Normal?

I'm not normal. 

Let me clarify, I'm not normal about food.  I think about food constantly, no matter where I am, the time of day or when I last stuffed something in my mouth, you can ask at anytime and I can tell you, I'm thinking about food.  Of course, that's if I'd dare admit it.  Because how embarrassing is it that I can probably tell you that food is on my mind more often throughout the day than my family?  That's a guess, but I'm betting if I did keep track, making hash marks everytime I thought of either, I'd be further humiliated.

Most people (normal people) eat a meal or a snack when they're hungry and that's it.  No further thought of when their next meal might be, or if they think they really got enough or would anybody notice if they just grabbed a little bit more of whatever was out there, just in case.  Just in case?  Yep, just in case every food selling establishment in civilization suddenly shut down and food would be totally unavailable.  What???  It could happen.  In my worst nightmare.

Normal people feel full and satisfied after eating their meal or snack.  They sit back, appreciate what they just enjoyed and think about anything BUT more food.  Me?  Not so much.  I don't feel full.  I mean, I don't recognize nor respect the feeling of being full.  Just because my stomach is distended and my clothes feel snug, I just am not sure I'm really full, I can probably put just a bit more in. 

Because, you never know.  All the food selling establishments in civilization might suddenly shut down.  And I'd never feel full (or imagine what full felt like) ever again.  So, like a military strategist, I start or get halfway through a meal or snack and I'm already planning the next pit stop.  The next survival post.  And trust me, I can afford to miss a few of those.

I know what normal should be with food, but in all honesty, I don't think I can ever remember NOT being somewhat obsessed by food.  I have gone two whole days with exercising what I believe to be awesome self control.  If I didn't bring it, I didn't eat it.  But something strange is happening.  Instead of being proud of myself and celebrating this, I feel a little bit anxious.  Maybe more than a little bit.  I mean, what if the kids finish off the goldfish crackers before I get a chance to get some?  Or what if the candy in the cupboard (that's been there for a while) gets eaten and I've MISSED OUT???????  I feel like I might miss out on something.  And that's not normal.

I need to study normal more...and figure out how to try it on without having a panic attack that sends me to the nearest fast food restaurant so I can shove a hamburger meal down my throat before going home to dinner.  Because that's happened.  Embarrassing.

And I'd like to be normal....at least about food.

Quieting the Dialogue and Doritos

One of the things that has been going on in my head for who knows how long is this horrible dialogue:  You're fat. You look horrible.  Your thighs are too big.  Double chins attack! Your face is fat.  And on and on.  I never really realized how often that was going through my head until today.

Today I went to another meeting.  I took a little longer lunch and spent the hour with a group of women who helped me quietly understand that this dialogue, it's mine.  Not anyone else's, just mine.  I'm my worst enemy, the biggest critic I have and the most cruel. 

Not that it's just like "Voila!!!" and it's gone.  But today I tried hard to recognize when I was doing this to myself.  I kept a little journal with me all day and in addition to tracking my eating, I tracked my feelings (sample:  OMG! DORITOS!!!! Someone put out nacho cheeseDORITOS!!!!) yes, foodcentric, but the reality of my easily diverted train of thought when something as yummy as nacho cheese Doritos make an appearance.  I'm not even joking.  Most girls heads turn at some beautiful jewelry, I'm a sucker for salty, cheesy snacks.  So no, it's not going to be easy to change the dialogue that fast, but I made a good attempt today.

As I tracked my food, how I felt and when I was having a Dorito moment, I realized that if I just held on a few extra minutes...I was okay.  No, I'm not kidding.  I didn't have to be hauled away by ambulance because my heart had stopped beating....I was okay.  I know, I'm still reeling at that too.  I have a thousand miles to go yet, but I'm taking the first few steps and with just that, I had a peaceful few hours without the madness.

I want more of those!

Following Through

So I did it.

Last night I got online to check out meeting times/places for a place that I felt I needed to go today.  A place to help me get a handle on where I am, what I need to do and why the hell I can't do it on my own.  I was all jazzed up, got the information and went to bed with all the intentions of heading out at 7:00am to get there.

Well, this morning came and I thought "Eh, I can go next week".  But the realization hit that if I didn't go today, I wouldn't go next week, and I probably really wouldn't ever go.  So I got up, I got dressed, kissed my boys good bye and headed down the hill.

