Unfortunately, a lot about healing involves actually having to hurt again. This means talking about things in therapy that I just don't like to talk about. Once of those things I don't like to talk about is my family and my relationships with just about every single one of them. I think it would be fair to say that this can be a painful thing for everyone to have to go through at some point so people know what I'm talking about when I say this.
So, family comes up often. Now, since most of my therapy involves my binge eating, family and my relationship with food comes up often. You know, every visit. One of the things I talked about with my therapist was how growing up there never seemed to be a lot of food in the house. The fridge was never full, nor were the cabinets. It seemed even worse after my parents were divorced because money was very tight for reasons I wont even go into here because it has nothing to do with this blog, but there was definitely less food in the house after my parents split.
Now, as a child I was always comparing what I had to what everyone else had. I don't know why or when this started to happen, but I had friends who always had way more food in their kitchens, or toys in their bedrooms or clothes in their closets. There was even one boy, I recall, in third grade who went out of his way to point out to me that we were poor, his parents bought him way more new clothes for him for the first day of school than mine did and I was a loser. Thanks for that, Jason, I still remember who you are. That might have been the start of the cycle, but since I'm not sure, I'm not going to commit to it.
Anyway, as I got older, it always stressed me out there was never anything in the house to eat. It always felt like this to me. When I got my first job when I was 15, you can bet most of my paycheck usually went to eating or food of some type, because this is what I believed. There was never any food in the house. Imagine going on for most of your life with this thought that there is hardly ever food in your house and that you're really poor and can't afford to keep your fridge stocked. Stressful for a kid, right?
Imagine thinking this is true up through your adult years and struggling with eating and weight problems because of it. Yeah, it sucks. My relationship with food is so unhealthy because of it. I feel like I can't stop eating at a meal if there is still food on my plate, even if I'm not hungry anymore, because what if there is no more food later? Doesn't matter that I know there is food later. It's not like I'm actually thinking this, really, it's just this underlying stress that it always there so when I'm eating, I'm actually stressed out. Yeah. When I'm eating. Normally.
Now, I know this blog is less than two weeks old, but I've gone from rarely thinking about things outside of therapy to keeping a blog on a daily basis and thinking about therapy related things constantly and I came to a startling realization. We weren't short on food when I was a kid. Even when my parents split and money was tight, there was always food in the house. Hell, I never went to school without breakfast unless I chose to skip it, mom always had lunch money for me as long as I didn't forget to ask for it and every damn night that woman had something on the table for me for dinner. It sure as hell might not have been steak, but it was food and it wasn't terrible and it was usually healthy. Mom wasn't a health nut, but she wasn't a junk food fan.
She made sure there were fresh vegetables and fruits and most of the meat in the house was usually chicken because that was inexpensive. So what was I thinking? Well, the house wasn't stocked with junk food. Money just wasn't wasted on crap like that, because money was tight. And maybe we were struggling but we weren't starving and we definitely weren't poor. There were people doing much worse than us.
What it doesn't fix is years of warped perspective brought on by outside influence. However, it does give me something to think about as I'm working on changing my behavior going forward. It also helps me work on playing the blame game with my parents for my current condition. I'm sure I'll find some other way to do that in the future, but I'm working on one thing at a time.
So, before I go, I would just like to say one final thing. To the little boy who I never forgot that said hurtful and hateful things to me because you thought you were better than I was simply because you had more money: I hope you didn't grow up to be that way as an adult. My heart hurts for you if you turned out to be that type of person.
Have a great weekend everyone.
Friday, July 30, 2010
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Did You Get Enough to Eat?
Recently I've been having this conversation with a friend about how my husband always asks me about my dinner and it drives me crazy and makes me extremely uncomfortable. It's always made me uncomfortable because even before I knew of binge eating, I had the weight problem so I did not like talking about the food or eating the food.
The questions were innocent enough:
However, they drove me crazy. Just stop asking and let me eat my meal in peace because you are irritating the crap out of me and making me even more self conscious than I already am. It got to the point that I even asked him to stop asking. He would forget, I would politely remind him not to ask me again. Wash, rinse, repeat.
Now, I could just be remembering incorrectly but I recall when growing up in New York, it didn't seem to matter who we had dinner with - Mom, Nana and Grandpa, Dad, Uncle and Aunt, you get the idea - that you sat down, mentioned how good everything smelled and ate while having some sort of conversation. At the end of the meal, everyone then made it a point to mention the meal was great or how they really enjoyed a specific dish. No one was bothering anyone two seconds after taking a bite and asking how the food was.
Back to my conversation with my friend, who can both commiserate that she dislikes when this happens to her then admits that she does the same thing to her family which drew from me a hearty laugh. She goes on to point out that it may be a Southern thing. Both she and my husband are from southern states while I grew up so close to the Canadian border I could toss a rock at it would almost reach.
Cultural differences? Would that be a correct term in this instance? I believe it applies. It gave me something to think about, and to laugh about because my friend explained when it is she doing the asking, it just comes out. The question is just part of the ritual of mealtime without really giving it much thought despite how it makes her feel when she's asked. Though even without her telling me that, I've figured out that he just does this and it isn't malicious nor is it when she asks, or when her family asks.
I did end up asking him if this was a common question in his house, since I could only vaguely recall experiencing it once or twice while I had visited my mother-in-law in the past. He said it was.
Well, the issue is my own and something I need to work on. There is no reason for me to let food stress me out or the innocent questions that are posed to me about it. I will go ahead and remind myself the next time my husband asks me how my food is that it's ok to answer him that my food is ok instead of getting upset over it and let it go so I don't get upset or possibly angry about it later. This will just take a little bit of work.
P.S. Are you sure you got enough to eat? Because I have plenty more...
The questions were innocent enough:
"How's the food?"
"Did you get enough to eat?"
"Would you like some more?"
However, they drove me crazy. Just stop asking and let me eat my meal in peace because you are irritating the crap out of me and making me even more self conscious than I already am. It got to the point that I even asked him to stop asking. He would forget, I would politely remind him not to ask me again. Wash, rinse, repeat.
Now, I could just be remembering incorrectly but I recall when growing up in New York, it didn't seem to matter who we had dinner with - Mom, Nana and Grandpa, Dad, Uncle and Aunt, you get the idea - that you sat down, mentioned how good everything smelled and ate while having some sort of conversation. At the end of the meal, everyone then made it a point to mention the meal was great or how they really enjoyed a specific dish. No one was bothering anyone two seconds after taking a bite and asking how the food was.
