Control. Discipline. Success. Worthwhile. Thin.
Chaos. Craving. Unaccomplished. Loser. Fat.
I see these two categories as distinct trends within our society. I see the first one as the sales pitch for happiness. I see the second one as the consequences-warning we are told if we don't buy into the first. I can't live up to the first one (I'm not sure it's healthy to, even if I could) and I'm not as far gone as the second category implies.
I find myself a mixture of the two. I used to, and still do to a lesser extent, beat myself up for what I perceive to be a lack of discipline in my eating. But that "lack of discipline" only comes because I refuse to or don't know how to acknowledge my emotional cravings (needs). I can control all sorts of situations and have discipline in some areas, leading to success (ex. 4.0 in grad school), but at the same time live in a chaotic, cluttered house (also grad school).
I vacillate between being scared to buy something and bring it into my house now because it might become clutter that will later need to be thrown out, donated, or cleaned as it listlessly takes up space (control) and then going on a clothes buying spree even though I might not wear the clothes for months because I'm not sure about them (craving). My control and craving are constantly dancing. Control and craving aren't bad in and of themselves, but the way I give in to them can be.
I do want to control my environment and myself. But somehow I do it in a really warped way that causes me fatigue, stress, unhealthy decisions, and heartache. The things that I do control, I put so much focus and energy into that I actually don't want to control anything else. I try to give 100% at school, but I come home and I don't want to make another decision, talk to another person, grade another paper or even do household chores. I want to curl up on the couch and find oblivion, which has more lately been in sleep than in food. But my issues with food have found a new route...eating more at mealtimes. I found myself at all three meals today eating past full. WHY?! Why am I doing this to myself? And here's the warped control--I felt full, I was fully cognizant of my fullness, and yet I ate more. I'm similar to the anorectic who feels hungry, knows she is hungry and ought to eat, yet limits herself to very little of whatever she determines is safe to eat. We are both controlling and punishing ourselves. Do I feel myself such a loser that I have to punish myself by eating too much?
I have made some really good strides lately. My counselor seemed genuinely proud of me for calling, arranging, and dealing with the on-going management of our lawn guy, the tree guy, and now the roofer. I kind of see that, but my focus is on the fact that my husband wanted me to attempt to negotiate away the delivery fee for our mattress and I panicked at the thought of even doing that. He dropped the demand when he saw how upset I was getting, but all I've felt since then is guilt in not trying to get out of the $38 delivery fee. I know rationally the worse thing the mattress guy could say was "no" but emotionally I couldn't handle that "no." Plus, I don't think it's unreasonable to charge a delivery fee. I wish it wasn't the case, but that's how the company wants to run and I'm willing to buy from them. Just like I think the property taxes in my suburb are ridiculous, but I want to live in my house, so I pay the taxes.
That's just a little thing. I don't know what is really getting under my skin and causing my eating issues--maybe the school year ending and the vast openness of summer break? What I do know is that I want to get to a place of even-keel, where I listen to my cravings but the cravings are less intense and I exercise appropriate (and kind) control over myself so that I can do more than just my job. I'd like to be a healthy person. The learning is in figuring out how to get there. Maybe one way is by rejecting these categories.
Saturday, May 29, 2010
Saturday, May 22, 2010
No man is an island, entire of itself
I learn a lot about people because, for some reason, they like to share very personal things with me. Of course this happens at school with students on a fairly frequent basis. I always assumed this was because I create a classroom environment of respect and caring. This might be the case--and explains why I've had three girls confess to anorexia and two other girls to cutting (I took the steps the ensure these girls got help), plus two boys who talk to me weekly about their lives and dating (I'm chalking this up to mentoring). But, I also have strangers confess things to me, and that makes me think that there might just be something about how I respond to people that's a little different.
My most recent stranger-confession came on Thursday night (before my body responded to the food poisoning and laid me out on Friday). My husband and I stopped at Great Lakes Brewery to watch the Canadians v. Flyers game (we don't have cable and it was a few blocks from where we had dinner). I'm sitting at the bar, drinking water and sipping on a stout when the woman next to me complements my skirt. I thank her and we banter a little bit. Then she complements my shoes and I complement hers. More banter follows. Eventually I've had four glasses of water with some stout and have to go to the bathroom, so I make my way to the basement where I find this woman standing in front of the full length mirror and she's examining herself. And I know, in an instant, that something is wrong. She's tugging at her sides and smashing her breasts down, and the woman is already small. She looks like she wants to rip her skin off and disappear. She needs help. I have no memory of what our first couple sentences were, but I remember standing in front of the open stall and just straight out saying, "I have an eating disorder."
