: So maybe I'm not so different from the alcoholic, but I certainly am different from the narcotic addict! Their fix isn't even legal!
Me: That is true, but what about prescription medicine?
Disease: What about it?
Me: Narcotic addicts are going to need aspirin, antibiotics, and cold medicine just like the rest of us. Some of these medicines they are going to need to live every much as we need food to live. They need to learn to take their medications at proper intervals just like we need to learn to take meals at proper intervals.
Disease: I don't think that's the same thing at all!
Me: Are you sure about that? Once we have taken out the alcoholic foods from our meal plans, we need to focus on taking our food at proper intervals. Like us, now that the narcotics addict has taken out the illegal narcotics from their lives, they need to focus on learning to take pharmaceuticals at proper intervals. It seems like a pretty clear connection to me!
Disease: Fine. You win for now. I'm going to sit in the corner petulantly until you aren't paying attention again. Then you better watch out, because I'm going to catch you when you least expect it!
Me: My Higher Power and I will see you then.
Me: You can live without alcoholic foods like flour and sugar, too. You can live without flour and sugar, but not without fluids to drink!
Disease: But flour and sugar are so much more pervasive than alcohol!
Me: Are you sure about that? How many social events do you go to where there are no alcoholic beverages? That toast at midnight on New Years Eve. Wine or beer with Thanksgiving dinner. Eggnog or mulled wine for Christmas. Going out for drinks with coworkers. Going to the bar to celebrate a promotion. All of those things involve alcohol. You can't even go out to dinner without having the drink menu being offered to you.
Disease: Yeah, I guess that's true. But people really push when you don't want to eat sugar or flour foods! They don't understand that you can't have them.
Me: They push when you don't want to drink too.
Disease: So maybe I'm not so different from the alcoholic, but I certainly am different from the narcotic addict! Their fix isn't even legal!
Me: That is true, but what about prescription medicine?
Disease: What about it?
Me: Narcotic addicts are going to need aspirin, antibiotics, and cold medicine just like the rest of us. Some of these medicines they are going to need to live every much as we need food to live. They need to learn to take their medications at proper intervals just like we need to learn to take meals at proper intervals.
Disease: I don't think that's the same thing at all!
Me: Are you sure about that? Once we have taken out the alcoholic foods from our meal plans, we need to focus on taking our food at proper intervals. Like us, now that the narcotics addict has taken out the illegal narcotics from their lives, they need to focus on learning to take pharmaceuticals at proper intervals. It seems like a pretty clear connection to me!
Disease: Fine. You win for now. I'm going to sit in the corner petulantly until you aren't paying attention again. Then you better watch out, because I'm going to catch you when you least expect it!
Me: My Higher Power and I will see you then.
Monday, February 4, 2013
That First Step's A Doozie
The speaker at my meeting this evening talked a lot about the steps. He expressed something that resonated with me: he couldn't start the program until he was willing to take the first step. Of course, he was referring to the actual First Step: We admitted we were powerless over food - that our lives had become unmanageable.
While in a step study meeting focused on the Sixth Step (were entirely ready to have God remove all these defects of character), one speaker stated that we are always ready to have the consequences of our defects removed if not the defect itself. We cling to our defects like treasured friends. So too do we cling to the notion that we are not compulsive overeaters. We may want to have the symptom removed - our excess weight - but we are often not ready to admit that the excess weight was brought on by our powerlessness over food.
I have heard the road to recovery begins when you take that step into the door of your first meeting. But the fact remains that recovery simply will not happen until you are able to admit that there is something you need to recover from. As the Big Book says, "Some of us have tried to hold on to our old ideas and the result was nil until we let go absolutely." (Page 58)
I walked into my first meeting to be moral support for a friend. A very clever friend who knew exactly what I was even if I didn't know it myself. At the end of the meeting, I was able to declare with absolute certainty that I was a compulsive overeater. I marched up to the speaker and asked her to be my sponsor that very same meeting.
The problem was, I didn't necessarily believe that I was powerless over food, and I most certainly didn't believe that my life was unmanageable! I had done quite well for myself - or so I believed. All I needed was someone to help me with a food plan and to give me accountability. Then I would lose my weight, keep following my food plan, and not need to worry about silly things like meetings. You see, I had it all figured out.
Every time I asked my sponsor when we would start doing step work, she would tell me that we were: we were working on the first step. I would protest, "but I already admitted I was a compulsive overeater." She would just smile and tell me to trust her. So for months I was performing exercises designed to show me that my life was unmanageable. I just didn't realize that was what we were doing.
The exercise that caused me the most pain and suffering was so innocuous that I never suspected what I was in for. I was told to perform one simple task: write down three things you love about yourself every day. I rolled my eyes at this task, but when I sat down that first night to write down my three things I was in a quandary. I couldn't think of a single one! So I tried to go through my laundry list of achievements. But no matter what achievement I looked at, I found a way in which it wasn't good enough. I should have done better. In the hour I sat there, I turned every last accomplishment I'd ever had into a personal failure, right down to my first place trophy for my seventh grade basketball team's undefeated season. (Yes, I was digging that deep to find something to be proud of that I could love about myself.) After running out of accomplishments, I then went to tear down every aspect of my physical appearance, from my wild curly brown hair to my big ugly feet.
That was the moment I made my first outreach call to a woman named Diane. Looking back I almost feel sorry for that poor woman. As soon as I verified who I was speaking with I broke down into a loud wailing sob and announced "I don't love anything about myself!" It is to her credit that she didn't even miss a beat. I can't remember what she said that day, but it was apparently exactly what I needed to hear. After getting off the phone I sat down and came up with my three things I loved about myself. 1) My purple sparkly toenails (I usually have my toes painted). 2) The three freckles on my left foot that form a straight line diagonally across my foot. 3) The way my wrists pop and I can make little popping sound music with them. The next day, the cluster of freckles on my right leg that look like they could make a smiley face if you connected the dots was at the top of my list. Of all my accomplishments, these were the things that I could identify as something I loved about myself.