Back to my conversation with my friend, who can both commiserate that she dislikes when this happens to her then admits that she does the same thing to her family which drew from me a hearty laugh. She goes on to point out that it may be a Southern thing. Both she and my husband are from southern states while I grew up so close to the Canadian border I could toss a rock at it would almost reach.
Cultural differences? Would that be a correct term in this instance? I believe it applies. It gave me something to think about, and to laugh about because my friend explained when it is she doing the asking, it just comes out. The question is just part of the ritual of mealtime without really giving it much thought despite how it makes her feel when she's asked. Though even without her telling me that, I've figured out that he just does this and it isn't malicious nor is it when she asks, or when her family asks.
I did end up asking him if this was a common question in his house, since I could only vaguely recall experiencing it once or twice while I had visited my mother-in-law in the past. He said it was.
Well, the issue is my own and something I need to work on. There is no reason for me to let food stress me out or the innocent questions that are posed to me about it. I will go ahead and remind myself the next time my husband asks me how my food is that it's ok to answer him that my food is ok instead of getting upset over it and let it go so I don't get upset or possibly angry about it later. This will just take a little bit of work.
P.S. Are you sure you got enough to eat? Because I have plenty more...
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
My Favorite Five Letter Word
During the first several weeks of my therapy sessions, my therapist would say to me that I had to learn to love myself. This phrase would incite such anger that if I could be the almighty Zeus, I would hurl my bolts of lightning down upon the Earth from where I stand on Mt. Olympus and lay waste to all of mankind. Really, I loathed hearing those words from her.
She also gave me reasons why but I'll admit to being too angry to listen to what they were at the time, though I'm sure we'll talk about it again in the future. Every week though, she would say it. Finally, I was so furious and so sick of hearing it, I snapped at her and said, "Stop telling me to love myself! It's not going to happen. There is currently nothing about myself to love. Maybe when the weight is off, I'll feel differently, but right now it's not going to happen."
She asked me, "Do you know how many times I was able to ask you that before you finally told me to stop? I've been counting. Have you? Five."
I didn't get the point. I still don't know what the point is because I have a long way to go with my therapy and I can't figure it all out at once. However, the number of times was apparently five and she never brought it up again. My point is anger was getting in the way of me understanding something about myself.
Yes, I'm only figuring this out now but what made me realize it was the hospital visit on Saturday and my visit with Dr. Douchebag (name changed to protect the misguided). When he left the room and I was putting my sock back on my foot, I suddenly chose to let go of my anger and use that moment as a motivational reminder that I can do this even if he didn't think I could. Recognizing that I could let go of anger was an incredible feeling. Empowering, even!
Ok, there is a slight problem now. I can't get it back. I have been angry since then about other things and I don't know how to stop being angry about everything and I don't know how to let go of that emotion over other situations. Is it because I subconsciously don't want to or because I just don't know how to and what happened at the hospital was a complete fluke? Is being angry the emotional equivalent to taking the easy way out of a hard situation or job?
So, I'm frustrated with myself and a little confused about it all. I'm adding this to the list of things I need to think about more and perhaps even bring up in my next therapy session. I have to stop letting anger stop me from doing things.
She also gave me reasons why but I'll admit to being too angry to listen to what they were at the time, though I'm sure we'll talk about it again in the future. Every week though, she would say it. Finally, I was so furious and so sick of hearing it, I snapped at her and said, "Stop telling me to love myself! It's not going to happen. There is currently nothing about myself to love. Maybe when the weight is off, I'll feel differently, but right now it's not going to happen."
She asked me, "Do you know how many times I was able to ask you that before you finally told me to stop? I've been counting. Have you? Five."
I didn't get the point. I still don't know what the point is because I have a long way to go with my therapy and I can't figure it all out at once. However, the number of times was apparently five and she never brought it up again. My point is anger was getting in the way of me understanding something about myself.
Yes, I'm only figuring this out now but what made me realize it was the hospital visit on Saturday and my visit with Dr. Douchebag (name changed to protect the misguided). When he left the room and I was putting my sock back on my foot, I suddenly chose to let go of my anger and use that moment as a motivational reminder that I can do this even if he didn't think I could. Recognizing that I could let go of anger was an incredible feeling. Empowering, even!
Ok, there is a slight problem now. I can't get it back. I have been angry since then about other things and I don't know how to stop being angry about everything and I don't know how to let go of that emotion over other situations. Is it because I subconsciously don't want to or because I just don't know how to and what happened at the hospital was a complete fluke? Is being angry the emotional equivalent to taking the easy way out of a hard situation or job?
So, I'm frustrated with myself and a little confused about it all. I'm adding this to the list of things I need to think about more and perhaps even bring up in my next therapy session. I have to stop letting anger stop me from doing things.
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
The Number You Have Dialed Has Been Disconnected
Part of my therapy process has been trying to learn what my triggers are for binge eating. Sometimes it's simple things like having a food item in the house that I just want to eat and the go overboard with it. More often for me, it's tied to emotions. I use food as a way to feel better and for someone who already has has a mood disorder you can probably guess, this is a really bad way to cope for someone who frequently rides the EOE (Emotional Overload Express).
Many times I set myself up for binging episodes without thinking about the consequences of my actions. It involves dealing with people I care about and expecting them to behave towards me or my requests in a particular way. When they let me down, I get upset, it triggers that compulsive eating and there I am, feeling physically an emotionally sick because I just ate myself stupid once again.
Ok, now that is an oversimplified explanation and only someone who has been through this (surely just about everyone, right?) and identified and dealt with the pain of constant rejection of a family member (or someone you care about) who you expect to be there or to follow through with something they're going to do or say is going to really understand the kind of hurt I am talking about here. I am not talking about a random occasion, I am talking about years of consistent and repeated events of being let down with no attempts of apologies or remorse when truly having made a mistake.
So, I thought that the easy solution for myself was, "Don't set yourself up for these kinds of disappointments, Rachael, by expecting things from others and simply just don't interact with that person at all." (I don't take complete credit for that, I have a therapist you know!) This only kind of works, because I have to be willing to commit to the cutting that person out of my life completely. I don't want to do that, because I love that person even if they have faults.