She squealed "me too!" and mock puked. We spent an inordinate amount of time in the bathroom, as she fell apart and told me she wanted to kill herself and that she was so fat. She had already been to a treatment facility for three months because her job forced her due to her low weight (which makes me think she's anorexic, but does binge-purge too). She also showed me the scars on her arms from when she tried to kill herself (and the cuts were done the "correct" way). I told her that even though I didn't know her, I cared if she died...and if I care, she needed to imagine how many other people cared, including the guy waiting for her upstairs.
We talked about a lot of other things, all eating disorder related. I don't want to get into them. But I do worry for this girl. She wanted me phone number, so I texted her while we were still at Great Lakes. I texted her later that night, but got no response. I am genuinely worried about her. I do care what happens to her.
It was not all that long ago that I was a complete and utter disaster. It wasn't long ago that I regained my ability to discern healthy reality. Heck, there are literally days at a time where I still lose that ability (Tues & Wed of this week!)and I just try to ride them out without freaking out on anyone or myself. But I now (mostly) know when I've lost touch with a healthy reality. This girl can't see that. And I could so easily be this girl.
"No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main. If a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less, as well as if promontory were, as well as if a manor of thy friend's or of thine own were. Any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind; and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee." ~John Donne, Meditation XVII
My most recent stranger-confession came on Thursday night (before my body responded to the food poisoning and laid me out on Friday). My husband and I stopped at Great Lakes Brewery to watch the Canadians v. Flyers game (we don't have cable and it was a few blocks from where we had dinner). I'm sitting at the bar, drinking water and sipping on a stout when the woman next to me complements my skirt. I thank her and we banter a little bit. Then she complements my shoes and I complement hers. More banter follows. Eventually I've had four glasses of water with some stout and have to go to the bathroom, so I make my way to the basement where I find this woman standing in front of the full length mirror and she's examining herself. And I know, in an instant, that something is wrong. She's tugging at her sides and smashing her breasts down, and the woman is already small. She looks like she wants to rip her skin off and disappear. She needs help. I have no memory of what our first couple sentences were, but I remember standing in front of the open stall and just straight out saying, "I have an eating disorder."
She squealed "me too!" and mock puked. We spent an inordinate amount of time in the bathroom, as she fell apart and told me she wanted to kill herself and that she was so fat. She had already been to a treatment facility for three months because her job forced her due to her low weight (which makes me think she's anorexic, but does binge-purge too). She also showed me the scars on her arms from when she tried to kill herself (and the cuts were done the "correct" way). I told her that even though I didn't know her, I cared if she died...and if I care, she needed to imagine how many other people cared, including the guy waiting for her upstairs.
We talked about a lot of other things, all eating disorder related. I don't want to get into them. But I do worry for this girl. She wanted me phone number, so I texted her while we were still at Great Lakes. I texted her later that night, but got no response. I am genuinely worried about her. I do care what happens to her.
It was not all that long ago that I was a complete and utter disaster. It wasn't long ago that I regained my ability to discern healthy reality. Heck, there are literally days at a time where I still lose that ability (Tues & Wed of this week!)and I just try to ride them out without freaking out on anyone or myself. But I now (mostly) know when I've lost touch with a healthy reality. This girl can't see that. And I could so easily be this girl.
"No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main. If a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less, as well as if promontory were, as well as if a manor of thy friend's or of thine own were. Any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind; and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee." ~John Donne, Meditation XVII
Monday, May 17, 2010
Ice Cream Binge
Three bowls of ice cream. I don't know why. I had a successful day. By my standards I got lots accomplished & didn't feel particularly weird. But 8 pm came around, I flipped on the tv, drank a glass of white wine and three bowls of ice cream later I finally stopped. Now I actually do feel off. But I don't know if that's because of the binge or if the binge is because deep down I felt off. Could this be a post-stress binge? Is there such a thing?
This past weekend I was in FL for one of my brother's law school graduation. Also in town were my other brother, my mom & dad (divorced) and my husband. My dad flirted with my mom to the point that we were all embarrassed. My mom flirted a bit back and was her usual kind-self. The more my dad drank, the more embarrassing it all was...and he seemed to think he needed to drink to be cool or have the nerve to flirt or something. It was upsetting. The more they are together, the less I like it. If my dad wasn't married with an 8yr old son, maybe I wouldn't care so much. But he's not getting divorced, my half-brother deserves to have his parents together even if his mom is mean to his dad, and my parents potentially getting back together now isn't going to help my screwed up childhood and perceptions.
I'm not so angry anymore, but I remember at this same brother's undergrad graduation in 2004 when my parents were civil to one another for the FIRST time since they got divorced in 1989, I was pissed at them. How could they have finally grown up enough to now to civil to one another? Why couldn't they have worked on this in 1989 or earlier instead of the choices they made? When I asked my aunt these questions she said, "Why honey...don't you know?"
"Know what?" I asked.
"They got married because of you. They were pregnant with you."
I remember my husband's shocked laughter that I had no idea. I protested...but what can you do when your parents decided to lie to you as a child and claim they were married in 1979 instead of 1980? My mom didn't look pregnant in any pictures, so there was no physical evidence to contradict their lies.