Not once during the time with my first sponsor did I ever reach a point where something about my personality or my accomplishments was found on that list. Yet still, I didn't see that my life was unmanageable. I left program ten pounds lighter but no better off emotionally. I got married. Had a baby. Lost the baby weight while nursing. Then within a matter of months gained almost all of it back. To put this in perspective, I weighed 230 when I got pregnant. I weighed 290 when I gave birth. I weighed 220 when I stopped nursing 6 months later, and 250 when I went back to OA 3 months later after having been completely incapable of keeping that weight from coming back.
Yet still, I wasn't ready to let go. I thought to work the program on my own, and for two months I was able to maintain a personal abstinence while not getting any healthier mentally or emotionally and while only losing five pounds. I realized I had to do something. So I sought out my current sponsor and asked her to take me on. As I discussed in my earlier post (here), I allowed myself to go off the deep end.
I can remember the exact moment that I realized both my powerlessness and the unmanageableness of my life. My husband and I were in Honolulu. We had just eaten dinner and were walking back to our hotel. I was quite full, but we had discussed getting Coldstones on the way back from dinner. I didn't really want the ice cream, but seeing as how we'd already said we were going to get some I didn't feel up to backing out. So I walked into the store not wanting the ice cream. I ordered the ice cream - and not the smallest size either - thinking I would rather not have the ice cream. Then, I proceeded to finish that ice cream while still thinking I don't want this. I didn't enjoy the ice cream, I didn't want it, but I couldn't stop myself. I ate it anyway.
That night I stared up at the ceiling, unable to sleep, and thought. The middle of the night is a terrible time to be alone with my brain. I realized that I was going to die unless I could find some way to stop eating. As the Big Book words it, I was finally licked. That night I waved the white flag and knew hopelessness and despair like I had never experienced before.
I had finally taken the first step.
While in a step study meeting focused on the Sixth Step (were entirely ready to have God remove all these defects of character), one speaker stated that we are always ready to have the consequences of our defects removed if not the defect itself. We cling to our defects like treasured friends. So too do we cling to the notion that we are not compulsive overeaters. We may want to have the symptom removed - our excess weight - but we are often not ready to admit that the excess weight was brought on by our powerlessness over food.
I have heard the road to recovery begins when you take that step into the door of your first meeting. But the fact remains that recovery simply will not happen until you are able to admit that there is something you need to recover from. As the Big Book says, "Some of us have tried to hold on to our old ideas and the result was nil until we let go absolutely." (Page 58)
I walked into my first meeting to be moral support for a friend. A very clever friend who knew exactly what I was even if I didn't know it myself. At the end of the meeting, I was able to declare with absolute certainty that I was a compulsive overeater. I marched up to the speaker and asked her to be my sponsor that very same meeting.
The problem was, I didn't necessarily believe that I was powerless over food, and I most certainly didn't believe that my life was unmanageable! I had done quite well for myself - or so I believed. All I needed was someone to help me with a food plan and to give me accountability. Then I would lose my weight, keep following my food plan, and not need to worry about silly things like meetings. You see, I had it all figured out.
Every time I asked my sponsor when we would start doing step work, she would tell me that we were: we were working on the first step. I would protest, "but I already admitted I was a compulsive overeater." She would just smile and tell me to trust her. So for months I was performing exercises designed to show me that my life was unmanageable. I just didn't realize that was what we were doing.
The exercise that caused me the most pain and suffering was so innocuous that I never suspected what I was in for. I was told to perform one simple task: write down three things you love about yourself every day. I rolled my eyes at this task, but when I sat down that first night to write down my three things I was in a quandary. I couldn't think of a single one! So I tried to go through my laundry list of achievements. But no matter what achievement I looked at, I found a way in which it wasn't good enough. I should have done better. In the hour I sat there, I turned every last accomplishment I'd ever had into a personal failure, right down to my first place trophy for my seventh grade basketball team's undefeated season. (Yes, I was digging that deep to find something to be proud of that I could love about myself.) After running out of accomplishments, I then went to tear down every aspect of my physical appearance, from my wild curly brown hair to my big ugly feet.
That was the moment I made my first outreach call to a woman named Diane. Looking back I almost feel sorry for that poor woman. As soon as I verified who I was speaking with I broke down into a loud wailing sob and announced "I don't love anything about myself!" It is to her credit that she didn't even miss a beat. I can't remember what she said that day, but it was apparently exactly what I needed to hear. After getting off the phone I sat down and came up with my three things I loved about myself. 1) My purple sparkly toenails (I usually have my toes painted). 2) The three freckles on my left foot that form a straight line diagonally across my foot. 3) The way my wrists pop and I can make little popping sound music with them. The next day, the cluster of freckles on my right leg that look like they could make a smiley face if you connected the dots was at the top of my list. Of all my accomplishments, these were the things that I could identify as something I loved about myself.
Not once during the time with my first sponsor did I ever reach a point where something about my personality or my accomplishments was found on that list. Yet still, I didn't see that my life was unmanageable. I left program ten pounds lighter but no better off emotionally. I got married. Had a baby. Lost the baby weight while nursing. Then within a matter of months gained almost all of it back. To put this in perspective, I weighed 230 when I got pregnant. I weighed 290 when I gave birth. I weighed 220 when I stopped nursing 6 months later, and 250 when I went back to OA 3 months later after having been completely incapable of keeping that weight from coming back.
Yet still, I wasn't ready to let go. I thought to work the program on my own, and for two months I was able to maintain a personal abstinence while not getting any healthier mentally or emotionally and while only losing five pounds. I realized I had to do something. So I sought out my current sponsor and asked her to take me on. As I discussed in my earlier post (here), I allowed myself to go off the deep end.