This leaves me with a solution of accepting their faults, knowing they're more than likely going to let me down or not meet my expectations again in the future, because that's what they do and learn how to let these things roll off my back and not send me packing on at trip down the EOE. (Again, thank you therapy.)
My only problem here is I don't know how to stop desperately wanting the person who lets me down the most to stop letting me down and just be there. I think, "That would stop some binging episodes, right?" I also know it would not teach me how to control the binging at all, nor would it teach me how to deal with the shattering disappointment that comes with being let down when expecting a certain outcome.
So there it is, I have my answer, I know what I have to do, but now I have to accept it. That's the hard part and I'm working on it. Life needs an on switch for everything. "I need to change a behavior? Oh let me just flip the switch for that right over .... here.... got it! All better." I'll get it figure out eventually, I figure.
Before I go, I have to add that I have considered that my expectations of my family might be unreasonable and I haven't realized that yet - or is thinking about it possibly realizing it? Either way, I'm not ruling anything out this early in the game and I am considering it more.
Many times I set myself up for binging episodes without thinking about the consequences of my actions. It involves dealing with people I care about and expecting them to behave towards me or my requests in a particular way. When they let me down, I get upset, it triggers that compulsive eating and there I am, feeling physically an emotionally sick because I just ate myself stupid once again.
Ok, now that is an oversimplified explanation and only someone who has been through this (surely just about everyone, right?) and identified and dealt with the pain of constant rejection of a family member (or someone you care about) who you expect to be there or to follow through with something they're going to do or say is going to really understand the kind of hurt I am talking about here. I am not talking about a random occasion, I am talking about years of consistent and repeated events of being let down with no attempts of apologies or remorse when truly having made a mistake.
So, I thought that the easy solution for myself was, "Don't set yourself up for these kinds of disappointments, Rachael, by expecting things from others and simply just don't interact with that person at all." (I don't take complete credit for that, I have a therapist you know!) This only kind of works, because I have to be willing to commit to the cutting that person out of my life completely. I don't want to do that, because I love that person even if they have faults.
This leaves me with a solution of accepting their faults, knowing they're more than likely going to let me down or not meet my expectations again in the future, because that's what they do and learn how to let these things roll off my back and not send me packing on at trip down the EOE. (Again, thank you therapy.)
My only problem here is I don't know how to stop desperately wanting the person who lets me down the most to stop letting me down and just be there. I think, "That would stop some binging episodes, right?" I also know it would not teach me how to control the binging at all, nor would it teach me how to deal with the shattering disappointment that comes with being let down when expecting a certain outcome.
So there it is, I have my answer, I know what I have to do, but now I have to accept it. That's the hard part and I'm working on it. Life needs an on switch for everything. "I need to change a behavior? Oh let me just flip the switch for that right over .... here.... got it! All better." I'll get it figure out eventually, I figure.
Before I go, I have to add that I have considered that my expectations of my family might be unreasonable and I haven't realized that yet - or is thinking about it possibly realizing it? Either way, I'm not ruling anything out this early in the game and I am considering it more.
Monday, July 26, 2010
Ignoring the Warning Signs
Our bodies are very good at telling us that something is wrong, but sometimes we're either not very good at listening or, in my case, I will simply outright ignore it because ... you may have guessed it, I'm fat. I allow my weight to stop me from going out into public, because I don't want people to stare at me even if this means not treating something like bronchitis or even a simple cold. So, I confine myself to my house.
About two weeks ago I developed a nasty little infection in my toe thanks to what was either athlete's foot or fungal infection. By Wednesday of last week it had started healing over, but I had started getting sick woth what I thought were flu-like symptoms which I did not connect to my toe (because, who would?) and still could have been completely unrelated at that point.
On Thursday I woke up with some minor lower right leg pain, below mid-calf and above my ankle in three specific points on my leg that had small purply-red spots developing. It was very odd, but I didn't think much about it other than it was where my leg rested on the recliner where I sleep and I was assuming I was developing uncomfortable pressure points. On Friday the pain was worse, popped some ibuprofen and hoped for the best. Friday night I developed chills and a fever and had my husband pick up cold medicine, annoyed that I was getting sick in the middle of summer.
On Saturday morning I realized that I was having pain while walking and though I had done things like showered and changed my clothes I had not really bothered looking at my leg. Pulling up the leg of my pants, it looked awful. What the hell was that? That was not a leg. That was a purple swollen gross stump of something and it hurt when I barely touched it.
Having worked in the medical field for years I had a sneaking suspicion of what it might be, but I didn't want to admit to myself that it might be that. So, I used an online diagnosing program to help me confirm my fears that it probably was what I thought it was, and it was at the top of the list of three conditions it could be, all which I should seek treatment for within the next 24 hours. Cellulitis.
I was horrified. It took the persistent pushing of both my husband and a friend to get me to go to the walk-in clinic on the base to get treated. Why? Because I'm fat and I didn't want people to stare at me. I didn't want to have to sit there and talk to the doctor about my weight because I was too afraid he was going to blame my condition on diabetes, which is another cause of cellulitis, but was not the cause of it in my case since I do not have diabetes.
Packing up my medications, I went to the clinic anyway because this is a serious medical condition and I couldn't leave it untreated. It needed antibiotics this time, I couldn't let being obese stand in the way of seeking treatment for an illness.
The doctor did exactly what I thought he would and ... did his job. Asked if I had diabetes. It's his job! I know this. I was still annoyed, though, and that's my issue because he's still required to ask questions and do his job. I assured him that I did not have diabetes despite my weight, explained the infected toe and showed it to him with the newly healed skin and he immediately agreed that it was more likely to have been that cause since almost the entire top of the toe was now covered in new skin.
Despite that, the conversation still turned back to my weight and diabetes. But, I came prepared. I very calmly and even somewhat proudly told him that I had gone to a bariatric surgeon for gastric bypass and during the psych evaluation was diagnosed with binge eating disorder. I was now seeing a cognitive behavioral therapist for binge eating disorder weekly to bi-weekly, a dietitian monthly and my regular doctor regularly.
I went on to explain that I was on medication for my blood pressure and that while my sugar levels had been borderline high when last tested in March, my doctor and I agreed we would wait before putting me on medication for diabetes because I was actively losing weight through healthy eating and exercise and seeing the dietitian and in 6 months we would retest me to see how the numbers looked. I even told him that I had now lost over 40lbs. That's 40. I'm under 420lbs!
