Why?  Because for the vast majority of my life, I dreaded the return of summer clothing.  In case you haven’t noticed, there aren’t really any “spring” or “fall” clothes.  They just jump from winter right to the bikini’s…in MARCH!  And that’s precisely when my self-beatings would begin in earnest.  They went something like this:

“You ran out of time AGAIN?!”

“I thought this was going to be a SKINNY summer?!”

“Why do you even TRY?!  You are so PATHETIC!”

Soon bathing suits would be the only article of clothing I’d see –  all of them seemingly there for the sole purpose of taunting me by “saying” things like, “Nah nah, you can’t wear me!”  In my panic and embarrassment, I’d look around desperately for a big hooded sweatshirt or a pair of baggy sweatpants to hide in, but alas, no such luck!  Just rows and rows of skimpy stringy things (much smaller than my underwear, I might add!), and then, way in the back corner, I’d spot the dreaded rack of the “plus size” versions that, for some odd reason, only came in various shades of “floral.”

Understandably, in the end, I stopped buying swimsuits altogether.

Even though I no longer consciously beat myself down when I am witness to the annual bikini migration, I must admit that I still get this free-floating feeling of “the springtime blues,” as I call them.  To me, it is very similar to that feeling I used to get as a child on Sunday nights in winter, when it was cold and damp and it got dark early and I would think about how great it would be if I had just one more day of weekend…

I guess all those years of negative conditioning have turned this feeling into an automatic response. Although I no longer hate myself and hardly ever think much about what I can and can’t wear, it sneaks-up on me anyway.  I feel like Pavlov’s dog responding to the bikini bell of summer.  But at least I know what it is.  In the past, non-specific feelings like these would make for the perfect excuse to eat.  Not anymore.  Now I can let myself feel it and be compassionate to myself about it.  I now understand that the damage caused by more than three decades of mental self-abuse is not going to disappear in two or three years of program.  It is going to be a slow process, and that’s OK!  Just knowing what all this is about and giving myself permission to feel the feelings is enough.

Besides…now that school is back in session and the bikinis have all flown south for the winter, it’s time to celebrate!  So, for today, I feel GOOD!   Now, check THIS out, and we can all “feel good” together!! :

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MVFj-_SDIHE

HAPPY FALL!

Whether I “meditate upon” negative thoughts or positive thoughts, that has no baring on my value as a person.  Same with my food choices.  But the TRUTH of the matter is that the positive/healthy thoughts (or foods or behaviors or feelings,…) are the ones that make me feel BETTER about myself and therefore, they are the ones that will lead me to a more enjoyable way of life.  They will not make me “good,” but they WILL make me HAPPY!

So why not do what I do now?  If you find yourself dwelling on things that make you feel bad, just yell to yourself, “STOP IT!”  And then change the picture in your mind.  I like to imagine this happening the same way a channel changes on my television when I press a button on the remote control.

In the beginning it seemed like I was doing this a million times a day.  Now I think its down to only a couple-hundred times.  (Remember: It’s all about progress, not perfection, right?)

So give it a try.  I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised.

My first garbage-picking memory starts out nice enough.  Every Saturday night my family would gather downstairs to watch a show or movie and mom would make pigs-in-a-blanket.  That tradition is one of my happiest childhood memories.  Unfortunately, it is also intertwined with the early stages of my eating disorder.  That is the part I will be focusing on here…

I can remember lots of obsession related to this particular group of food memories.  It would start with being fixated on when the food would be ready to eat.  I would watch the clock…

tick…tick…tick…

…get the condiments out…

tick…tick…tick…

…and the plates…

tick…tick…tick…

…and the napkins…

tick…tick…tick…

…and the drinks…

tick…tick…tick…

Truth be told, I was being TOO helpful.  It was not in my nature to be that useful.  “Selfish motives” were the thing powering me at that time.  When “the dogs” were finally taken out of the oven, I would choose the largest one, never giving a single thought to the possibility that someone else might be as hungry as I supposedly was.  Then I risked burning the roof right out of my mouth by biting into one of the steaming “pigs” while everyone else had the sense to wait for theirs to cool.  Before I knew it I was on my second one and already mourning the fact that I wanted a third but couldn’t have it for fear of looking like the thing I was eating.  All the while I ate, I was silently plotting a way to get more.