I can remember the exact moment that I realized both my powerlessness and the unmanageableness of my life. My husband and I were in Honolulu. We had just eaten dinner and were walking back to our hotel. I was quite full, but we had discussed getting Coldstones on the way back from dinner. I didn't really want the ice cream, but seeing as how we'd already said we were going to get some I didn't feel up to backing out. So I walked into the store not wanting the ice cream. I ordered the ice cream - and not the smallest size either - thinking I would rather not have the ice cream. Then, I proceeded to finish that ice cream while still thinking I don't want this. I didn't enjoy the ice cream, I didn't want it, but I couldn't stop myself. I ate it anyway.
That night I stared up at the ceiling, unable to sleep, and thought. The middle of the night is a terrible time to be alone with my brain. I realized that I was going to die unless I could find some way to stop eating. As the Big Book words it, I was finally licked. That night I waved the white flag and knew hopelessness and despair like I had never experienced before.
I had finally taken the first step.
Sunday, January 20, 2013
Oatmeal - Yum Yum
So I love my oatmeal. I save it as my last meal of the day because it sits so nicely in my stomach as I go to bed and soothes me right to sleep.
Tonight as I was eating oatmeal, a bit fell onto the ground. So I picked it up and was going to eat it - just had to pick that one stray dog hair off of it. And then I stopped and said "eew - what the hell are you doing?"
One month ago I totally would have eaten that piece of oatmeal [after picking out the hair]. I never would have even stopped to think about how gross that is. I decided tonight that I didn't have to. I'm not sure if it's progress, but it sure is a tiny bit less gross.
Tonight as I was eating oatmeal, a bit fell onto the ground. So I picked it up and was going to eat it - just had to pick that one stray dog hair off of it. And then I stopped and said "eew - what the hell are you doing?"
One month ago I totally would have eaten that piece of oatmeal [after picking out the hair]. I never would have even stopped to think about how gross that is. I decided tonight that I didn't have to. I'm not sure if it's progress, but it sure is a tiny bit less gross.
Monday, January 14, 2013
Jealousy
Last night I made a recipe my sponsor gave me for chicken and rice. Unfortunately, I didn't have time to eat a plate before it was time to go to my meeting so I let my husband graze and grabbed some El Pollo Loco. This morning, I put together my pre-measured plate of food and discovered how incredibly delicious the chicken and rice plate is!
Then I realized my husband was having this chicken and rice for lunch and felt an insane surge of jealousy. Yes, I was jealous of my husband for getting to eat the exact same chicken and rice that was sitting in front of me. I stopped a moment, recognized the crazy, and had a good chuckle.
Then I realized my husband was having this chicken and rice for lunch and felt an insane surge of jealousy. Yes, I was jealous of my husband for getting to eat the exact same chicken and rice that was sitting in front of me. I stopped a moment, recognized the crazy, and had a good chuckle.
Friday, January 11, 2013
Red Light, Green Light and the Inventory
When I first came into OA, I grabbed a sponsor my first meeting. The first thing she discussed was making an inventory of red light, yellow light, and green light foods. Red light foods were those which I knew I could not eat safely. Yellow light foods were those that I would have to be cautious around. Green light foods were those foods I could eat without fear of triggering compulsive overeating.
A few weeks ago I purchased a workbook at my Thursday night meeting. I turned to the first page and read the prompt before deciding to wait for instruction from my sponsor to begin this workbook. But the past weeks I have been thinking about that prompt, and for me the thoughts don't really go away until I let them go (i.e. write them down).
The prompt reads: "In OA we are encouraged to take a good look at our compulsive eating, obesity, and the self-destructive things we have done to avoid obesity - the dieting, starving, over-exercising, or purging." Here is a First-Step inventory of my compulsive eating history.
This isn't going to be a full response to that prompt, but this prompt made me think about why my work with my first sponsor was doomed to fail. Everything is a red or yellow light food! I have managed to binge at least once on all of the following [and by binge I mean overeat to an extreme degree often resulting in physical illness or extreme discomfort]:
Meats
grilled chicken breast
chicken/turkey cold cuts
bologna
hot dogs
sausage
(turkey) bacon
steak
ground beef
ground turkey
meatballs
beef jerky
ground lamb
lamb/chicken/beef kebab
Dairy
cheese [everything from goats cheese and brie to cheddar and pepper jack]
(Greek) yogurt
ice cream [not sure that should really count as dairy]
cottage cheese
sour cream [have sat down with a spoon to eat this before]
cream cheese [although I did add some sugar to it before I ate it]
eggs [scrambled, poached, over medium, hard boiled, medium boiled]
Breads/Grains
All [everything from bread to oatmeal to falafel and more]
Fruits
apples [which was a terrible idea since I am allergic to them]
(dry) apricots
avocado
bananas
blueberries
cherries
coconut
grapes
honeydew
mandarin
cantaloupe [also an allergically bad idea - I thought my mouth would never stop itching]
watermelon
nectarine
orange
peach
pear
plums
pineapple
salsa [of various origins - yum]
strawberry
tangerine
Vegetables
artichoke [that was a painful binge. . .]
black beans
chickpeas
green beans
kidney beans
lentils
pinto beans
soy beans
peas
broccoli
cabbage [another terrible idea intestinally speaking]
cauliflower [amazingly tasty with lemon juice]
celery [an unpleasant binge since I hate celery - but I ate it all anyway]
corn
okra
yellow & orange bell pepper
pepperochinis [that was some awful heart burn]
beets
carrots
pickled turnips [so tasty, but so painful in large quantities]
spinach
cucumber
zucchini
pumpkin
potato
sweet potato
yam
water chestnuts
Sweets
All
I have even binged on juices, soda, energy drinks, coffee, tea, and once drank so much water that I threw my electrolites completely out of whack.
That isn't to say I even like all the foods I've binged on. While a lot of my binging is related to the foods I like to eat, it isn't always about the food. Sometimes it is about that feeling of being painfully full - full to the point of vomiting. As in the above-mentioned celery binge, it was about inflicting punishment upon myself.
A food plan based upon avoiding trigger foods is nearly impossible when everything is a trigger. That's why my own food plan - eating virtually the same thing every day - works for me. There is no need to think or plan or be at the mercy of my binges. I eat my food and leave it at that. In the simplicity I [usually] find peace.