What came out of his mouth next though floored me. He went on to say that when he was going to medical school, he used to binge eat when he was stressed so he could understand, he just never gained the weight. I must have had a look on my face that clearly said, "Did you just compare your med school stress eating with my lifetime of uncontrollable compulsive eating?" because he quickly followed it up with how he didn't really know much about how cognitive therapy worked but that he hoped I was doing well with it and obviously it was working for me to drop 40lbs and gave me what sounded like an apologetic congratulations if that's somehow possible.
Then he turned around, told me to go back to see my primary physician for a follow up in a few days and to get my blood rechecked for diabetes. I should also get back to the surgeon for that gastric bypass as soon as I could, as it was my best option for success. Beg your pardon? I was actually furious with this guy for suggesting that but thanked him for his information on the cellulitis and the antibiotic and promised him that I would be following up with my primary physician in a few days as he instructed.
When he left the room, I sat down in the chair and I thought to myself, "This guy... thinks I'm going to fail?" That was all I could come up with. I had actually given him some very good detail about the cognitive behavioral therapy and how much I had learned about binge eating and triggers and how it was helping me with my weight loss. The fact that he was suggesting the surgery though after all that just made me come to the conclusion that he believes that I'm going to fail.
Well, I have news for you. I'm not going to fail. Also, it felt really good to tell you that I lost 40lbs, even if I am still over 400lbs and I didn't have surgery to do it and I did it a little more slowly than other people might have. I will also have you know, I will not be getting the surgery, even if it means getting the weight off faster to correct issues like my blood pressure and borderline blood sugar level. You know why? One binging episode after I have a gastric bypass and I will die and considering I still cant control all my binging episodes yet, that's a problem. So no, I wont be going to do that and I am happy about it.
I would like add, that going to the doctors made me realize it's my chance to brag TO a doctor that I am losing weight and if it's a doctor that I see regularly, they'll even be able to open my chart see that and go, "Wow, you are losing weight!" Maybe they will praise me, because I like praise, and because they are a regular doctor I know they wont say something stupid like, "Go get surgery."
Also, you are a huge tool.
So, I did learn a lesson this past weekend: Self, the outcome was good, even though the experience at the Navy clinic was negative. When you feel sick, go ahead to the doctors so you can get treated to feel better and boast when you have the opportunity. Take your chance to pat yourself on the back because you deserve it.
About two weeks ago I developed a nasty little infection in my toe thanks to what was either athlete's foot or fungal infection. By Wednesday of last week it had started healing over, but I had started getting sick woth what I thought were flu-like symptoms which I did not connect to my toe (because, who would?) and still could have been completely unrelated at that point.
On Thursday I woke up with some minor lower right leg pain, below mid-calf and above my ankle in three specific points on my leg that had small purply-red spots developing. It was very odd, but I didn't think much about it other than it was where my leg rested on the recliner where I sleep and I was assuming I was developing uncomfortable pressure points. On Friday the pain was worse, popped some ibuprofen and hoped for the best. Friday night I developed chills and a fever and had my husband pick up cold medicine, annoyed that I was getting sick in the middle of summer.
On Saturday morning I realized that I was having pain while walking and though I had done things like showered and changed my clothes I had not really bothered looking at my leg. Pulling up the leg of my pants, it looked awful. What the hell was that? That was not a leg. That was a purple swollen gross stump of something and it hurt when I barely touched it.
Having worked in the medical field for years I had a sneaking suspicion of what it might be, but I didn't want to admit to myself that it might be that. So, I used an online diagnosing program to help me confirm my fears that it probably was what I thought it was, and it was at the top of the list of three conditions it could be, all which I should seek treatment for within the next 24 hours. Cellulitis.
I was horrified. It took the persistent pushing of both my husband and a friend to get me to go to the walk-in clinic on the base to get treated. Why? Because I'm fat and I didn't want people to stare at me. I didn't want to have to sit there and talk to the doctor about my weight because I was too afraid he was going to blame my condition on diabetes, which is another cause of cellulitis, but was not the cause of it in my case since I do not have diabetes.
Packing up my medications, I went to the clinic anyway because this is a serious medical condition and I couldn't leave it untreated. It needed antibiotics this time, I couldn't let being obese stand in the way of seeking treatment for an illness.
The doctor did exactly what I thought he would and ... did his job. Asked if I had diabetes. It's his job! I know this. I was still annoyed, though, and that's my issue because he's still required to ask questions and do his job. I assured him that I did not have diabetes despite my weight, explained the infected toe and showed it to him with the newly healed skin and he immediately agreed that it was more likely to have been that cause since almost the entire top of the toe was now covered in new skin.
Despite that, the conversation still turned back to my weight and diabetes. But, I came prepared. I very calmly and even somewhat proudly told him that I had gone to a bariatric surgeon for gastric bypass and during the psych evaluation was diagnosed with binge eating disorder. I was now seeing a cognitive behavioral therapist for binge eating disorder weekly to bi-weekly, a dietitian monthly and my regular doctor regularly.
I went on to explain that I was on medication for my blood pressure and that while my sugar levels had been borderline high when last tested in March, my doctor and I agreed we would wait before putting me on medication for diabetes because I was actively losing weight through healthy eating and exercise and seeing the dietitian and in 6 months we would retest me to see how the numbers looked. I even told him that I had now lost over 40lbs. That's 40. I'm under 420lbs!
What came out of his mouth next though floored me. He went on to say that when he was going to medical school, he used to binge eat when he was stressed so he could understand, he just never gained the weight. I must have had a look on my face that clearly said, "Did you just compare your med school stress eating with my lifetime of uncontrollable compulsive eating?" because he quickly followed it up with how he didn't really know much about how cognitive therapy worked but that he hoped I was doing well with it and obviously it was working for me to drop 40lbs and gave me what sounded like an apologetic congratulations if that's somehow possible.
Then he turned around, told me to go back to see my primary physician for a follow up in a few days and to get my blood rechecked for diabetes. I should also get back to the surgeon for that gastric bypass as soon as I could, as it was my best option for success. Beg your pardon? I was actually furious with this guy for suggesting that but thanked him for his information on the cellulitis and the antibiotic and promised him that I would be following up with my primary physician in a few days as he instructed.