I knew that the leftover dogs would be sitting in a the pan on the stove until we were finished watching tv.  If I pretended to go to the bathroom, I could make a pit-stop in the kitchen and eat another one before I rejoined the family.  Sometimes I would wimp-out, especially if there was only one or two left, thinking that would be too obvious.  But luckily for me, I come from an Italian family where food shortages are a rarity.  Most times there were as many as four or five left, so I was easily able to convince myself that no one would notice if one more was missing.  That usually held me for a while, and then I could focus on the show and enjoy the time with my family…

Until…

…after the show it would be time to clean-up.  I would watch helplessly as my mother dumped the rest of the uneaten dogs into the trash, then I would hold my breath and wait to see if anything got thrown on top of them.  If they remained “clean” on the top, as they usually did, I knew that I had all the makings of an early morning snack.  I swear that knowing this would wake me up the next morning hours earlier than usual.

At about 5 a.m., barely allowing myself time to pee, I would silently race to the kitchen trash container and grab the room-temp dogs.  I knew that by that time the dough would be rubbery on the outside and gummy on the inside, but I didn’t care.  I didn’t even put anything on them.  That would be too messy, since I wouldn’t be using a plate.  Besides, I didn’t have time for luxuries like that!  I was in a race against time!  What if my parents heard me?!   I would gobble the dogs, one in each fist, while standing in the hallway entry so that I could keep an eye on my parents’ bedroom door.  If one of them DID wake up (and it happened!), I would dash back to the trash can and throw them back in.  I’m sure they would know what was going on, but no one ever said anything to me about it.  But not to worry…I beat myself good and hard after every time I did it.

Years passed, my disease progressed, and my gorging was completely out-of-control.  I was buying bags and boxes of stuff I swore I wouldn’t finish, but I’d ALWAYS finish them!  Finally I got desperate enough to try a new way to stop myself.  I would get rid of whatever food I had started to eat (but didn’t want to finish) by burying it at the bottom of the trash – only to dig it out hours later.  I can’t tell you the humiliation of wiping coffee grinds off a bag of smashed chips or of eating out of a container of half-melted ice cream – –  because I “had to.”  Later-on I figured-out that unless I removed whatever type of food I was sick of bingeing-on from its packaging and mixed it with the trash that was already in the can, there was always going to be that possibility of me going back-in for more.  Of course, there were the times when I would try to fool myself by not disposing of “the goods” properly, knowing full well what I planned to do later on.  I’d play the whole horrible game with myself, only to end-up eating every last bit of what I didn’t want to be eating in the first place, no matter WHERE I put it!!

To live this way, day after day, week after week, year after year,…was pure torture.  I always felt helpless, like there was no way out, and ashamed that I couldn’t stop myself.  But today my life is completely different.  All the obsession and compulsion that I had surrounding food has been removed!

The same can happen for you!

I say,…

“O-A…

IS the way!”

Doesn’t mean I want to do it, though.

At first I looked at my beloved pink packets (the yellow ones make me physically sick and the blue ones just scare me) as what I “deserve” – – the same way I used to look at all foods I wanted to eat – – as if eating them was a reward for good behavior.  At that time, I was consuming about 15 packets a day.

About a year into my food plan, I started to look at those packets as “treats” – – something to give myself a little pick-me-up.  I could finally recognize that they were not the best choice, but that they did help me stay on track by satisfying the need we all have for sweet-tasting foods.  In an odd way, this was growth for me, because it was acknowledging that it was OKAY for me to like sweet things and that, even though I may not have the “perfect” food plan,” I had made one that it was do-able, which, for me, was the most important part.  At this point I was down to about 10 packets per day.