A few weeks ago I purchased a workbook at my Thursday night meeting. I turned to the first page and read the prompt before deciding to wait for instruction from my sponsor to begin this workbook. But the past weeks I have been thinking about that prompt, and for me the thoughts don't really go away until I let them go (i.e. write them down).
The prompt reads: "In OA we are encouraged to take a good look at our compulsive eating, obesity, and the self-destructive things we have done to avoid obesity - the dieting, starving, over-exercising, or purging." Here is a First-Step inventory of my compulsive eating history.
This isn't going to be a full response to that prompt, but this prompt made me think about why my work with my first sponsor was doomed to fail. Everything is a red or yellow light food! I have managed to binge at least once on all of the following [and by binge I mean overeat to an extreme degree often resulting in physical illness or extreme discomfort]:
Meats
grilled chicken breast
chicken/turkey cold cuts
bologna
hot dogs
sausage
(turkey) bacon
steak
ground beef
ground turkey
meatballs
beef jerky
ground lamb
lamb/chicken/beef kebab
Dairy
cheese [everything from goats cheese and brie to cheddar and pepper jack]
(Greek) yogurt
ice cream [not sure that should really count as dairy]
cottage cheese
sour cream [have sat down with a spoon to eat this before]
cream cheese [although I did add some sugar to it before I ate it]
eggs [scrambled, poached, over medium, hard boiled, medium boiled]
Breads/Grains
All [everything from bread to oatmeal to falafel and more]
Fruits
apples [which was a terrible idea since I am allergic to them]
(dry) apricots
avocado
bananas
blueberries
cherries
coconut
grapes
honeydew
mandarin
cantaloupe [also an allergically bad idea - I thought my mouth would never stop itching]
watermelon
nectarine
orange
peach
pear
plums
pineapple
salsa [of various origins - yum]
strawberry
tangerine
Vegetables
artichoke [that was a painful binge. . .]
black beans
chickpeas
green beans
kidney beans
lentils
pinto beans
soy beans
peas
broccoli
cabbage [another terrible idea intestinally speaking]
cauliflower [amazingly tasty with lemon juice]
celery [an unpleasant binge since I hate celery - but I ate it all anyway]
corn
okra
yellow & orange bell pepper
pepperochinis [that was some awful heart burn]
beets
carrots
pickled turnips [so tasty, but so painful in large quantities]
spinach
cucumber
zucchini
pumpkin
potato
sweet potato
yam
water chestnuts
Sweets
All
I have even binged on juices, soda, energy drinks, coffee, tea, and once drank so much water that I threw my electrolites completely out of whack.
That isn't to say I even like all the foods I've binged on. While a lot of my binging is related to the foods I like to eat, it isn't always about the food. Sometimes it is about that feeling of being painfully full - full to the point of vomiting. As in the above-mentioned celery binge, it was about inflicting punishment upon myself.
A food plan based upon avoiding trigger foods is nearly impossible when everything is a trigger. That's why my own food plan - eating virtually the same thing every day - works for me. There is no need to think or plan or be at the mercy of my binges. I eat my food and leave it at that. In the simplicity I [usually] find peace.
Sunday, December 23, 2012
A REALLY Bad Day
Today was a major BAD day. It really reminded me why I need to be in OA, because today the disease brought on the serious crazy.
I slept later than I wanted to, which meant I didn't have time to get work done. Which isn't the end of the world - I can do it tomorrow - but it means I can't start researching tomorrow. Then we went to lunch and ate at the restaurant, which meant I had to split my food and not have it as my salad. Again, not the end of the world. We came home and put the baby down for a nap, but he only slept for half an hour because he pooped. So we had a cranky and grumpy baby the rest of the evening while we tried to go grocery shopping.
We went first to order his birthday cake. The woman apparently was a perfectionist, because she rewrote the order on 4 slips before it was "right". All the while I am staring at the bakery display. And this isn't your usual grocery store bakery display. There are a TON of cookies, mini-cakes, little tuxedo strawberries with dark chocolate buttons, and all sorts of cookies I have no idea what the names are but that look HEAVENLY. And I'm trying to order a cake that my husband says, "are you really not going to eat his cake?" - "No sweetheart, I'm not" - "Not either day?" - "No, not either day" - "But what about the other candy, are you really not going to eat that either?" - "No, my love, I'm not eating any of that stuff." - "But they make Lebanese food for Christmas, you love that! Are you going to be ok?" - and at this stage I wanted an ice pick so I could start stabbing him repeatedly with it. My poor husband was oblivious to the fact that this was going to upset me.
The baby is fussing so we grabbed a few of the items at Gelsons - although they didn't have the seasoning - they didn't even have a Latin food section! - and then I was looking at their chicken display and it was obscene how much they were charging. And I started getting that claustrophobic feeling, and my husband is standing WAY in my space bubble the whole time. This meant that while I'm trying to read labels and find things, I have a baby smacking me in the face and pulling my hair and him breathing down my neck nagging me to just grab corn tortillas. I'm trying to make sure there isn't any sugar in them - and he wants to go.
I just wanted to SCREAM! We go order dinner because I am now starving and everywhere I look there is junk food, it seems. So we go get the next meal, even though I haven't even gotten to finish my salad yet [I turned what was left from lunch into a salad]. We bring it home and the baby goes to bed. Now I am just frazzled and while I was ok with the little things going wrong, when I take a sip of my supposedly light lemonade and it is regular I about broke down and cried.
I tried to stay calm, so I put down the lemonade and went in and got a diet Lipton green tea. I would drink that instead. Problem solved. So I made my salad while my husband put the baby down to sleep and proceeded to mix my lunch remainders in with the dinner. Good - now it is all together and I can work on my food.