When he left the room, I sat down in the chair and I thought to myself, "This guy... thinks I'm going to fail?" That was all I could come up with. I had actually given him some very good detail about the cognitive behavioral therapy and how much I had learned about binge eating and triggers and how it was helping me with my weight loss. The fact that he was suggesting the surgery though after all that just made me come to the conclusion that he believes that I'm going to fail.
Well, I have news for you. I'm not going to fail. Also, it felt really good to tell you that I lost 40lbs, even if I am still over 400lbs and I didn't have surgery to do it and I did it a little more slowly than other people might have. I will also have you know, I will not be getting the surgery, even if it means getting the weight off faster to correct issues like my blood pressure and borderline blood sugar level. You know why? One binging episode after I have a gastric bypass and I will die and considering I still cant control all my binging episodes yet, that's a problem. So no, I wont be going to do that and I am happy about it.
I would like add, that going to the doctors made me realize it's my chance to brag TO a doctor that I am losing weight and if it's a doctor that I see regularly, they'll even be able to open my chart see that and go, "Wow, you are losing weight!" Maybe they will praise me, because I like praise, and because they are a regular doctor I know they wont say something stupid like, "Go get surgery."
Also, you are a huge tool.
So, I did learn a lesson this past weekend: Self, the outcome was good, even though the experience at the Navy clinic was negative. When you feel sick, go ahead to the doctors so you can get treated to feel better and boast when you have the opportunity. Take your chance to pat yourself on the back because you deserve it.
Friday, July 23, 2010
The Blame Game
In my introduction post, I briefly mention how as a child, it was my parent's fault that I was chubby. After all, it's the responsibility of the parent to teach us about nutrition, the importance of exercising and not overeating. Unfortunately psychology then isn't what it is today and the study of mood disorders, emotional eating or eating disorders were likely still in their infancy. Please understand I am not saying they were not known but I am saying that information probably wasn't common knowledge and my parents certainly wouldn't have had any information about them.
About my parents, there is just no way they could have known that using food to cheer up an upset child was going to create a problem down the road. Years later, however, I'm stuck in this cycle of The Blame Game. It's not their fault, but they supplied me with food when I was sad or depressed as a pick me up. It became a constant crutch and then I started doing it on my own, so I'm mad at them for doing it, but they couldn't have known, but I wish they hadn't and I get angry at them for doing it. I struggle with forgiving and letting go (a topic for another day).
The only thing good that came out of all of this was that when I had my child, I constantly worried over him becoming the fat kid. I made sure I took him out to play frequently, I tried to get him to eat healthy and I used other positive ways to cheer him up instead of food. Yes, I actually managed to do this without a therapist's advice years ago. What I ended up with was an active child who had his father's metabolism who refuses to eat anything but pizza, chicken nuggets and fishsticks despite my introduction of other foods.
Unfortunately, it was a double-edged sword and I also became obsessive over my son's weight. Never around my son, but to my husband I would constantly voice my concern that he was either 1 or 2 pounds underweight for his age or overweight for his age and my husband would have to bring me back down to Earth and remind me that he's healthy and active and a growing boy and that he is not overweight.
So now, I have added on to the list of things that need work:
Today is therapy day. I'm looking forward to my appointment so I can discuss something shocking I've recently discovered about myself. Losing weight sends me into panic mode. I actually fear losing weight. Hmm. I'm not sure what to make of this. We'll see what happens at my appointment.
Happy Friday! See you next week.
About my parents, there is just no way they could have known that using food to cheer up an upset child was going to create a problem down the road. Years later, however, I'm stuck in this cycle of The Blame Game. It's not their fault, but they supplied me with food when I was sad or depressed as a pick me up. It became a constant crutch and then I started doing it on my own, so I'm mad at them for doing it, but they couldn't have known, but I wish they hadn't and I get angry at them for doing it. I struggle with forgiving and letting go (a topic for another day).
The only thing good that came out of all of this was that when I had my child, I constantly worried over him becoming the fat kid. I made sure I took him out to play frequently, I tried to get him to eat healthy and I used other positive ways to cheer him up instead of food. Yes, I actually managed to do this without a therapist's advice years ago. What I ended up with was an active child who had his father's metabolism who refuses to eat anything but pizza, chicken nuggets and fishsticks despite my introduction of other foods.
Unfortunately, it was a double-edged sword and I also became obsessive over my son's weight. Never around my son, but to my husband I would constantly voice my concern that he was either 1 or 2 pounds underweight for his age or overweight for his age and my husband would have to bring me back down to Earth and remind me that he's healthy and active and a growing boy and that he is not overweight.
So now, I have added on to the list of things that need work:
- letting go of the past
- forgiving my parents
- stop playing the blame game
- stop obsessing over my child's weight (he's not fat)
Today is therapy day. I'm looking forward to my appointment so I can discuss something shocking I've recently discovered about myself. Losing weight sends me into panic mode. I actually fear losing weight. Hmm. I'm not sure what to make of this. We'll see what happens at my appointment.
Happy Friday! See you next week.
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Binge Eating, for the Uninitiated
And while I'm at it, let me Google that for you. No, I'm not going to actually sit here and explain what binge eating is because that's not what my blog is for. However, before I continue with this post, I feel I am obligated to say that I don't work in the medical field, I don't have vast medical knowledge, I like Google, I listen to my doctors and anything I say on my blog relates only to me. If you share similar experiences and you have concerns about your own health, see your physician.
With that out of the way, I want to talk a little today about something I've been struggling a lot with lately. My binge eating. In the beginning, when I started my therapy back in March, I felt like I wasn't struggling with it at all. It might have been because I was losing weight, I was eating healthy, keeping my food journal and everything was going great. Of course, I couldn't even recognize patterns of binge eating then, so it was probably easy for me to say I wasn't struggling with it.
Lately it's been worse and I do notice now, a few months down the road, that much of my binge eating is attached to how I feel. It goes with stress, depression, anxiety and worry. I do fine when I'm happy. I don't use food for when I'm feeling good. However at the first sign of feeling bad, food becomes a way to feel ... not good. It's not good, the way it makes me feel, but temporarily less [whatever it was I was currently feeling]. I'm not sure there is a way to make someone understand who isn't a binge eater, but I'll try here soon.