I'm sure all parents make their kids a little crazy. By and large I like mine, and of course love them. But I keep them at a distance...both physical (I live, at minimum, 4-5 hours from one and 10-11 from the other) and emotional (I might talk to them once per week). I will probably need to find a way to deal with this b/c as I type I realize how complex these issues are for me.
I held it all in and kept it all together for the weekend. I guess that now that I'm home alone (husband stayed in FL for business and is still chilling with my family) and all my duties were fulfilled this evening, I just stuffed back down a flood of feelings I've been having since Thursday. I'm actually a little surprised at myself. I knew I felt antsy and a bit freaked before I left and I was certainly on edge while there, but I thought it was done and over with. Apparently it took me three bowls of ice cream to realize there is something still bothering me. The ice cream binge certainly didn't solve the problem, but it made me face myself and begin to consider what issues I was trying to avoid.
This past weekend I was in FL for one of my brother's law school graduation. Also in town were my other brother, my mom & dad (divorced) and my husband. My dad flirted with my mom to the point that we were all embarrassed. My mom flirted a bit back and was her usual kind-self. The more my dad drank, the more embarrassing it all was...and he seemed to think he needed to drink to be cool or have the nerve to flirt or something. It was upsetting. The more they are together, the less I like it. If my dad wasn't married with an 8yr old son, maybe I wouldn't care so much. But he's not getting divorced, my half-brother deserves to have his parents together even if his mom is mean to his dad, and my parents potentially getting back together now isn't going to help my screwed up childhood and perceptions.
I'm not so angry anymore, but I remember at this same brother's undergrad graduation in 2004 when my parents were civil to one another for the FIRST time since they got divorced in 1989, I was pissed at them. How could they have finally grown up enough to now to civil to one another? Why couldn't they have worked on this in 1989 or earlier instead of the choices they made? When I asked my aunt these questions she said, "Why honey...don't you know?"
"Know what?" I asked.
"They got married because of you. They were pregnant with you."
I remember my husband's shocked laughter that I had no idea. I protested...but what can you do when your parents decided to lie to you as a child and claim they were married in 1979 instead of 1980? My mom didn't look pregnant in any pictures, so there was no physical evidence to contradict their lies.
I'm sure all parents make their kids a little crazy. By and large I like mine, and of course love them. But I keep them at a distance...both physical (I live, at minimum, 4-5 hours from one and 10-11 from the other) and emotional (I might talk to them once per week). I will probably need to find a way to deal with this b/c as I type I realize how complex these issues are for me.
I held it all in and kept it all together for the weekend. I guess that now that I'm home alone (husband stayed in FL for business and is still chilling with my family) and all my duties were fulfilled this evening, I just stuffed back down a flood of feelings I've been having since Thursday. I'm actually a little surprised at myself. I knew I felt antsy and a bit freaked before I left and I was certainly on edge while there, but I thought it was done and over with. Apparently it took me three bowls of ice cream to realize there is something still bothering me. The ice cream binge certainly didn't solve the problem, but it made me face myself and begin to consider what issues I was trying to avoid.
Monday, May 10, 2010
Trending Toward Crazy
Compared to all the horrible things around the world, my day wasn't bad. But for me, it was a series of little things that eroded my self-confidence, ate at my peace, and sent me a little over the edge.
I felt fat. This happens to many people (and probably all women), but I realized that I've just started to trust myself again with judging how I look. At some point between being diagnosed and actually getting help, I realized that I could not look at myself and make any real determinations as to whether or not an outfit was flattering or if I "looked good." I purposefully stopped trying to make those judgments and focused on looking professional. I think that I've been slowly letting myself judge my appearance and today I was mean. I felt fat and I decided I looked fat. So even though I was wearing a cashmere sweater I like, pants I've felt good in before, and jewelry my husband bought me, I felt like I looked like a train wreck. Not a good way to start the day.
Then my hair conspired against me and got static-electricity crazy. This annoys me to no end, especially when I took the time to blow dry it. I forgot a hair tie, so the static was clinging to my face all day long, taunting me.
My work laptop went into a deadly tailspin and crashed into oblivion by 9 am. It was taken away by the tech crew and shipped to Dell (or somewhere) for repair. But that stupid computer has died and been resurrected 4 times in 2 years--it was just not going to happen today. Now I have to use a MacBook, which is a brand new thing that I am not crazy about. I don't want to learn how to use an Apple at the end of the school year--it's stressing me out.
Work itself was otherwise not too bad and I did get some great grading done, but in my mindset today I never gave myself credit for that.