I sit down and locate the next phone meeting - it was set to start in 6 minutes. Perfect. I am listening to an amazing speaker and loving my meeting. And then I start getting booted from the call. Of course, being already in crazy mode, I start to take this personally. I was booted around nine times before I finally got in and was able to stay in. I don't know what was wrong? I was on mute, so it wasn't like I was doing anything special. I mute the line on their side AND I mute my side as well just to be safe! So now my great meeting is now ruined for me because I am feeling like I was getting picked on. Oh, and I was terrified that the leader was my boss because he sounded just like him and had the same name. Thankfully it wasn't him, but I spent a good chunk of that meeting not sure if I should slink out and wait for the next phone session.
I was sad that my meeting didn't lift me up like usual. So I picked up the phone and made my outreach calls. All answering machines. I even called a few people from my We Care Phone List - same thing. I gave up on the calls and told myself that I was being irrational, and that I was responsible for my mood. I should be proud of myself for following my instructions and staying on plan. But I wasn't.
I realize I was being vile to my husband and snapping at him at the grocery store. So I apologize. The baby wakes up from his evening nap and we get bundled up to walk him around the neighborhood to look at Christmas lights while he drinks a bottle. My husband starts complaining about how this one thing hurts - and I get so annoyed because he whines and complains about aches and pains all the time. If he has the sniffles it is like the world has come to an end and he tells me "I feel sick" in misery every ten minutes. Except that I've listened to these whines and complaints for two years every single day.
So I am biting my cheek to keep my mouth shut. I have tried to get him into the doctor, but he just says "oh, this doctor at a walk in place didn't help me when I told him I hurt my shoulder" so he won't go see a doctor who specializes in the types of injuries he has. Meanwhile the fact that I have torn cartilage in both my knees, arthritis in my hands and feet, two blown discs in my back, and adhesions in my abdomen that all cause me pain on a daily basis rises up to the front of my thoughts. And you know what I don't do? Complain to him about them. He knows I have these problems but he'll forget unless they're really bad - why? Because I keep it to myself. And it isn't a martyrdom issue. I simply don't see the point in harping on it when there's nothing to be done about it.
So I get home with knees that feel like there's broken glass inside of them, my abdomen feeling like someone is repeatedly stabbing me, and listening to him whine about an ache in his shoulder. The baby has had the bottle and the dogs are now pleased that they've had their walk. The baby goes up to bed and we proceed to watch television.
I make my evening oatmeal and it isn't the kind of oats I like. I tried this rolled oats thing that doesn't really gel together into oatmeal. It's more like having Smacks cereal without the sugar/flavor. In water. And then my husband makes himself a few slices of sourdough toast. And when I give it a longing look he then takes a big bite and goes "mmmm it's delicious" - and proceeds to tell me it is revenge for me being snippy in the grocery store. I was within a millimeter of punching him in the face. And when he sees I am genuinely upset, he says "I was just teasing you, what's wrong?" Like he even needs to ask.
And then, he proceeds to talk through the whole TV show. He knows that is like nails on chalk board for me. Most nights I pause and stare at him, so he eventually gets the point and stops. But tonight I was just not able to be calm about it. I knew if I paused I would yell at him, and I didn't want to yell at him. So I sit and I stew. I drank water because I wanted to eat that sourdough bread so desperately. So of course I had to pee constantly.
Then we are going to get ready for bed and he starts up one of our repeating fights. The problem is that he is epileptic and can't remember a lot of what happened while I was pregnant. So he starts going off on how the baby made him sick. And I remind him that his insistence on not taking his medicine - against his doctor's instructions - is why he got so sick. And he argued with me that the doctor didn't go against it. And I just stared at him like he'd gone mad.
Then he got angry at me because I didn't agree with him. I am actually able to give him written proof of the doctor's instructions, but he is getting mad at me because I won't tell him what he wants to hear. But I am not going to let him say that our child is the reason he is so sick when he did it to himself! Because I know him. If he gets it into his mind that he is sick because of the baby I'm going to hear nonstop about how my having the baby ruined his life. I was just floored. But I stopped myself and didn't scream. I didn't yell. I just agreed to not have the conversation since he was getting angry.
And he wanted to get a hug and kiss goodnight before I went downstairs to do my Big Book report to my sponsor. I gave him a stiff hug and kiss and went downstairs feeling livid. Because today I do not have my cool. And even now I know it's nearly three in the morning, my baby is going to wake me up in two hours, and I'm too angry to sleep.
But on the positive side - I'm feeling my feelings, and I stayed on program. I attended my meeting. I made my outreach calls. And when I finish this journal post, I'm going to write to my sponsor and summarize my five pages. Hopefully tomorrow will be better.
Saturday, December 15, 2012
Preface xxviii
The Doctor's Opinion
"We believe, and so suggested a few years ago, that the action of [food] on these [compulsive overeaters] is a manifestation of an allergy; that the phenomenon of craving is limited to this class and never occurs in the average temperate drinker." - xxviii
There hasn't been any indication of an "allergy" response, but as I mentioned previously there is a definite difference between compulsive overeaters and the normal population in terms of brain response to food. I mentioned to my sponsor tonight that this mechanism is why I always had a hard time relating to other people who tried to help me. It just seemed like the dieticians, nutritionists, doctors, trainers, food counselors at diet locations, family and friends - everyone tried telling me about some magic trick that would help me overcome this problem. They all made it sound like it was sooo easy to just follow a diet and lose the weight. Whenever I try to talk to my mom about it she talks about her own struggles with food - but even then it isn't the same. She says how it is hard to say no to sweets, but she doesn't have the same cravings. And if she does have them, clearly the fact that she can say no indicates it isn't as bad as what I experience.
I was on vacation last week. My husband and I passed a Coldstone and I thought "wow, that sounds amazing" and then we went in to buy the ice cream. As we waited, I thought "you know, I really don't want this - it's just going to give me a stomach ache." But I bought the ice cream anyway. Then I ate the ice cream and every bite I thought "I really don't want this" - but I couldn't put the ice cream down. I felt powerless to stop myself from going through the motion of eating that desert. And it was stupid, but I really felt unable to stop. It was a compulsion to keep going. And it wasn't that I didn't want to waste the ice cream, either.