After 2 years of abstinence, it finally started to dawn on me that “food equals fuel.”  Period.  It is not “good.”  It is not ” bad.”  It is not “a reward” or “a “punishment.”  It is not a comforter or something to use to get revenge on others (or myself).  It is simply the way I get the nutrients required for my body to work properly.  There is nothing EMOTIONAL about it!  I am not saying that I have this concept entirely down pat yet, but it is definitely starting to take shape.  I have since substituted agave nectar for many of my pink packets (I chose this sweetener because it supposedly has a low glycemic index) and for the past 4 months I have not noticed any difference in cravings.  I currently use 3 tablespoons per day, plus 3 pink packets.  Not perfection, but definitely progress!

Then, a couple weeks ago, I was at a convenience store and there was a sign for a sugar-free frozen drink made out of diet soda.  Hmmmm…

Had to try it.  I’m not gonna lie.  It was YUMMY!

Next day I had another.

Next day another.

That night I was sick.  Must be made of yellow packets.  Had to give it up.

Doesn’t mean I wanted to, though.

…and the battle continues….

Not surprisingly, when my husband and I moved into our first house, complete with our own front yard to take care of, I brought my neurosis with me.  In both houses we have owned, the rule was that I did the backyard gardening and he did the front.  And that was set in stone.  I wouldn’t lift a finger in the front yard, again, for fear of being seen.  At my current house this became more of an issue because the front yard is very large (so my husband could really use the help) but it is also on a busy road (which means – GASP! – people!!)  During the fall, especially, I eventually had to help rake leaves in the front yard, but that had to be on my terms – early morning weekends ONLY – (I am talking about BEFORE 7 a.m. here!)

All that started to shift last year.  I don’t know when it happened, exactly, but several times I found myself picking-up stray sticks or raking up a little patch of leaves in the front yard WITHOUT having to analyse all the reasons why I couldn’t be the one to do it.  Last spring I filled flower boxes in the middle of the day, in the middle of the week, in the middle of the FRONT YARD!  This past fall, I even raked leaves “in broad daylight!”  But the biggest change happened just a few short weeks ago.

For some reason I got it in my head that I wanted to rake out the beds, take apart the existing rock border, and re-stack it in a neater design.  I looked at my schedule and penciled-myself-in for the following day.  I got out there around 10 a.m. and worked until around 4 p.m. (stopping only for lunch and a couple small snacks and drinks).  I was so involved with what I was doing that I didn’t even realize that I had spent an entire day, in the COMPLETELY unflattering position of sitting cross-legged on the ground, in SHORTS, working in the FRONT YARD!!!, and IT NEVER EVEN CROSSED MY MIND that there may be passers-by who were making fun of me or thinking negative things about my body, or making fun of what I was doing or how I was doing it – – all the crap that had consumed my thoughts for my entire life!!

This was a TRUE MIRACLE for me!!

Thank you, HP, for freeing me from all that horrible, draining, unproductive insanity!!

Through the process of doing The 12 Steps, I was horrified to learn that my main character defect was self-centeredness.  At first I really didn’t get it, even though the “evidence” was right there in front of me, in my own handwriting.  But how could I, who literally suffered for years from poor self-esteem, be self-centered?!  Didn’t that mean that I thought I was great and only did things to make myself happy?  Wasn’t I always going out of my way to make sure I wasn’t hurting anyone else’s feelings or doing anything that would lead to any type of confrontation?  How could that possibly be self-centered?!

Well, it took a while for it to really sink-in, but by the time I finished the turn-arounds on my 4th Step, I came to the conclusion that there are actually two parts to the definition of self-centeredness, at least in the way that it relates to my warped personality.

The first part has to do with the plain fact that “I Was Always On My Mind.”  I was always, always, ALWAYS thinking about myself, what I was doing, what I was going to do, what I did,…  That ALONE was exhausting!.  But here’s the REAL key – – even though I was constantly putting myself down and thinking of myself in a negative way, I was STILL focused on myself!  I STILL had no mental space for what was going on with OTHERS!  I was self-absorbed with how “bad” I was.