I had a meeting after school, had to pick up/drop off dry cleaning (or else the skirt I want for my brother's graduation won't be clean), and found myself so frustrated on the road that I was screaming at other drivers (I am assuming they couldn't hear me...). When I got home and saw that it was already 5 pm, I was near tears. I hadn't called the lawn guy to tell him we aren't using him and that was bothering me b/c I'm scared to call. Also, my husband hadn't cut our lawn over the weekend, so it is still a disaster. On top of that, I have a feeling I was distorting some things my husband said about our relationship, so I was stressing and letting that run through my mind.
All these things felt overwhelming and impossible to overcome. I didn't feel like I could face anything. In total calories it wasn't much of a binge. But in my insane emotions, it totally was. I ate a bowl of chocolate ice cream and peanut butter, in bed, and then made myself take a nap. Every time the phone rang, I'd silence it and wished I could shut out the world. I had a nightmare about my dad, stepmom, and tacky patio furniture they bought. I woke up mad that I couldn't keep sleeping--that I had to face the remainder of the day. So, I ate an avocado.
Eventually my husband came home and I talked to him about some of this stuff. In talking to him I realized that I'm also very anxious about seeing my family again in this upcoming weekend. I think maybe that fear/anxiety is pushing my feelings over the edge so everything else takes on more importance than it should. Regardless, I am certainly trending toward crazy. I am just hopeful that I can make it until my counseling appointment on Wednesday.
I felt fat. This happens to many people (and probably all women), but I realized that I've just started to trust myself again with judging how I look. At some point between being diagnosed and actually getting help, I realized that I could not look at myself and make any real determinations as to whether or not an outfit was flattering or if I "looked good." I purposefully stopped trying to make those judgments and focused on looking professional. I think that I've been slowly letting myself judge my appearance and today I was mean. I felt fat and I decided I looked fat. So even though I was wearing a cashmere sweater I like, pants I've felt good in before, and jewelry my husband bought me, I felt like I looked like a train wreck. Not a good way to start the day.
Then my hair conspired against me and got static-electricity crazy. This annoys me to no end, especially when I took the time to blow dry it. I forgot a hair tie, so the static was clinging to my face all day long, taunting me.
My work laptop went into a deadly tailspin and crashed into oblivion by 9 am. It was taken away by the tech crew and shipped to Dell (or somewhere) for repair. But that stupid computer has died and been resurrected 4 times in 2 years--it was just not going to happen today. Now I have to use a MacBook, which is a brand new thing that I am not crazy about. I don't want to learn how to use an Apple at the end of the school year--it's stressing me out.
Work itself was otherwise not too bad and I did get some great grading done, but in my mindset today I never gave myself credit for that.
I had a meeting after school, had to pick up/drop off dry cleaning (or else the skirt I want for my brother's graduation won't be clean), and found myself so frustrated on the road that I was screaming at other drivers (I am assuming they couldn't hear me...). When I got home and saw that it was already 5 pm, I was near tears. I hadn't called the lawn guy to tell him we aren't using him and that was bothering me b/c I'm scared to call. Also, my husband hadn't cut our lawn over the weekend, so it is still a disaster. On top of that, I have a feeling I was distorting some things my husband said about our relationship, so I was stressing and letting that run through my mind.
All these things felt overwhelming and impossible to overcome. I didn't feel like I could face anything. In total calories it wasn't much of a binge. But in my insane emotions, it totally was. I ate a bowl of chocolate ice cream and peanut butter, in bed, and then made myself take a nap. Every time the phone rang, I'd silence it and wished I could shut out the world. I had a nightmare about my dad, stepmom, and tacky patio furniture they bought. I woke up mad that I couldn't keep sleeping--that I had to face the remainder of the day. So, I ate an avocado.
Eventually my husband came home and I talked to him about some of this stuff. In talking to him I realized that I'm also very anxious about seeing my family again in this upcoming weekend. I think maybe that fear/anxiety is pushing my feelings over the edge so everything else takes on more importance than it should. Regardless, I am certainly trending toward crazy. I am just hopeful that I can make it until my counseling appointment on Wednesday.
Saturday, May 8, 2010
Unhealthy Substitutions?
Ever since I was diagnosed with BED I've wondered if, in overcoming one problem, I would pick up another--mainly alcoholism. I like alcohol and I drink on a fairly regular basis. It's available, like food, and it's socially acceptable (until you reach the point of alcoholism). I have on very few occasions drank more than is reasonable. I've decided, though, that the answer to this query is no.
For starters, going to counseling continues to teach me healthy and mature ways to deal with binging. I'm substituting disordered thoughts/behaviors with healthy behaviors--and over time I'm building healthy thinking, as well. This is working out surprisingly well for me. I truly like the improvements in my life and the person I am becoming. I don't feel (emotionally or logically) like substituting one unhealthy behavior (alcohol abuse) for another unhealthy behavior (BED).