How can someone who doesn't have that type of response understand what I go through on a day to day basis with food?
"These allergic types can never safely [eat] in any form at all; and once having formed the habit and found they cannot break it, once having lost their self-confidence, their reliance upon things human, their problems pile up on them and become astonishingly difficult to solve." - xxviii
The alcoholic can simply stop eating, but the food addict doesn't have that luxury. So we enter the danger zone every time we hit a meal time. I hear all the time in meetings about how things get tough when people are "in the food" - how the world goes crazy. I can't say it goes crazy per se, but I do know that I feel absolute desperation when that point hits me. It is this sense of defeat that is absolutely awful. And the lack of self-confidence is a very true point. It always seems when my eating and weight are out of control - and I have tried to control it and tried and tried - I feel like I doubt myself in everything and everywhere. And suddenly I am just crippled by the hopelessness.
"Frothy emotional appeal seldom suffices. The message which can interest and hold these [compulsive overeaters] must have depth and weight." - xxviii
My dad loves to tell me how I need to lose weight because he doesn't want to have to raise my son for me. I know I need to get my eating under control. I know this disease can be deadly. I don't want to die. I don't want to miss out on my son's life. But that doesn't mean that this is going to help me. If it was a simple matter of willpower, I'd have kicked this thing years ago. It isn't. But all of these reasons are what has gotten me through the door at OA, and they are the reason I will go to any lengths for recovery.
"Men and women [overeat] essentially because they like the effect produced by [food]. The sensation is so elusive that, while they admit it is injurious, they cannot after a time differentiate the true from the false. To them, their [compulsive overeating] life seems the only normal one." - xxviii
I honestly don't know how other people can eat "normally." I don't think I eat more than other people. It doesn't seem like I am doing anything that other people aren't doing. But somehow I'm still obese. I still eat things I shouldn't. And I lie to myself about what I'm eating and how much I'm eating. The process of stuffing myself becomes so unbelievably automatic. Now that I'm on a food plan I look at what it entails and I'm amazed becuase I'm still hungry. The portions are resasonable, they seem normal, and even though I would think this would be more than enough food - it isn't. And I'm hungry. Which tells me I was eating more than this amount every day. That just makes it all the harder to know what I'm doing right and wrong. The worst part is - I have believed for years that dieting doesn't make a difference to my weight at a certain point - it seems like my body clings to the weight. Is this true or is my ability to understand normal portions so skewed that I can't see that I am overeating instead of following a sensible diet.
"They are restless, irritable and discontented, unless they can again experience the sense of ease and comfort which comes at once by [eating a few bites] - [bites] which they see others taking with impunity." - xxviii-xxix
It is awful to wake up thinking of food. Eat, thinking about the next meal before the current one is even finished. Think about how long until you can eat again without it being odd or bizarre. Grocery shopping is just torture, because you want to buy one of everything and eat it all. And the worst part is you see all these normal sized people eating junk food - cake and ice cream and pizza and fast food. How can they do it but I can't? It's maddening.
"We believe, and so suggested a few years ago, that the action of [food] on these [compulsive overeaters] is a manifestation of an allergy; that the phenomenon of craving is limited to this class and never occurs in the average temperate drinker." - xxviii
There hasn't been any indication of an "allergy" response, but as I mentioned previously there is a definite difference between compulsive overeaters and the normal population in terms of brain response to food. I mentioned to my sponsor tonight that this mechanism is why I always had a hard time relating to other people who tried to help me. It just seemed like the dieticians, nutritionists, doctors, trainers, food counselors at diet locations, family and friends - everyone tried telling me about some magic trick that would help me overcome this problem. They all made it sound like it was sooo easy to just follow a diet and lose the weight. Whenever I try to talk to my mom about it she talks about her own struggles with food - but even then it isn't the same. She says how it is hard to say no to sweets, but she doesn't have the same cravings. And if she does have them, clearly the fact that she can say no indicates it isn't as bad as what I experience.
I was on vacation last week. My husband and I passed a Coldstone and I thought "wow, that sounds amazing" and then we went in to buy the ice cream. As we waited, I thought "you know, I really don't want this - it's just going to give me a stomach ache." But I bought the ice cream anyway. Then I ate the ice cream and every bite I thought "I really don't want this" - but I couldn't put the ice cream down. I felt powerless to stop myself from going through the motion of eating that desert. And it was stupid, but I really felt unable to stop. It was a compulsion to keep going. And it wasn't that I didn't want to waste the ice cream, either.
How can someone who doesn't have that type of response understand what I go through on a day to day basis with food?
"These allergic types can never safely [eat] in any form at all; and once having formed the habit and found they cannot break it, once having lost their self-confidence, their reliance upon things human, their problems pile up on them and become astonishingly difficult to solve." - xxviii
The alcoholic can simply stop eating, but the food addict doesn't have that luxury. So we enter the danger zone every time we hit a meal time. I hear all the time in meetings about how things get tough when people are "in the food" - how the world goes crazy. I can't say it goes crazy per se, but I do know that I feel absolute desperation when that point hits me. It is this sense of defeat that is absolutely awful. And the lack of self-confidence is a very true point. It always seems when my eating and weight are out of control - and I have tried to control it and tried and tried - I feel like I doubt myself in everything and everywhere. And suddenly I am just crippled by the hopelessness.
"Frothy emotional appeal seldom suffices. The message which can interest and hold these [compulsive overeaters] must have depth and weight." - xxviii
My dad loves to tell me how I need to lose weight because he doesn't want to have to raise my son for me. I know I need to get my eating under control. I know this disease can be deadly. I don't want to die. I don't want to miss out on my son's life. But that doesn't mean that this is going to help me. If it was a simple matter of willpower, I'd have kicked this thing years ago. It isn't. But all of these reasons are what has gotten me through the door at OA, and they are the reason I will go to any lengths for recovery.