Last week I had the worst episode in four months since starting therapy and becoming aware of the actual compulsive feeling that drives me to put food into my mouth when I am upset. As I sat here sobbing at my computer, trying to fight this feeling of wanting to eat so I could stop crying and stop feeling so horrible, my husband did his best to console me. I felt badly for my husband, because he couldn't understand, though he did his best to and eventually I just gave in and ate so I could stop feeling so damn depressed.
So this is what happened when I ate. Upon eating, the compulsion to eat stopped after a few minutes and I felt better. Unfortunately, feeling better never lasts because then I feel embarrassed, ashamed and depressed about having to eat to feel better. Oddly (and thankfully) though, this doesn't actually trigger more eating although in the past is may have. I haven't worked out why not and for now I will just count my blessings that it didn't this time.
What I do know, is what triggered this particular episode was mood swings thanks to mother nature - yes, it was that time of the month. Which, hey, thanks to losing weight I now see every month. For the last three months I have had mother nature pay me a visit. Not my favorite part of losing weight, though my therapist likes to tell me it's a good thing, because it means things are returning to normal in my body. On top of that, I do actually suffer from a mood disorder so mood swings are really intense. But, I digress.
Now, my therapist keeps asking me in session what I'm going to do about these times when the compulsions to eat hit me and I still don't know. She doesn't offer me any suggestions so I'm guessing I'm suppose to figure it out myself and that pisses me off but I'll get into my anger and food (and therapy) another day. In the meantime, I will continue to work on it and I will ask for help when I'm ready.
So, I want to give to you an example of what it is like for me to have an intense compulsive binging episode. This isn't actually what happens, I'm putting it into a situation where you can understand it. Imagine having a little voice whispering in your head constantly and it just keeps saying over and over again, "Eat, eat, eat, eat, eat, you should eat, eat something, eat, eat, eat, by the way get up and eat, eat, eat, eat, why don't you eat, go eat, eat, eat..." This goes on and on until you finally, to get the voice to shut the hell up, you get up and go eat.
Ok, that's what it's like. There is no actual voice, the voice is the compulsion, a feeling that is there, driving me to go eat that is so pressing that it wont stop until I put food in my mouth, chew and swallow. There is actually a feeling of relief that when I eat, it's gone and I feel free of it. Then starts that cycle of regret, shame, depression... you know, as I explained earlier.
That is binge eating, for me. It comes with obesity, unfortunately and I am fighting it now. I think I have allowed myself to become a victim of my emotions and have been holding myself hostage in my own body of fat. It sucks that I've allowed it to happen so long, that I waited until I was the age that I am, the weight that I am to try to take back my life but here I am doing something about it. At the same time, I realize (thanks to therapy) this started as a child, so I'm not sure that I could have stopped it from happening because I didn't know it was going on.
Anyway, a couple months ago, I didn't think that losing a couple pounds was anything to be proud of and I certainly wouldn't have been patting myself on the back but I think I can now. I'm not too proud of myself, but I think this is a small success. I'm sticking to it. I'm really doing it. I haven't given up. My therapist would probably frown or sigh heavily at me for not being more positive about the changes I've made so far, for me accepting this is a big step.
I am getting there, however, and I have decided that I am not going to let my binging episodes stop me from being a success. I accept that they might still (read as: will) happen until I learn how to control them or prevent them and until then I will pick myself up and keep going. I'm not a failure just because of this bump in the road. I will prevail.
With that out of the way, I want to talk a little today about something I've been struggling a lot with lately. My binge eating. In the beginning, when I started my therapy back in March, I felt like I wasn't struggling with it at all. It might have been because I was losing weight, I was eating healthy, keeping my food journal and everything was going great. Of course, I couldn't even recognize patterns of binge eating then, so it was probably easy for me to say I wasn't struggling with it.
Lately it's been worse and I do notice now, a few months down the road, that much of my binge eating is attached to how I feel. It goes with stress, depression, anxiety and worry. I do fine when I'm happy. I don't use food for when I'm feeling good. However at the first sign of feeling bad, food becomes a way to feel ... not good. It's not good, the way it makes me feel, but temporarily less [whatever it was I was currently feeling]. I'm not sure there is a way to make someone understand who isn't a binge eater, but I'll try here soon.
Last week I had the worst episode in four months since starting therapy and becoming aware of the actual compulsive feeling that drives me to put food into my mouth when I am upset. As I sat here sobbing at my computer, trying to fight this feeling of wanting to eat so I could stop crying and stop feeling so horrible, my husband did his best to console me. I felt badly for my husband, because he couldn't understand, though he did his best to and eventually I just gave in and ate so I could stop feeling so damn depressed.
So this is what happened when I ate. Upon eating, the compulsion to eat stopped after a few minutes and I felt better. Unfortunately, feeling better never lasts because then I feel embarrassed, ashamed and depressed about having to eat to feel better. Oddly (and thankfully) though, this doesn't actually trigger more eating although in the past is may have. I haven't worked out why not and for now I will just count my blessings that it didn't this time.
What I do know, is what triggered this particular episode was mood swings thanks to mother nature - yes, it was that time of the month. Which, hey, thanks to losing weight I now see every month. For the last three months I have had mother nature pay me a visit. Not my favorite part of losing weight, though my therapist likes to tell me it's a good thing, because it means things are returning to normal in my body. On top of that, I do actually suffer from a mood disorder so mood swings are really intense. But, I digress.
Now, my therapist keeps asking me in session what I'm going to do about these times when the compulsions to eat hit me and I still don't know. She doesn't offer me any suggestions so I'm guessing I'm suppose to figure it out myself and that pisses me off but I'll get into my anger and food (and therapy) another day. In the meantime, I will continue to work on it and I will ask for help when I'm ready.
So, I want to give to you an example of what it is like for me to have an intense compulsive binging episode. This isn't actually what happens, I'm putting it into a situation where you can understand it. Imagine having a little voice whispering in your head constantly and it just keeps saying over and over again, "Eat, eat, eat, eat, eat, you should eat, eat something, eat, eat, eat, by the way get up and eat, eat, eat, eat, why don't you eat, go eat, eat, eat..." This goes on and on until you finally, to get the voice to shut the hell up, you get up and go eat.