Let's call my destination "Out of Control Eaters Unite".  To be honest, I got within a mile and suddenly felt mortified and angst ridden and humiliated and might even have had a few heart palpitations.  After a text exchange with my husband, I regained my "ooomph" and off I went.  I'd love to say that I swooped in full of confidence and "let's get this thing going", but as I met all these really nice recovered out of control eaters, I was eaten alive with guilt at the fact that I had stopped for a supreme croissant from Jack in The Box on the way.  I was waiting for someone to smell the grease on my breath and shout "FRAUD!!!"  (Yes, J.I.B. breakfasts HAVE to stop.)

But curiously, they didn't.  They welcomed me with open arms and treated me as the winner of a contest for having walked in that door.  I was introduced with the 3 other brave newcomers and we sat and listened to the stories of the struggles of others, the successes and the way they battled their day to day demons. 

I was so inspired.  I felt like this was something I could do!!!  I finally felt as if someone got it. Someone understood the weird things I'd been doing (sneaking food, stashing food, coveting and dreaming of food) and didn't think I was insane.  They got it.  I'm really excited about the process and program with this group, I especially think that the support and understanding from them will help me be successful in my own goals.  Not that it's going to be easy....I mean, I had to pass up pizza and ice cream at Costco today.  But check this out:  I'm still here! I didn't melt into a puddle because I didn't have it.  Yay for me! 

That's Day One.  Lots more to come!

BEING FAT SUCKS

Yep, I said it.

Being fat sucks.  It sucks large fat donkey balls.  It sucks even more than that.

Today I had emotional fat meltdown.  I had the "I hate my fat clothes, fat calf boots and I hate fat me" day.  To be honest, this is a first.  I've had moments and weeks where I was all about losing weight, kicking ass on the diet du jour, exercising all those fat cells till they wanted to run far, far away from me.  And then I'd go back to nothing.  Just let the fat cells join back up, climb on and hang on tight.

It was a sad day, a humiliating day, an embarrassing day that turned into a pretty good damn day.

Only because of my husband.  See, I have been feeling this deep down, bubbling lava of hate for a while now.  But it's amazing!!! I can squelch it with Hershey's kisses and lasagna and chocolate bars and, well, you get the drift.  Like a drug, food lights my high for a short time, savoring the flavor, the texture, the absolute rebellious feeling of eating what I shouldn't.  But then I crash.  I hit that "I hate myself" phase, feel like a complete moron for giving in and make myself emotionally ill with the realization that I'm still fat, and just fed those monster fat cells more ammunition.  Fuck!!!  But wait!!! I know how to feel better!!!!!  Hershey Kisses!!! Lasagna!!!! Chocolate bars!!!!!  Chips!!!! And you can see where this goes.  Plus, on bad days (and I've had my share), food ALWAYS loves me, it's always happy to see me and it's ready to be my buddy.

Today I realized (sadly and emotionally), after my 2nd breakfast, that I had had a second breakfast.  That I have a lot of seconds and thirds and my thighs and ass show it.  A lot.  As in my fat girl jeans are starting to cry when they see me coming.  That's fat.  The worst part, I literally hit the bottom of my fat sadness today.  And I emailed my husband with the horrible, embarrassing, humiliating truth.

I mean, he knows I'm fat, the guy sleeps in the same bed as me.  But I had to admit that it's not "just hormones".  It's the fact that I eat a lot of crap.  A lot of chocolate, and chips and chocolate and fast food and chocolate....you know what I'm saying.  But here's the worst part:  I hide it.  I eat all that stuff when no one is looking.  I stash chocolate, I sneak food, I "revenge" eat, even though the only person suffering is me.  This has to stop.  Because seriously, I hate myself like this right now and I don't want to be the "big girl" everywhere I go.

And my husband, well, he's the best.  He is supportive of what it's going to take for me to accomplish what I need to, he's willing to help even more than he already does with the kids so I can get to the gym, and to get to some meetings that I really need to go to.  I need to get in my head and he's my number one cheerleader in doing this.  And he made sure that I knew how much he loves me.  He's a great man.  I want to be a great woman, a healthy woman.....and definitely, a sexy woman for him.