Secondly, while I greatly enjoy the flavor profile of many types of adult beverages, I don't like being drunk. I don't enjoy my head hurting, rooms spinning, waking up congested or throwing up. I might have eaten my way to the point of making myself ill and been okay with that sickly-satisfying feeling of absolute fullness, but I really hate anything that makes my head, sinuses, throat or face hurt (hence why I'm awake and typing at 4:35 am b/c of my allergies). Alcohol hurts my head-region and that's just not cool. So, alcohol doesn't bring me the satisfaction or "right" kind of oblivion that I got from binge eating and would make a poor substitute.
Alcoholism runs in my family. It's a legitimate concern for me. I will continue to monitor myself for this and other destructive behaviors. But I am pleased to know that after searching myself, I can honestly and confidently say that I will not be substituting alcohol for binge eating. Another little victory--and I'll take those anywhere I can get them!
For starters, going to counseling continues to teach me healthy and mature ways to deal with binging. I'm substituting disordered thoughts/behaviors with healthy behaviors--and over time I'm building healthy thinking, as well. This is working out surprisingly well for me. I truly like the improvements in my life and the person I am becoming. I don't feel (emotionally or logically) like substituting one unhealthy behavior (alcohol abuse) for another unhealthy behavior (BED).
Secondly, while I greatly enjoy the flavor profile of many types of adult beverages, I don't like being drunk. I don't enjoy my head hurting, rooms spinning, waking up congested or throwing up. I might have eaten my way to the point of making myself ill and been okay with that sickly-satisfying feeling of absolute fullness, but I really hate anything that makes my head, sinuses, throat or face hurt (hence why I'm awake and typing at 4:35 am b/c of my allergies). Alcohol hurts my head-region and that's just not cool. So, alcohol doesn't bring me the satisfaction or "right" kind of oblivion that I got from binge eating and would make a poor substitute.
Alcoholism runs in my family. It's a legitimate concern for me. I will continue to monitor myself for this and other destructive behaviors. But I am pleased to know that after searching myself, I can honestly and confidently say that I will not be substituting alcohol for binge eating. Another little victory--and I'll take those anywhere I can get them!
The Yard
I woke up a little after 2 am with images of my unkempt yard running through my head. Maybe if my allergies weren't so horrendous right now, I could have calmed myself down and gone back to bed. The sneezing and running nose were not conducive to calm though, and the anxiety built.
One of the differences between now and last year or basically any other year in my adult life, is that I am overcoming some major fears to try to deal with this anxiety, which often leads me to binge. For one, my husband gave the go-ahead on hiring someone to mow the lawn. That's HUGE b/c he does not value landscaping and has protested for years about paying someone to mow. My job was to call companies & get estimates. This is where another fear of mine manifests itself. I dread talking to people I don't know on the phone (and sometimes I get in a funk and dread talking on the phone to people I do know). When I was little, I was paralyzed with fear and couldn't call to order a pizza or make a hair appointment. By college, when of course one has to be able to order a pizza on the phone, I would write down all the information that I would be required to give before I even made the call. Yes, I literally wrote down my name, my phone number, my address and what kind of pizza I wanted. If I didn't do that, I would completely blank when asked those very simple questions.
I don't remember when it started, but sometime in my mid-20s calling businesses scared me so much that I couldn't do it until I had binged. And then frequently I still wouldn't call. So day after day I would binge to "get the courage" to call and then I would pass out and when I woke up, I'd reason that the business was closed and I'd have to try again tomorrow. Many, many things did not get done in a reasonable amount of time. A little over a year ago a tree fell in my side yard and I quickly got the name of a reputable tree-guy from a friend. Then I didn't call. Spring, summer, fall, winter, spring...finally, this late April I called. You know what? I called without binging. I was scared out of my mind. I did put off calling for weeks once the thought that, "hey, I need to freaking take care of this dead tree" entered my mind. But I didn't binge before I called and I actually called.
That's a triumph. I should be proud of that. I have been beating myself up for not calling about something I should have taken care of a year ago. But, I had to overcome an almost debilitating fear to make this happen. A fear that since childhood has gone from not-calling at all, to binging and then maybe calling, to binging and calling, to just being anxious and then calling. That's freaking progress!
On to the yard...my current enemy. I have been calling lawn services. Literally, I have been looking up companies/numbers online and in the phone book (both of which, by the way, suck...I feel like I might need to take a day off from work and creep through neighborhoods, write down the names of these lawn service providers b/c they are stenciled on the side of their trucks, but not in the yellow pages!). Then I call. And I've done it without binging and relatively reduced anxiety. My new problem is that 1) the company doesn't come "all the way out" to Cleveland Heights (and these are East Side companies!). 2)No one answers the phone, I leave a message, no one calls back. 3)Three companies actually talk to me, promise to come evaluate the property & give me an estimate, but then they don't follow through. 4) The only company to supply a quote wanted $315 a month to mow the lawn, plus they wanted fertilizer put down at $90/month, plus they needed to "spring clean" it first ($450), plus they wanted $150 for the first mow. Yea...that's not happening. At those prices (which don't include tidying the beds or trimming bushes/trees), we'd be spending more on our lawn this growing season than on our heating. That's just ludicrous.