The second part was that I made whatever was going around me (including the actions of others) all about ME!  What I believed others were thinking about me, what others might be saying about me, how I looked to them, what kind of criticism I was going to get,…  I would read all kinds of things into what people were doing, like thinking that people were doing things to purposely hurt ME, rather than acting for themselves with motives that had NOTHING to do with me!  I saw everything in terms of being against me, because of me, or about me.

To top it all off, it was at about this same time that I slowly began to realize that even during those occasional times when I WAS thinking of others, it was usually with MY best interest in mind!  So even my “good intentions” turned out to be based on selfish motives!

Apparently, for decades I had been The Center Of The Universe, but this was the first time I was seeing it!  I suddenly could relate to my dogs really well – – the way they think that people coming over, bags of groceries being brought into the house, snowstorms,…are all things that happen for them, and for them alone.  But I digress…

Back to my original metaphor…

At first I was amazed at how easily I took to this blog-writing thing.  You might even say I was obsessed with it for a while there.  But like a good addict, I tend to get overly-involved with projects in the beginning and then trail off and leave things unfinished.  So I think I shocked even myself when I continued writing after all these posts.  But then I thought about it.  And here’s what I figured-out…

The reason why I continue to maintain an interest in writing this blog is because it is all about my favorite subject: ME!!  I would have never in a million years thought that I would write something so selfish-sounding as that (especially on the Internet!), but it is the truth!  Analysing myself, my thoughts, and my motives comes so naturally to me because I have been inside my own head for over 40 years!  Being self-centered in this way is my default.  I am comfortable here.

I must say that it has been quite the humbling experience to recognize just how self-centered I have been and how that has effected, not only me and my self-concept, but my relationships with others, including the way others perceive me, the way they interact with me, and the path that our interactions take.  I find all of it quite interesting, oftentimes painful, but, at the same time, very hopeful.  If I had never been through this process, I would have never realized any of this, and if I didn’t know there was a problem, there would have been no hope of it ever getting fixed.  Now I CAN get out of my own head (at times) and at least make an attempt to help others, like with this blog.  Yes, there is a lot of “me” going on here, but maybe this is one of those times when we can “see” God taking a character defect and turning it into something that can actually help other people.

At least,…that is my hope.

ABSTINENCE  IS  A  CHOICE,  NOT  A  PUNISHMENT ! ! !

As both a child and a young adult, I always wanted to EFFORTLESSLY be good at sports, to NATURALLY have a small appetite, to ACCIDENTALLY be thin, to AUTOMATICALLY be self-confident.  But all these were difficult for me.  And that made me feel different.  I truly believed I was the only one who had to work at these things.  So naturally I always felt like I was being punished for being different, or for having to work hard at them.  Of course none of this was true.  Sure, we all know a couple of people who can eat whatever they want and not gain weight, or that one person who has an innate athletic gift right out of the womb,…but those are the rare exceptions.  The majority of us have to put in real time and effort in order to reap the rewards of life.  It took me a long time to figure that out, but I finally got it.

Today abstinence is a privilege, a gift, and a decision, NOT a chore, a curse, or a burden.  Knowing and understanding that difference deep down inside my core allows me to make the decision to feel empowered rather than victimized, and to choose to live “a life of sane and happy usefulness” that would have otherwise never been mine.

. . . MY THIN EVIL TWIN ! ! !

She was NOT a nice person at all.  She had so much pent-up anger inside of her that it’s amazing she didn’t do any real damage in the short time she was around.  She did, however, manage to take out her frustrations on many people with her miserable attitude.  Most notably, she was a real jerk to guys she met in clubs – – as if they were the ones to blame for keeping her trapped in her prison of fat for all those years before.  If a guy asked her to dance, she would turn him down with a rude look or a sarcastic comment,…when only months earlier she would have given anything for any one of them to pay her some attention.  But that’s what she was so angry about!  Wasn’t she still the same exact person inside?!  Then why was everyone treating her so differently now?!  Obviously it was because of her weight!  How SHALLOW!!  And she resented this with every fiber of her being!  How DARE they think they could be so rude to her last year and then be so nice to her THIS year and think she would be OKAY with that!  Now she would show THEM!!  She made it her mission to try to make every single one of them feel the embarrassment and shame that she had felt every time she was the fattest girl in the joint.  No one would ask her to dance.  No one would even talk to her, even if they were all over her thin friends, and many times, she heard the cruel remarks.  So she felt she was owed this.