"Men and women [overeat] essentially because they like the effect produced by [food]. The sensation is so elusive that, while they admit it is injurious, they cannot after a time differentiate the true from the false. To them, their [compulsive overeating] life seems the only normal one." - xxviii
I honestly don't know how other people can eat "normally." I don't think I eat more than other people. It doesn't seem like I am doing anything that other people aren't doing. But somehow I'm still obese. I still eat things I shouldn't. And I lie to myself about what I'm eating and how much I'm eating. The process of stuffing myself becomes so unbelievably automatic. Now that I'm on a food plan I look at what it entails and I'm amazed becuase I'm still hungry. The portions are resasonable, they seem normal, and even though I would think this would be more than enough food - it isn't. And I'm hungry. Which tells me I was eating more than this amount every day. That just makes it all the harder to know what I'm doing right and wrong. The worst part is - I have believed for years that dieting doesn't make a difference to my weight at a certain point - it seems like my body clings to the weight. Is this true or is my ability to understand normal portions so skewed that I can't see that I am overeating instead of following a sensible diet.
"They are restless, irritable and discontented, unless they can again experience the sense of ease and comfort which comes at once by [eating a few bites] - [bites] which they see others taking with impunity." - xxviii-xxix
It is awful to wake up thinking of food. Eat, thinking about the next meal before the current one is even finished. Think about how long until you can eat again without it being odd or bizarre. Grocery shopping is just torture, because you want to buy one of everything and eat it all. And the worst part is you see all these normal sized people eating junk food - cake and ice cream and pizza and fast food. How can they do it but I can't? It's maddening.
Sunday, November 25, 2012
Preface - xxii to xxvi
Foreword to Third Edition
"Seven percent of the A.A.'s surveyed are less than 30 years of age - among them, many in their teens." - xxii
The fact that there were people back in the fledgling years of AA who were this young just confirms for me that there is a genetic component to addiction. My great grandfather was a terrible alcoholic. It was eventually what killed him - which isn't surprising since having lost a leg while being hit by a train [while drunk] didn't stop him from drinking. Addiction is hard-wired into my DNA. And it isn't just food. I can be compulsive about anything - arts and crafts, video games, books, etc. It always seems to be that I get started doing something, and then I feel compulsively driven to keep doing that one thing. So everything is feast or famine with me. If I am in the mood to watch TV, I want to watch TV every night and every free minute of the day. But as soon as I want to read instead of watch TV, I suddenly am obsessed with reading every night and every free minute of the day. There is no middle ground - and it seems to be the same way with food. I either am binge eating or I am fasting/purging. I always tend to swing to the extremes.
". . . recovery begins when one [compulsive overeater] talks with another [compulsive overeater], sharing experience, strength, and hope." - xxii
It was the feeling of helplessness and hopelessness that brought me back to OA. What has been so bizarre this time around is that when my world feels overwhelming and I think I don't have the strength to make it another day, I go to a meeting and I feel like things will be okay. And it isn't just about abstinence, it's about my job and my marriage and my child - all the little stresses that build up until I think that I am going to break are gone as soon as I walk in that door. It is like I can finally breathe again. And the rest of the day or night (depending on the time of the meeting) I feel like I have the strength to keep going.
Foreword to Fourth Edition
"When the phrase 'We are people who normally would not mix' . . . was written in 1939, it referred to a Fellowship composed largely of men (and a few women) with quite similar social, ethnic, and economic backgrounds. Like so much of A.A.'s basic text, those words have proved to be far more visionary than the founding members could ever have imagined." - xxiii
The most bizarre aspect of OA meetings is the kinship I feel with people I never would have encountered in my daily life otherwise. I listen to speakers who are from completely different social, ethnic and economic backgrounds to me and I hear my own story. It's like meeting a family I never knew existed but who are so like me it is almost frightening. And I do feel a kinship with the people I talk to at the meetings. We're in this together, and there is a camaraderie, because I need them to recover and they need me to recover. At my first meeting, I had the distinct sensation that I was coming home.
". . . [OA]'s speak the language of the heart in all its power and simplicity." - xxiv
I love that I can be honest about my life when I am sharing at an OA meeting. There is something amazing about the anonymity that allows me to open up my deepest and darkest secrets. This is the place where it is appropriate to strip down the ego and the image and all the bullshit we put out to hide our disease. We can bear all and know that we are safe to do so. Not only do people understand the lows, they've been there themselves. There's a great quote I heard that goes something like this: "Of course we feel inadequate - we're comparing our everyday lives to other people's highlight reels." At the meetings we get to share the worst moments of our lives and discover that we're not alone. It is that honesty and that understanding that I think of when I read this passage.
The Doctor's Opinion
". . . suffered [compulsive overeater] torture. . ." - xxvi
God, how true this is. There is that moment when I've finished the box of Oreos or that carton of ice cream that I hate myself. Or sometimes even while I still am eating, because I look in that container and see that I have two more cookies, and it is with bone deep and gut wrenching despair that I pick up those two cookies and eat them. Because they're there. Because then the box will be empty and it won't be there to torment me any more.
And I hate myself every last second that the bite is going into my mouth, and every last second I chew that bite, all the way until I finish that box. And I despise myself for the weakness that led me to eat the box in the first place. I promise not to ever buy another box of cookies again. I swear that I have learned my lesson and I never ever want to feel horrible like that again. But somehow when I am at the store it seems like my arms and hands have a will entirely of their own as I put another box in my cart. And I hate myself for putting that box in my cart. And I hate myself for putting that box on the conveyor belt to be purchased. And the cycle begins again.
Not to mention the deep shame of it all. Sometimes I try to pretend I am having friends over - I make up a story about going to a party or having people over to watch the game. And when I go to drive-thru windows and am ordering enough food to feed an army I purchase multiple drinks just so the person at the window won't know that it is all for me. Yet there is still that pinpoint of terror inside when the cashier looks at me that they know. They are looking at my fat ass and they know that I just paid another five dollars for two extra drinks to try and pretend that all that food isn't going into my own stomach.