However, because they were the only company to give me a quote, I wanted to go with them...until my husband and I talked. The thought of having to call the other companies and ask them why they haven't called back freaks me out for a couple reasons. 1) I just got over my fear and called them, but now I have to call again?! 2)It's a business! They should be calling me back. Do they have so much work that they just can't find the time to get more work or even call to say they're all booked up?
I need to call though. I can't keep waking up in the middle of the night with visions of my tall grass, overgrown flower beds, and ivy beds where I can't see the ivy anymore b/c of weeds (or are those trees?). I also don't want to stay locked in my house anymore. At some point this spring, I decided that my yard was too gross for me to be outside b/c the neighbors might make comments about it to me. (They have in the past, so this fear isn't completely neurotic.) But I'm tired of not going out. I finally articulated this to my husband tonight and he agreed to mow the lawn this weekend.
Had I not spoken up about my emotions, I know I would have binged. Calling the companies was staving that off b/c I believed that the problem would be solved soon. But knowing that I have a long way to go in this hiring process was frustrating, discouraging, and scary. My response to my husband balking at the high estimate was 100% emotional. Rather than pick a fight, (well almost...there was some heated discussion until I did a mental check on myself) I articulated my fear for the first time. Actually explaining what I felt (my home is my self-imposed prison) allowed my husband to respond in love and agree to cut the grass.
He's changing too in regard to his responses to me. I believe that in the past he would have argued that my fear and the rules I created to control it (stay in house until lawn is mowed or binge to get the courage to call) was illogical (it is, I know, but right now that's ok). Now that I can actually express my feelings, and do so before a major argument breaks out, he responds positively. I can't think of an instance where he shot me down or trampled on my feelings when I talked to him. He is consistently affirming my right to have feelings and respecting them, even when they don't make sense to him. This, in turn, allows me to feel less scared and I believe that it is slowly allowing me to overcome my fears. If I had not begun the journey of getting in touch with my emotions, figuring out how they lead to binging and other behaviors, and had the courage to express what I felt, there is no way I would be able to call about the dead trees or the lawn. I know my fears are tied up with my binging. As each fear is faced, binging has a weaker hold on me. Likewise, as I am able to let go of the binging, my fears have decreased. This might be circular logic, but it works. :-)
One of the differences between now and last year or basically any other year in my adult life, is that I am overcoming some major fears to try to deal with this anxiety, which often leads me to binge. For one, my husband gave the go-ahead on hiring someone to mow the lawn. That's HUGE b/c he does not value landscaping and has protested for years about paying someone to mow. My job was to call companies & get estimates. This is where another fear of mine manifests itself. I dread talking to people I don't know on the phone (and sometimes I get in a funk and dread talking on the phone to people I do know). When I was little, I was paralyzed with fear and couldn't call to order a pizza or make a hair appointment. By college, when of course one has to be able to order a pizza on the phone, I would write down all the information that I would be required to give before I even made the call. Yes, I literally wrote down my name, my phone number, my address and what kind of pizza I wanted. If I didn't do that, I would completely blank when asked those very simple questions.
I don't remember when it started, but sometime in my mid-20s calling businesses scared me so much that I couldn't do it until I had binged. And then frequently I still wouldn't call. So day after day I would binge to "get the courage" to call and then I would pass out and when I woke up, I'd reason that the business was closed and I'd have to try again tomorrow. Many, many things did not get done in a reasonable amount of time. A little over a year ago a tree fell in my side yard and I quickly got the name of a reputable tree-guy from a friend. Then I didn't call. Spring, summer, fall, winter, spring...finally, this late April I called. You know what? I called without binging. I was scared out of my mind. I did put off calling for weeks once the thought that, "hey, I need to freaking take care of this dead tree" entered my mind. But I didn't binge before I called and I actually called.
That's a triumph. I should be proud of that. I have been beating myself up for not calling about something I should have taken care of a year ago. But, I had to overcome an almost debilitating fear to make this happen. A fear that since childhood has gone from not-calling at all, to binging and then maybe calling, to binging and calling, to just being anxious and then calling. That's freaking progress!
On to the yard...my current enemy. I have been calling lawn services. Literally, I have been looking up companies/numbers online and in the phone book (both of which, by the way, suck...I feel like I might need to take a day off from work and creep through neighborhoods, write down the names of these lawn service providers b/c they are stenciled on the side of their trucks, but not in the yellow pages!). Then I call. And I've done it without binging and relatively reduced anxiety. My new problem is that 1) the company doesn't come "all the way out" to Cleveland Heights (and these are East Side companies!). 2)No one answers the phone, I leave a message, no one calls back. 3)Three companies actually talk to me, promise to come evaluate the property & give me an estimate, but then they don't follow through. 4) The only company to supply a quote wanted $315 a month to mow the lawn, plus they wanted fertilizer put down at $90/month, plus they needed to "spring clean" it first ($450), plus they wanted $150 for the first mow. Yea...that's not happening. At those prices (which don't include tidying the beds or trimming bushes/trees), we'd be spending more on our lawn this growing season than on our heating. That's just ludicrous.