Ok, that's what it's like. There is no actual voice, the voice is the compulsion, a feeling that is there, driving me to go eat that is so pressing that it wont stop until I put food in my mouth, chew and swallow. There is actually a feeling of relief that when I eat, it's gone and I feel free of it. Then starts that cycle of regret, shame, depression... you know, as I explained earlier.
That is binge eating, for me. It comes with obesity, unfortunately and I am fighting it now. I think I have allowed myself to become a victim of my emotions and have been holding myself hostage in my own body of fat. It sucks that I've allowed it to happen so long, that I waited until I was the age that I am, the weight that I am to try to take back my life but here I am doing something about it. At the same time, I realize (thanks to therapy) this started as a child, so I'm not sure that I could have stopped it from happening because I didn't know it was going on.
Anyway, a couple months ago, I didn't think that losing a couple pounds was anything to be proud of and I certainly wouldn't have been patting myself on the back but I think I can now. I'm not too proud of myself, but I think this is a small success. I'm sticking to it. I'm really doing it. I haven't given up. My therapist would probably frown or sigh heavily at me for not being more positive about the changes I've made so far, for me accepting this is a big step.
I am getting there, however, and I have decided that I am not going to let my binging episodes stop me from being a success. I accept that they might still (read as: will) happen until I learn how to control them or prevent them and until then I will pick myself up and keep going. I'm not a failure just because of this bump in the road. I will prevail.
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Hello, Scale, my nemisis.
I enjoyed my weight loss more before I owned my scale, because I only knew how much weight I was losing twice a month when I would see either my dietitian or one of my other various physicians. This meant, I couldn't obsess over it at home.
For some reason, at a later time I thought it would be a good idea to get a scale. I don't even recall why I thought it would be a good idea. I told myself that I would get one and that ... eh, it wasn't even going to be a big deal. Once a month, on the first, I'd weigh myself so three times a month I'd have my weight. Once at home, twice at the doctors. That's not going overboard in a one month period, I had felt, so I bought myself this scale.
Well, technically, I asked my mother to buy this scale for me because it was expensive. Scales that are capable of holding someone at my weight are priced significantly higher and fall outside the price range of what was affordable. So I finally had this shiny new scale, I set it up in my kitchen and used it many times the first day I had it because it was cool! It was digital and it talked.
Ok, it was cool that it talked for everyone else, I quickly learned. It was not so cool to hear it talk out my weight. I was like a cat with it's fur raised hissing at this thing. Evil. You would think it would stop me from suddenly becoming obsessed with weighing myself. It did not. I suddenly went from only weighing myself once a month to only weighing myself once a week which also lasted about half a day. I was weighing myself several times a week. I couldn't keep myself off this thing.
I can say with certainty that owning a scale, for me, was a bad idea. Already having several weight related issues to deal with (that I'm sure will have future individual posts dedicated to them), I now had to deal with getting on this thing every morning and letting it set the mood for my day. Would I be happy to see it go down or depressed that it stayed the same or angry all day that it went up?
I spent weeks going through this same thing day after day before I finally took the scale, shoved it in a closet and felt blessedly free from the wretched cycle. I let it sit there for a while, not a long time, because I couldn't let the scale win. So after about two weeks I took it out and put it back on the floor and this time I felt more ready to have a relationship with my scale.
I didn't have any kind of great epiphany while it was in the closet. I had a couple therapy sessions where I cried about it and talked to my therapist and worked on my hatred for it. I did decide that I wouldn't let the numbers on there be the deciding factor on whether or not I was going to have a good day. Sometime, I still weigh myself two days in a row and sometimes I don't weigh myself at all for an entire week - and I try to do that more often than not.
To be honest, sometimes I still get mad at the scale, but I choose not to stay mad and I don't let it ruin my entire day.
For some reason, at a later time I thought it would be a good idea to get a scale. I don't even recall why I thought it would be a good idea. I told myself that I would get one and that ... eh, it wasn't even going to be a big deal. Once a month, on the first, I'd weigh myself so three times a month I'd have my weight. Once at home, twice at the doctors. That's not going overboard in a one month period, I had felt, so I bought myself this scale.
Well, technically, I asked my mother to buy this scale for me because it was expensive. Scales that are capable of holding someone at my weight are priced significantly higher and fall outside the price range of what was affordable. So I finally had this shiny new scale, I set it up in my kitchen and used it many times the first day I had it because it was cool! It was digital and it talked.
Ok, it was cool that it talked for everyone else, I quickly learned. It was not so cool to hear it talk out my weight. I was like a cat with it's fur raised hissing at this thing. Evil. You would think it would stop me from suddenly becoming obsessed with weighing myself. It did not. I suddenly went from only weighing myself once a month to only weighing myself once a week which also lasted about half a day. I was weighing myself several times a week. I couldn't keep myself off this thing.
I can say with certainty that owning a scale, for me, was a bad idea. Already having several weight related issues to deal with (that I'm sure will have future individual posts dedicated to them), I now had to deal with getting on this thing every morning and letting it set the mood for my day. Would I be happy to see it go down or depressed that it stayed the same or angry all day that it went up?
I spent weeks going through this same thing day after day before I finally took the scale, shoved it in a closet and felt blessedly free from the wretched cycle. I let it sit there for a while, not a long time, because I couldn't let the scale win. So after about two weeks I took it out and put it back on the floor and this time I felt more ready to have a relationship with my scale.
I didn't have any kind of great epiphany while it was in the closet. I had a couple therapy sessions where I cried about it and talked to my therapist and worked on my hatred for it. I did decide that I wouldn't let the numbers on there be the deciding factor on whether or not I was going to have a good day. Sometime, I still weigh myself two days in a row and sometimes I don't weigh myself at all for an entire week - and I try to do that more often than not.
To be honest, sometimes I still get mad at the scale, but I choose not to stay mad and I don't let it ruin my entire day.
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Fat People Are Unintelligent
I probably just pissed off a lot of fat people with my title. Chances are, I got their attention, too. Don't worry, fat people, I'm fat, too. I've been chubby, mildly overweight, heavyset and now morbidly obese . It was my parents' fault when I was a child, it was my fault as an adult. There were definitely some other factors involved that attributed to my weight gain including medications and mood disorders such as depression but as an adult I take responsibility for my part in my weight gain.