Torture is the best possible word for this disease.
". . . the body of the [compulsive overeater] is quite as abnormal as his mind. . . It did not satisfy us to be told that we could not control our [eating] just because we were maladjusted to life, that we were in full flight from reality, or were outright mental defectives. These things were true to some extent, in fact, to a considerable extent with some of us. But we are sure that our bodies were sickened as well. In our belief, any picture of the [compulsive overeater] which leaves out this physical factor is incomplete." - xxvi
This is the flip side to the discussion that was previously in the preface talking about how this is not just a physical problem but a spiritual malady. It also ties in to the findings that addiction is something a person can be genetically predispositioned to. At least one study shows that sugar can be as addictive as cocaine or heroin, including withdrawal symptoms if it is eliminated from the diet.
"Seven percent of the A.A.'s surveyed are less than 30 years of age - among them, many in their teens." - xxii
The fact that there were people back in the fledgling years of AA who were this young just confirms for me that there is a genetic component to addiction. My great grandfather was a terrible alcoholic. It was eventually what killed him - which isn't surprising since having lost a leg while being hit by a train [while drunk] didn't stop him from drinking. Addiction is hard-wired into my DNA. And it isn't just food. I can be compulsive about anything - arts and crafts, video games, books, etc. It always seems to be that I get started doing something, and then I feel compulsively driven to keep doing that one thing. So everything is feast or famine with me. If I am in the mood to watch TV, I want to watch TV every night and every free minute of the day. But as soon as I want to read instead of watch TV, I suddenly am obsessed with reading every night and every free minute of the day. There is no middle ground - and it seems to be the same way with food. I either am binge eating or I am fasting/purging. I always tend to swing to the extremes.
". . . recovery begins when one [compulsive overeater] talks with another [compulsive overeater], sharing experience, strength, and hope." - xxii
It was the feeling of helplessness and hopelessness that brought me back to OA. What has been so bizarre this time around is that when my world feels overwhelming and I think I don't have the strength to make it another day, I go to a meeting and I feel like things will be okay. And it isn't just about abstinence, it's about my job and my marriage and my child - all the little stresses that build up until I think that I am going to break are gone as soon as I walk in that door. It is like I can finally breathe again. And the rest of the day or night (depending on the time of the meeting) I feel like I have the strength to keep going.
Foreword to Fourth Edition
"When the phrase 'We are people who normally would not mix' . . . was written in 1939, it referred to a Fellowship composed largely of men (and a few women) with quite similar social, ethnic, and economic backgrounds. Like so much of A.A.'s basic text, those words have proved to be far more visionary than the founding members could ever have imagined." - xxiii
The most bizarre aspect of OA meetings is the kinship I feel with people I never would have encountered in my daily life otherwise. I listen to speakers who are from completely different social, ethnic and economic backgrounds to me and I hear my own story. It's like meeting a family I never knew existed but who are so like me it is almost frightening. And I do feel a kinship with the people I talk to at the meetings. We're in this together, and there is a camaraderie, because I need them to recover and they need me to recover. At my first meeting, I had the distinct sensation that I was coming home.
". . . [OA]'s speak the language of the heart in all its power and simplicity." - xxiv
I love that I can be honest about my life when I am sharing at an OA meeting. There is something amazing about the anonymity that allows me to open up my deepest and darkest secrets. This is the place where it is appropriate to strip down the ego and the image and all the bullshit we put out to hide our disease. We can bear all and know that we are safe to do so. Not only do people understand the lows, they've been there themselves. There's a great quote I heard that goes something like this: "Of course we feel inadequate - we're comparing our everyday lives to other people's highlight reels." At the meetings we get to share the worst moments of our lives and discover that we're not alone. It is that honesty and that understanding that I think of when I read this passage.
The Doctor's Opinion
". . . suffered [compulsive overeater] torture. . ." - xxvi
God, how true this is. There is that moment when I've finished the box of Oreos or that carton of ice cream that I hate myself. Or sometimes even while I still am eating, because I look in that container and see that I have two more cookies, and it is with bone deep and gut wrenching despair that I pick up those two cookies and eat them. Because they're there. Because then the box will be empty and it won't be there to torment me any more.
And I hate myself every last second that the bite is going into my mouth, and every last second I chew that bite, all the way until I finish that box. And I despise myself for the weakness that led me to eat the box in the first place. I promise not to ever buy another box of cookies again. I swear that I have learned my lesson and I never ever want to feel horrible like that again. But somehow when I am at the store it seems like my arms and hands have a will entirely of their own as I put another box in my cart. And I hate myself for putting that box in my cart. And I hate myself for putting that box on the conveyor belt to be purchased. And the cycle begins again.
Not to mention the deep shame of it all. Sometimes I try to pretend I am having friends over - I make up a story about going to a party or having people over to watch the game. And when I go to drive-thru windows and am ordering enough food to feed an army I purchase multiple drinks just so the person at the window won't know that it is all for me. Yet there is still that pinpoint of terror inside when the cashier looks at me that they know. They are looking at my fat ass and they know that I just paid another five dollars for two extra drinks to try and pretend that all that food isn't going into my own stomach.
Torture is the best possible word for this disease.
". . . the body of the [compulsive overeater] is quite as abnormal as his mind. . . It did not satisfy us to be told that we could not control our [eating] just because we were maladjusted to life, that we were in full flight from reality, or were outright mental defectives. These things were true to some extent, in fact, to a considerable extent with some of us. But we are sure that our bodies were sickened as well. In our belief, any picture of the [compulsive overeater] which leaves out this physical factor is incomplete." - xxvi
This is the flip side to the discussion that was previously in the preface talking about how this is not just a physical problem but a spiritual malady. It also ties in to the findings that addiction is something a person can be genetically predispositioned to. At least one study shows that sugar can be as addictive as cocaine or heroin, including withdrawal symptoms if it is eliminated from the diet.
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