However, because they were the only company to give me a quote, I wanted to go with them...until my husband and I talked. The thought of having to call the other companies and ask them why they haven't called back freaks me out for a couple reasons. 1) I just got over my fear and called them, but now I have to call again?! 2)It's a business! They should be calling me back. Do they have so much work that they just can't find the time to get more work or even call to say they're all booked up?
I need to call though. I can't keep waking up in the middle of the night with visions of my tall grass, overgrown flower beds, and ivy beds where I can't see the ivy anymore b/c of weeds (or are those trees?). I also don't want to stay locked in my house anymore. At some point this spring, I decided that my yard was too gross for me to be outside b/c the neighbors might make comments about it to me. (They have in the past, so this fear isn't completely neurotic.) But I'm tired of not going out. I finally articulated this to my husband tonight and he agreed to mow the lawn this weekend.
Had I not spoken up about my emotions, I know I would have binged. Calling the companies was staving that off b/c I believed that the problem would be solved soon. But knowing that I have a long way to go in this hiring process was frustrating, discouraging, and scary. My response to my husband balking at the high estimate was 100% emotional. Rather than pick a fight, (well almost...there was some heated discussion until I did a mental check on myself) I articulated my fear for the first time. Actually explaining what I felt (my home is my self-imposed prison) allowed my husband to respond in love and agree to cut the grass.
He's changing too in regard to his responses to me. I believe that in the past he would have argued that my fear and the rules I created to control it (stay in house until lawn is mowed or binge to get the courage to call) was illogical (it is, I know, but right now that's ok). Now that I can actually express my feelings, and do so before a major argument breaks out, he responds positively. I can't think of an instance where he shot me down or trampled on my feelings when I talked to him. He is consistently affirming my right to have feelings and respecting them, even when they don't make sense to him. This, in turn, allows me to feel less scared and I believe that it is slowly allowing me to overcome my fears. If I had not begun the journey of getting in touch with my emotions, figuring out how they lead to binging and other behaviors, and had the courage to express what I felt, there is no way I would be able to call about the dead trees or the lawn. I know my fears are tied up with my binging. As each fear is faced, binging has a weaker hold on me. Likewise, as I am able to let go of the binging, my fears have decreased. This might be circular logic, but it works. :-)
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
It's been awhile
I haven't written in awhile and I think that's partly for a few reasons. One, I've been going to counseling and I get a fair amount of my angst, anxiety, fears, and problems out in the open then. Two, I had to work on writing my feelings for the day in a journal and while that may sound like a simple act, I needed to focus my attention on that (and just recognizing my feelings in general). Three, life just got a little crazy and since I was/am a bit worried about the whole public aspects of a blog, I let it take a backseat in my life. Fourth, I've been traveling--spring break in Belgium, a beer release in Indiana, visiting family in other cities, etc. Fifth, I'm trying to focus on my marriage more, which means a concerted effort on my part to not fall into the easy, old habits of being online instead of interacting with my husband (he's away on business today).
So, are those enough excuses?! :-)
The blog wasn't far from my heart though (just like all the emails I've written in my head to my friends...sorry those haven't made it past my head yet). So, I'd like to get back to writing a bit.
Yesterday my binge eating disorder came up at lunch b/c of an innocent question that a colleague asked me. I feel comfortable/confident talking about eating disorders, in general, and I'm comfortable talking about my own BED, if someone else brings it up (this is b/c it's not exactly a conversation topic everyone can participate in & it can make others uncomfortable, so I don't just start a conversation about this topic). One thing that I am trying to be understanding about is the response I get when I'm asked what BED is and I explain it. Maybe I just do a terrible job explaining it, but afterward I sometimes find people telling me things like, "I find that if I go home I'll graze on food between work and dinner. So, I try to find activities to do so I don't graze." Or, "I know what it feels like to be stuffed." Or, "Yeah, I try to watch what I eat, but I eat more than I should." Sometimes I just want to yell them, "BED is NOT overeating (either once-in-awhile or consistently)!!!"
I have come to believe that they either willfully gloss over the psychological aspect of BED (and the reason it IS BED and not overeating)or they simply can't comprehend the psychological component. Truth be told, I don't often bear my soul (and history)about this to my colleagues, acquaintances, and not even really my friends. So, I guess explaining BED logically doesn't quite give them the picture and apparently telling them that "I used to go home and devour as much food as I could until I made myself feel physically ill and would pass out from my food-high for a couple hours, then wake up and fix/eat dinner as if everything was normal, and then buy more food the next day and eat it down to the level of food from the previous day so that no one would know I ate anything" doesn't seem to register as problematic.