Perhaps you, the skinny person or maybe even the overweight person, look at me and you judge me because obviously I must lack smarts to allow myself to get this big. Did I not know what I was doing? Yes, I did. It didn't stop me from being the emotional eater when I was down, or rarely exercising or eating poorly. Still sounds like I'm unintelligent right now, doesn't it? I'm getting to that, I promise.
I wanted to lose weight. I tried, many times. I tried paid programs and failed, I tried diets and failed, I could never seem to get it right. What the hell was I doing wrong? Why couldn't I get it when other people seemed to be able to? Why couldn't I stick with things or understand what was going on?
Did you happen to read the little blurb (description) about this blog where I go to say that I suffer from a binge eating disorder? What it had come down to was me going to a bariatric surgeon for the gastric bypass. For those who don't know, this involves many tests, including a psychiatric evaluation. I wasn't looking for the label of binge eating disorder and I didn't know it existed. In fact, when I was turned down for the surgery because I was diagnosed as having this disorder, I was in disbelief and in denial.
I'm not going to go on here and use this as my excuse to be fat. It's the reason for being uneducated as to why I couldn't commit to weight loss and why I was repeatedly failing at losing weight. Now that I know, I am taking steps in the right direction to do something about it. Therefor, I am not unintelligent, I am learning from the information I have gained and I am finally improving myself. I just needed the right teacher.
So here is where I shock you and tell you I'm skinny now and you can do it, too, in these easy steps! Just kidding. I'm still fat. Are you kidding? I just started this process in January (2010) with the surgeon. My weight was 462lbs. He told me that before I could even be considered for the surgery I would have to lose 25lbs on my own. It was at the end of February that I had my psychiatric review where the woman told me she wanted me to find a cognitive behavioral therapist for binge eating disorder.
What I am going to say is that I really don't want the surgery. I never really did, but I was scared of dying from being fat and I didn't know what else to do. Between seeing this therapist once a week who specializes in eating disorders and seeing this dietitian once a month, I'm losing weight slowly but I am losing weight. This morning I am 427lbs and I am happy that I am not 462lbs this morning. Sometimes I still binge eat, I only just started being able to identify when I do it. It's depressing, but I'm working on it.
So, this is what my blog is for - a place for me to talk about what losing weight is like for me. It might be the emotional things, it might be the people in my life that contribute to what causes me to eat or the emotions that make me feel like I want to eat, maybe the motivations or goals I have. Either way, it's for me. I'm not trying to be an inspiration for other people, I'm just trying to be an inspiration for myself. A reminder to keep going, I guess. I keep my food journal offline, I don't need to do that here. I will try not to whine! Sometimes I will be positive, sometimes I might be negative but hopefully all of this will be cathartic for me.
Maybe you're losing weight, maybe you've lost weight, even if you aren't a binge eater and you've just struggled with being heavy and you want to comment, that's cool. I really want to hear from you. But you want to troll? This really isn't the place for you. I'm never going to post pictures, I wont be your thinspiration and don't want to hear about how you're so fat at size 2 and wish you were a size 0, I won't be target for your mean spirited comments. I may be a faceless person on the internet but I am a person with feelings and ask you to move on and not bother me.
If you're still reading at this point (long winded, aren't I) then I thank you for sticking around. See you next post.
Perhaps you, the skinny person or maybe even the overweight person, look at me and you judge me because obviously I must lack smarts to allow myself to get this big. Did I not know what I was doing? Yes, I did. It didn't stop me from being the emotional eater when I was down, or rarely exercising or eating poorly. Still sounds like I'm unintelligent right now, doesn't it? I'm getting to that, I promise.
I wanted to lose weight. I tried, many times. I tried paid programs and failed, I tried diets and failed, I could never seem to get it right. What the hell was I doing wrong? Why couldn't I get it when other people seemed to be able to? Why couldn't I stick with things or understand what was going on?
Did you happen to read the little blurb (description) about this blog where I go to say that I suffer from a binge eating disorder? What it had come down to was me going to a bariatric surgeon for the gastric bypass. For those who don't know, this involves many tests, including a psychiatric evaluation. I wasn't looking for the label of binge eating disorder and I didn't know it existed. In fact, when I was turned down for the surgery because I was diagnosed as having this disorder, I was in disbelief and in denial.
I'm not going to go on here and use this as my excuse to be fat. It's the reason for being uneducated as to why I couldn't commit to weight loss and why I was repeatedly failing at losing weight. Now that I know, I am taking steps in the right direction to do something about it. Therefor, I am not unintelligent, I am learning from the information I have gained and I am finally improving myself. I just needed the right teacher.
So here is where I shock you and tell you I'm skinny now and you can do it, too, in these easy steps! Just kidding. I'm still fat. Are you kidding? I just started this process in January (2010) with the surgeon. My weight was 462lbs. He told me that before I could even be considered for the surgery I would have to lose 25lbs on my own. It was at the end of February that I had my psychiatric review where the woman told me she wanted me to find a cognitive behavioral therapist for binge eating disorder.
What I am going to say is that I really don't want the surgery. I never really did, but I was scared of dying from being fat and I didn't know what else to do. Between seeing this therapist once a week who specializes in eating disorders and seeing this dietitian once a month, I'm losing weight slowly but I am losing weight. This morning I am 427lbs and I am happy that I am not 462lbs this morning. Sometimes I still binge eat, I only just started being able to identify when I do it. It's depressing, but I'm working on it.
So, this is what my blog is for - a place for me to talk about what losing weight is like for me. It might be the emotional things, it might be the people in my life that contribute to what causes me to eat or the emotions that make me feel like I want to eat, maybe the motivations or goals I have. Either way, it's for me. I'm not trying to be an inspiration for other people, I'm just trying to be an inspiration for myself. A reminder to keep going, I guess. I keep my food journal offline, I don't need to do that here. I will try not to whine! Sometimes I will be positive, sometimes I might be negative but hopefully all of this will be cathartic for me.
Maybe you're losing weight, maybe you've lost weight, even if you aren't a binge eater and you've just struggled with being heavy and you want to comment, that's cool. I really want to hear from you. But you want to troll? This really isn't the place for you. I'm never going to post pictures, I wont be your thinspiration and don't want to hear about how you're so fat at size 2 and wish you were a size 0, I won't be target for your mean spirited comments. I may be a faceless person on the internet but I am a person with feelings and ask you to move on and not bother me.
If you're still reading at this point (long winded, aren't I) then I thank you for sticking around. See you next post.
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