So, part of my "recovery" is to keep up with this blog, to be real about where I'm starting (not actual pounds, I'm not THAT masochistic), my successes and my failures.  I am going to outline my goals, my dreams, my setbacks and my progress.  Because really, being fat sucks....even my fat clothes agree.

Inadequate and disconnected

Inadequate is how I'm feeling lately.

I feel like I can't get done everything I want or need to.  I feel like I know I should be eating better, but I'm not, I should be exercising, THAT's not happening, and I feel like I'm disconnected.  I mean, I get things done, food's on the table, family taken care of, work done at my job, it's just without passion.

It's hard to describe these feelings, because it's not like I'm depressed or anything like that, but I just don't feel motivated to do what I need to do.  And what makes it worse is that the trickle down effect of that is the worst.  It makes me feel fat and ugly and undesirable, and if I feel like that, well.....I act like that.  And you can imagine where it all goes from there.

I'm not being as nice as I could/should be, but I don't know how to make it stop. I need to take a step back and pay attention to what I need to hear inside.  I'm sure there's a voice in there somewhere that can speak reasonably and get me to sit up and listen.  I just need to be quiet enough, long enough, to hear it. 

I read a great quote about just this sort of thing today and it's only now, nearly 12 hours later that I am remembering and realizing that I read it.  It said "When you don't know what to do, do nothing.  Get quiet so you can hear the still, small voice."  I think I need to do that, I've got too many voices calling out too many things, most of them not nice and directed solely at me.  Not productive at all for trying to lift myself and feel better and to feel passionate about anything, and that sucks.  I am a passionate person and losing my passion, well it just sucks.

I'll be working on finding and hearing that small voice so that I can feel and recognize the abundance in my life, and to feel more connected to all of it. 

Survival and Sanity

Well, I did it .  I got through the week of my "dread-aversary" and I survived.  Truly, truly survived, but I had a LOT of help.

I actually shouldn't say "but", because instead it should read "because".  I truly, truly survived BECAUSE I had help.  This is huge for me because I don't usually ask for help, and I don't usually let people help.  I'm kind of stubborn, but needy at the same time.  Going into the week I really thought it was going to be hard, and horrendous and really sad.  But I did something different:  I put it out there, I let people know that I was still grieving and needed a little extra.  And I got it. 

I have friends who supported me, and who provide me with the gift of their friendship and love.  I can't ask for mor than that.  And my husband, well, he was the rock he always is, I don't know how he does it but I'm so grateful for him.  And of course my family, just knowing they were there gave me comfort.

I also did a mini 7 day Muchness challenge, just to keep my head and emotions above water, and that really helped.  If you've never looked, go to http://www.findingmymuchness.com/, it's amazing!

I'm glad, I'm happy and I'm okay....my week went well and I feel relatively unscathed.  Way better than I could have hoped for as the week had approached.  My sanity is intact and I head to the next challenge....my tubal ligation.  Lots of mixed feelings there, but I'll address that later.  For now, I'm going to smile.

Heading Into the Danger Zone

It's coming.

That day. The one year "anniversary".  And I can't stop it.  I can't make it go away and I can't ignore it.  Because trust me, I've tried.  I fooled myself into thinking that all I have to do is ignore it and it'll sneak past quietly and without recognition by me.

But I'm wrong.  It is in the back of my mind constantly.  I can't look at my children without thinking about it, I can't look at babies or small children who would be Caoimhe's age without dying a little inside.  It hurts, way more than I thought it would at this stage.  A year?  A whole year has passed and still I feel like it's the first day after hearing about the diagnosis and what had to be done.

I'm scared of this day because I have to be at work. I have to try to pretend that it's any other normal day because for everyone else, it is.  It doesn't affect them, they have no reason to remember why I am so sad and I sure a hell can't walk around and say "Everybody feel sorry for me today.  I lost a baby a year ago today and I deserve to cry, bitch and throw whatever temper tantrums I'm inclined to".  Not happening.

So I thought about something.  When I did my Muchness challenge, I had to find something good, something fun or something right about each day, and that is what I need to do this week.  I need to focus on life, on the living and what makes me whole every day.  Not that Caoimhe doesn't deserve a thought, a lot actually, but I want it to be without regret, without sadness (as impossibly hard as that will be).  So I will head into the danger zone armed....I have to.