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!

I never did.

It would be one thing if my imaginary audience was made up of people I loved, or even liked.  But my silent onlookers were more like a group of hecklers, made-up of the people I feared the most.  In my mind, every move I made was scrutinized by this judgemental crowd.  They made me feel like I was incapable of making even the simplest of decisions, like what shirt to wear, or how to apply my make-up.  And the more in-public I was, the bigger and the nastier my audience became.  For example, if I wanted to go to the store, the moment I walked out of the house, I felt like I was being watched by a group of people who didn’t like me while my worst enemy gave a condescending running commentary of my every move. (Can you tell that I have been told that I tend to use my vivid imagination against myself?)

That is the way I lived my life before program.

In doing my fourth step, however, I discovered that the leading voice in my imaginary audience was actually…MINE!  That the “worst enemy” I mentioned earlier was in fact MYSELF!

Once I understood this at a gut level, my imaginary audience shrunk considerably.  There may still be a few nameless stragglers milling-about the stands, a couple worn-out hangers-on, but mainly it’s just me there.  And I have mellowed.  I am not so hard on me anymore.  And I am not so hard on others.  And sometimes, when I am feeling especially close to my Higher Power, there have actually been times when I have been my very own CHEERLEADER!

None of these things ever worked in the long run.

For me, it was not until I did The 12 Steps the way they are outlined in The Big Book that I even got close to finding out what this elusive ‘”benefit” of my binge-eating was.

I don’t really expect anyone to “get” this – – the same way I didn’t get it when well-meaning people tried to tell me the same thing – – but just in case there is the possibility that I may be able to spare just one someone the decades of pain it took for me to figure this…

Here goes nothin’…

I think it can all be boiled-down to this cliche: “the devil you know vs the devil you don’t.”  For whatever reason, it was much easier for me to focus on an obsession that, although horrible and debilitating, was comfortable and familiar to me.  In my twisted mind (the result of decades of negative thinking patterns that reinforced my fears and lead me to constantly seek “proof” of all that is bad about me and the world), the thought of having to face my real feelings or real-life situations SEEMED impossible for me to handle.  I always had this belief that real life was going to be much more difficult to deal with than it actually turned out to be.  But back then, I had nothing to compare these realities to because I had NEVER experienced them!  EVER!!  Food was ALWAYS my coping mechanism!  I knew nothing but being mentally and emotionally consumed with all things “weight,” whether that be my appearance, my clothes size, my caloric intake, obtaining my binge foods, keeping myself “hidden” (literally, behind extra layers of clothing, and figuratively, by avoiding all forms of confrontation and many, MANY social situations), eating in secret, planning my next dieting scheme, agonizing over upcoming events where people would “see” how much weight I had gained, trying to be funny, smart, overly-perfect to distract from my size,…. (not to mention the thousands of other forms of self-abuse which included lots of nasty self-talk and not taking care of myself emotionally, physically, or spiritually).  Since I had never learned any techniques for self-soothing (other than eating), I was constantly beating myself up for trying to deal with life the only way I knew how.

And yet, at the same time, all of this negativity and addictive behavior came naturally to me.  It evolved over so many years and took so long to fully develop, that by the time I recognized what it was, it had already consumed my entire identity.  It was actually to the point of being unconscious – – it was my “default” (as all you tech-savvy kids out there say today).  I didn’t even realize what I was doing, even when counselors came right out and ASKED me…that’s how far gone I was!  I really, honestly, DIDN’T GET IT!  I wasn’t lying or stubbornly avoiding the truth…I genuinely THOUGHT I was being honest, and I guess I was being as honest as I could be at that time.  I guess that’s what true denial is all about – – believing your own self-deception.  I had actually “fooled myself” into thinking that avoiding reality (feelings, confrontation, social situations) was EASIER than facing life on life’s terms!  I truly believed that it was EASIER to stay the way I was rather than try to learn something new about myself, even though I was simultaneously seeking a solution!!  In this twisted scenario-o-mine, the “old” had now become comfortable AND easy!  Who could resist?  And as I stayed there in this little world of food addiction that I had created, my life continued to get smaller and more restricted, which is the ideal breeding ground for fear, which continues the cycle of self-pity and self-hatred, which leads to all kinds of weird forms of self-sabotage,…  This is why I was trapped in a strange weird limbo-land where I was constantly convincing myself that it was useless to even attempt to conquer the very thing I was always trying so hard to fix!

Clear as mud, right?

Wanna see the short version?