Of course, it never for a moment entered her vengeful mind that perhaps all this attention had more to do with her newly-found self-confidence which allowed her to dance like a normal person (rather than just sulk in the shadows), and to wear sexier clothes, and to put some extra time and effort into her hair and make-up.  Or that perhaps the club scene was not exactly the best place to meet a “nice guy” no matter WHAT size she was.

Or that…perhaps…SHE was the problem all along.

Do you know how that makes you feel – – to look into that closet, day after day, week after week, month after month…and see all the things you CAN’T wear?!  Talk about self-sabotage!!

One of the best pieces of advice I have ever heard about this “condition” was to do a closet clean-out and only keep things in there that you have worn in the past 12 months.  WOW!  What a novel idea that was for me!  I have always had a fear of clothes shopping (that’s another post for another day), so it’s not like I had tons of clothes to start with.  But once I finally decided to go through the clothes I did have, I was shocked to find that I hardly had ANYTHING to wear!  I mean, even though I had several things in my current size, the TRUTH of the matter is that I had only been wearing the same 3 shirts and 3 pairs of pants for months!  The other items that fit were things that I didn’t even LIKE!  In a way, it was like the overflow of wrong-sized clothing allowed me to ignore the fact that I was out of clothes and needed to buy some more, simply as a means of taking care of myself!  (Is it me, or is there a hidden meaning in that “overflow” being a distraction/excuse for not dealing with the real problem – – like food used to be?)

More hurtful to me were the two large bins of “skinny clothes” that I kept at the bottom of my closet.  Over the years, I moved them from apartment to apartment, from house to house, always hoping that some day I would magically fit back into these clothes that I only wore for about SIX MINUTES in my twenties!  I finally realized how unhealthy this whole thing was and went through all of the items.  Half of them were totally out-dated (although, have you seen some of the fashions lately?  Lookin’ pretty Cyndi Lauper-ish, if you ask me!) and most of the rest I didn’t really care about so I donated them to charity.  I did, however, allow myself to keep three things I really liked.  I folded them neatly and tucked them into a corner on the top shelf.

By the way – – if I ever DO get to my goal weight, don’t you think that I’d like to go buy some nice NEW clothes?!  Insanity at every turn!!

Nowadays my closet is still not full, but at least everything in it fits me.  When I get some extra cash, one of my goals for this year is to go out, by myself, and do at least a couple days’-worth of serious clothes shopping – – I am talking about the kind where you actually try things on and spend a good amount of time going to different stores in search of the perfect fit.  I don’t think I have ever done that in my entire life.  But today I am actually looking forward to it.  And that new attitude is all thanks to OA and my awesome Higher Power!

QUESTION OF THE DAY:  What’s in YOUR closet?!

The good news?  This was my bottom.  This is what gave me the courage to come back to program.  I was finally desperate enough to admit defeat and ready to start over.  Well,…almost ready.

For months I sat on that horrible fence between going back to OA and staying away.  I was so mortified by the way I looked that I could not even imagine stepping through the door of my first meeting at that size.  Honestly, there was nothing I wanted to do LESS than go back – – but I was dying…spiritually, emotionally, and physically.  So what choice did I really have?

Finally one night in November of 2009, I decided to look online for a meeting in my area.  I was surprised to see that all of the meetings I used to attend were gone (or at least they were no longer meeting at the same locations), and that frightened me a bit.  But at that moment I was more concerned about keeping away from people I knew in program.  I didn’t want to “be seen.”  I decided to take my chances on a meeting I’d never been to out in the sticks, thinking that I probably wouldn’t know anyone there.