Maybe it's just that until a person uses food as punishment (b/c even rewarding myself with food led to punishing binges where I made myself feel sick), they don't get it. (Or maybe they just need a huge dose of empathy.) At my core, I used food as a crutch or band-aid for all my hurt and disappointment. I also used food to abuse and hurt myself for all the failures and fears that I believed I had. I used food to silence myself from thinking and speaking. At my core, I did not believe I was worthwhile. I beat the s$*% out of myself through eating food. And since February, I've gotten serious about wanting this self-abuse to stop. But stopping the abuse that I inflict upon myself with a substance that I actually NEED, is really hard. Maybe that makes my abuse just a little more ridiculous--I can never just stop abusing this substance the way an alcoholic or drug addict can (which is also terribly difficult to stop--so that's not a dis on the hard work they have to do). I HAVE to learn how to coexist and still consume food.
On the plus side, and perhaps this really is fortunate, for me to overcome BED I MUST deal with the underlying psychological issues. Perhaps an alcoholic can walk away from alcohol and still not face her problems (although I imagine that would not make for the most fruitful sobriety). I can't walk away from food. So, if I want to get better, I have to face me.
I thought I knew me. But what I've found through counseling and reading is that I know a distorted version of me. I am starting to know and see myself with a better view because the distortions in my mind are slowly being called into question, examined, found lacking, kicked out and replaced with a healthy view of myself. As my view of myself changes, as I become truly accepting of me and can articulate that to others, I find myself slowly healing in my relationship with food. The end result of this is going to be awesome.
So, are those enough excuses?! :-)
The blog wasn't far from my heart though (just like all the emails I've written in my head to my friends...sorry those haven't made it past my head yet). So, I'd like to get back to writing a bit.
Yesterday my binge eating disorder came up at lunch b/c of an innocent question that a colleague asked me. I feel comfortable/confident talking about eating disorders, in general, and I'm comfortable talking about my own BED, if someone else brings it up (this is b/c it's not exactly a conversation topic everyone can participate in & it can make others uncomfortable, so I don't just start a conversation about this topic). One thing that I am trying to be understanding about is the response I get when I'm asked what BED is and I explain it. Maybe I just do a terrible job explaining it, but afterward I sometimes find people telling me things like, "I find that if I go home I'll graze on food between work and dinner. So, I try to find activities to do so I don't graze." Or, "I know what it feels like to be stuffed." Or, "Yeah, I try to watch what I eat, but I eat more than I should." Sometimes I just want to yell them, "BED is NOT overeating (either once-in-awhile or consistently)!!!"
I have come to believe that they either willfully gloss over the psychological aspect of BED (and the reason it IS BED and not overeating)or they simply can't comprehend the psychological component. Truth be told, I don't often bear my soul (and history)about this to my colleagues, acquaintances, and not even really my friends. So, I guess explaining BED logically doesn't quite give them the picture and apparently telling them that "I used to go home and devour as much food as I could until I made myself feel physically ill and would pass out from my food-high for a couple hours, then wake up and fix/eat dinner as if everything was normal, and then buy more food the next day and eat it down to the level of food from the previous day so that no one would know I ate anything" doesn't seem to register as problematic.
Maybe it's just that until a person uses food as punishment (b/c even rewarding myself with food led to punishing binges where I made myself feel sick), they don't get it. (Or maybe they just need a huge dose of empathy.) At my core, I used food as a crutch or band-aid for all my hurt and disappointment. I also used food to abuse and hurt myself for all the failures and fears that I believed I had. I used food to silence myself from thinking and speaking. At my core, I did not believe I was worthwhile. I beat the s$*% out of myself through eating food. And since February, I've gotten serious about wanting this self-abuse to stop. But stopping the abuse that I inflict upon myself with a substance that I actually NEED, is really hard. Maybe that makes my abuse just a little more ridiculous--I can never just stop abusing this substance the way an alcoholic or drug addict can (which is also terribly difficult to stop--so that's not a dis on the hard work they have to do). I HAVE to learn how to coexist and still consume food.
On the plus side, and perhaps this really is fortunate, for me to overcome BED I MUST deal with the underlying psychological issues. Perhaps an alcoholic can walk away from alcohol and still not face her problems (although I imagine that would not make for the most fruitful sobriety). I can't walk away from food. So, if I want to get better, I have to face me.
I thought I knew me. But what I've found through counseling and reading is that I know a distorted version of me. I am starting to know and see myself with a better view because the distortions in my mind are slowly being called into question, examined, found lacking, kicked out and replaced with a healthy view of myself. As my view of myself changes, as I become truly accepting of me and can articulate that to others, I find myself slowly healing in my relationship with food. The end result of this is going to be awesome.
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