- – – I ate because I was scared not to. – – –

Up until last year, I would still periodically torture myself by trying to get off my medicine.  I would secretly wean myself down to a very low dose,.. not even telling the doctor who was prescribing it… until it was too late.  Then I would start having the anxiety attacks again, and thinking I was going to die in my sleep, and obsessing about death and dying, and I’d get heart palpitations to the point of forcing me to the emergency room (where they always told me “it’s just anxiety”) – – and then I would have to wait several weeks for the higher dose to kick-in.  And I would always vow that I’d never try to go off it again…until a few months later.  (Now that I think about it, isn’t that the same way I always handled my food problem?)

It has literally taken me DECADES to finally come to terms with the fact that there are just some people, like me, who need anti-depressants – – the same way a diabetic needs insulin.  I am talking about people who use it correctly, here, under close medical supervision.  Over the years, I have been told by many doctors and psychologists that there is nothing to be ashamed of  – – that I have a chemical imbalance that is probably hereditary.

So imagine my shock several months back at hearing someone at a meeting telling the group that being on anti-depressants is the same as being “on drugs,” and that people who take them while in program are “not really clean.”

Are you KIDDING me?!

I had all I could do not to jump up and scream at this person.

First of all, no one should be speaking “at” the group.  In program we are taught to share our OWN experience, and to NOT assume that what is right for us is right for others.  But aside from that, it is COMPLETELY IRRESPONSIBLE for someone in program to make general statements about the taking of ANY type of medications!  Talk about being presumptuous, self-centered, and SELFISH!!  Suppose there was someone in the audience who was suicidal?!  Who is only still alive thanks to this type of medicine?  Maybe they are only able to get to a meeting BECAUSE they are on it!  And maybe their newly-found abstinence or sobriety is the only positive thing in their life right now!  Who has the right to take that away from ANYone?!  EsPECially from someone in such a fragile mental state?!  That important point aside, this doesn’t even begin to address the issue of anyone in the audience (like myself) who may already be battling their own inner demons with respect to this matter.  What good does it do these people to be told that they are failures?!  Clearly this is something people need to resolve FOR THEMSELVES!

Moral of the story?  DO NOT let others in program become a substitute for your doctor, your intuition, or your God!  Listen to God, listen to your body, and listen to the advice of more than one medical professional.

IMPORTANT!!!! 12-Step meetings are NEVER the place to get your medical advice! 

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.

We never even made it through the doorway.

The moment I set foot in the tiny bar, a short, heavy, sweaty, drunk, bald guy with his back to the door turned around, looked me up and down, and rolled his eyes.  I was mortified but took another step inside.  I had learned over the years to at least pretend I didn’t notice.

But then he yelled-out, “J—- C—–!  It’s bad enough I have to work with a bunch of fat b—–s all day, now I come here and I have to look at THAT?!  Are you f—— KIDDING me?!”

I instinctively started back through the door I was still holding open.  I know I looked like a deer in the headlights.  All the guys in the place were roaring with laughter.  For a moment I had the dreadful thought that my boyfriend was going to get into a fight when he said something to defend me.

But he never said a word.

He backed out the door as fast as I did.  My eyes started to well-up and my heart was pounding.  I hated my boyfriend for not defending me.  Worse, I hated myself for not seeing this coming – – for not assuming that I would be ridiculed for how fat and ugly I believed that I was.  In a sick way, I actually felt like I had gotten what I deserved.   I wanted to scream and cry and run away forever.  Instead I settled for yelling at my boyfriend for not at least saying SOMEthing, to which he replied that it would have been useless anyway, since there were so many of them.

True, but not in any way consoling.

In all my years around program, I never knew until recently (and only after doing my own research on the Internet) that there are two different labels used by mental health professionals to describe abnormal eating behaviors.

Here they are:

Compulsive Overeating.  Those diagnosed as “compulsive overeaters” are people who spend unusual amounts of time obsessing about food, weight,…and grazing – eating many times throughout the days.  Although these people may consume many calories when they are totalled together at the end of the day, they usually do not eat a lot in one sitting.

Binge-Eating Disorder.  Those with this diagnosis regularly eat more than 1000 calories per sitting, do it in a frenzied way (usually reporting feelings of being “out of control”), and have intense guilt and shame around this behavior.

I loved finding these “real” labels because it reinforces in my mind the idea of food addiction being an illness.  But even more amazing to me was finding out that BOTH conditions can exist in the same person at the same time!  Which is the perfect description of MY experience with eating disorders!

I am a Compulsive Overeater with a Binge-Eating Disorder! 

There is a NAME for what I have!  There is a PATTERN to what I do!

To me, it is such a relief to know this!  It means that there are so many “others” out there with the same exact problem as I have that the mental health professionals had to give “us” a name!

Isn’t that comforting?!

It is to me!!

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!”

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.