I got to the meeting strategically early so I could watch everyone go in.  See if I recognized anyone.  Then I would decide if I should go in.  I waited.  And waited.  And waited some more.  No one ever came.  I suddenly realized that the meeting was not going to happen at all.  I felt panicky.  I hadn’t thought of that!  No matter how badly I didn’t WANT to go to a meeting, the idea that I COULDN’T go to one was far worse!  What if there were NO meetings to go to?!  What would I do?!  I knew that the program would work if I could just get myself into the routine of attending regular meetings, but without those, I knew there was no hope for me!  I went home, discouraged and scared.  I spent the next few days doing some heavy-duty soul-searching.  I came to the conclusion that I really DID want to go to a meeting and that I was going to try again (but not until the same meeting came-up again, of course).

The following week I parked my car and went inside the building, determined to at least find out once and for all if this meeting actually existed.  Low and behold, two people showed-up.  Then another person.  And another.  I didn’t know any of them.  I breathed a silent sigh of relief and immediately felt at home.

For the next 2 months, I attended this weekly discussion meeting and would share on the topic of the day and on the miserable state I was in.  Every day I would binge, and every night I would wonder how I could have done it again!  Then I would show-up at the meeting and say that I REFUSED to stop overeating even though I KNEW that I HAD to!  It was such a torturous place to be.  And week after week, the caring people there just listened and then talked with me afterwards.  There was no judgement, except for the voices in my own mind that kept telling me what a loser I was for not even making an attempt at getting abstinent.  The only thing that I actually DID start to do was to get on my knees every morning and every night and ask my Higher Power for “the willingness to be willing” to stop overeating.  Over the years I had acquired enough program to know that this was my problem – – until I was willing to at least TRY to be abstinent, I was lost.  I was “beyond human aid,” as The Big Book says.  Only God could save me at that point, and I knew it.

One night, after returning home from one of these meetings, the thought came to me that I should try writing-out a food plan for myself.  I was not going to follow it, of course, but if I could pick any way to eat healthy – – any way at all – – what would that be?  I kept this rough draft out on the kitchen table all week and tweaked it between binges.  It was just there, and I worked on it as if it were a school homework assignment.  I felt like I was doing it more out of curiosity to see what I could come-up-with more than anything else.  Best of all, for some strange reason, I felt no emotional attachment to it at all.

By spending so much time looking objectively at my food behaviors over the past 20+ years, I was fianlly able to see that the my biggest problem I’d had with sticking to my food plans of the past always came down to the feeling of deprivation, whether in the amounts of foods or in the elimination of foods.  So my new food plan tried to solve that problem by increasing portion sizes, by giving myself a little leeway within the elimination categories, and by adding snacks.  I knew that, for myself, I needed something that would be easy to adapt to any situation.  If I had learned nothing else, I had at the very least learned that if I was going to lose weight and successfully KEEP it off (which I had never done before), I had to have a plan that I would be willing to follow FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE!  Not just when I was losing weight, or when I was trying to impress people, or when things were going my way, or when the weather was nice,…but ALL the time!  I guess it was just my time to finally face this reality…for the first time in my life.

And yet,…

ANOTHER week went by and I did the same thing – made some notes, moved some things around, took out some stuff, added some stuff…but I STILL refused to even TRY to follow it!  I did mention at one meeting what I was doing, but I said it as if it were a joke and that I had no desire whatsoever to even consider trying it out.

Then, out of the blue, at the end of a meeting in the beginning of February 2010, I raised my hand and committed to my group that I was going to start following the food plan I had created, and guess what?  I have been abstinent ever since!  I can tell you that when that happened, it was NOT ME raising my arm!  The thought had not even crossed my mind until that moment.  In fact, I barely knew why my hand went up at all!  You know how sometimes at a meeting you will be wondering if you should raise your hand and say what you are thinking out loud, but you keep stalling?  Well this was NOTHING like that.  This was supernatural.  I wasn’t thinking about trying to follow my food plan AT ALL!  I really believe that it was God answering my prayers.

He knew that I wasn’t going to do it on my own, so He had to do it for me!