To eat, perchance to dine.

Our house has been in uproar as of late.


My sweet husband is in the middle of finals and last week I was diagnosed with a herniated disc. My doctor has forbidden all running and has made the suggestion that I find another mode of exercise (for the rest of my life) - this proves difficult as I coach cross country and sponsor a running club. So, tough week.

Well, last night I set off from work to hit up the grocery store and then, make my husband dinner. He had an exam yesterday and it's becoming increasingly frigid outside, so I needed to make dinner something warm, relaxing, and tasty. We've been playing around with vegetarian ways - so, I whipped up green bean casserole, macaroni and cheese, and whipped sweet potatoes.

I had so much fun cooking...and shopping for that matter. I used all of the real stuff. That's right Sharp cheddar cheese, butter, evaporated milk, full fat ricotta (for another recipe). Not once did I think about fat grams....well, I did think about how I could be eating a chocolate brownie instead of sipping on my glass of red wine...but the health benefits of red wine are far superior to those of a brownie, eh?

It was a lovely meal.

Tonight I am making spinach lasagna and we're going to finish off that bottle of wine.

Cheers!

For the 1st time ever....potatoes didn't make it better

Sorry to all for the hiatus. I seem to apologize for those quite a bit. Life has been busy. So busy, in fact, that I have not even thought about what I've been eating...except for a brief stint in vegetarian cuisine that my husband and I are trying to undertake. I heart vegetables.

Well, I had a bad day today. I woke up sore (from nothing, I've just started waking up sore) and completely unwilling to go to work. Things escalated from there. Long story short, I ended up in my office tearing up and determined that for lunch I was going to have some form of fried potatoes that would make it all better. Comfort eater...gotta love it.

This is the first time in a while that I've knowingly gone for the comfort food in an effort to improve my spirits.

The funny thing is that by lunch time I was feeling better, issues had been resolved, and I was perfectly satisfied with my PBJ on organic whole wheat. But, I wanted those potatoes. It was settled in my mind that they were indeed the source of all happiness and nothing, come hell or high water, was going to stop me from partaking.

So, I ate some tater tots from the cafeteria. Oily, gross, full of chemical grossness tater tots. They didn't make me feel better. They made me feel horrible. They are currently residing in my stomach - planted and unmoving like a fat man at an all you can eat seafood buffet.

Good Lesson for the emotional eater and guilt purger that I am (not that I've purged in over a year and a half) - score.

Sorry for the hiatus

Life got busy.

But good.

I'm back to work and surprisingly, less focused on everything else...including food. I've been slowly implementing advice from the nutritionist, I have not been restricting any sweets, and I'm doing great. I've been running lots and feeling really good about my body. I've even lost some weight - not much. I think my body is just changing shape because I'm feeling really good about what my body is capable of doing!

I'm doing good. I'll write more later.

Breaking Myself

This morning, I woke up and decided, "self, I am not going to eat anything sweet today."

I didn't really think about keeping this thought in check.
a) Because I've been having something sweet everyday (and it seems like a lot).
b) I've kind of gotten sick of sweets and honestly, would prefer a nice crunchy celery stick (smothered in ranch dressing).

Well, the morning got off to a good start - except we were running late for morning prayer at our church. So, I choked down some yogurt (w/almonds) and we were on our way.

After prayer, we went across the street and got a cup of coffee. My husband roasts all of our coffee himself, so going "out" for coffee was a big treat and something we hadn't done for a while. Although, I must admit his coffee always tastes better.

I got to work 2 hours later and realized that I was hungry...and I wasn't going to make it to lunch. By divine intervention, krispy kreme glazed doughnuts were awaiting me in the office. Awesome.

I didn't really want something sweet - but I was hungry and it was there. Delicious - especially with coffee.

Then the guilt came. I shrugged it off. I was feeling good.

It continued to haunt me throughout the day, but I tried to be disciplined intaking each thought captive - instead of the other way around.

The time came in my day when I go for a run. I coach cross country (not a runner by nature) and I usually try to get my own workout in before the kids come for practice.

I was running late, but wanted to run the entire course (conundrum). Whereas in the past I probably would have foregone the workout for another doughnut in this situation; today, I went for it. And while this won't impress many of you - to me, it's pretty much a world record: 2 miles in 15 minutes. Sweet.

Never happened before and will most likely NEVER happen again.

I can feel my "self" breaking and my old "self" (the good one) - coming through...

Self-Confidence...an inventory and overhaul

This is a post from my other blog "A Day's Grace" - please enjoy and take part in the challenge.

Perhaps some of you have heard of New Zealand's 4th most popular folk parody duo, The Flight of the Conchords. If you haven't, no worries - they are not terribly relevant in this upcoming post, but beware, you are missing out.

In one of their numbers entitled, "The Hiphopopotamus vs. The Rhymenoceros," the two musicians play off one another in a well orchestrated and hilarious gangster rap battle. A line from this memorable musical snack is , "Sometimes when I freestyle, I lose confidence." This too true observation of human behavior made me think.

My life is pretty much me - freestyling. Seriously, I know of no real plan. I have goals, beliefs, and ideas of what I think my life should look like - but I'm really just doing and saying whatever comes into my head...and hoping that I am somehow getting it right.

I must confess, that sometimes when I freestyle - I lose confidence.

Many of you have read another blog authored by myself - Everyday Eating Disorder. It chronicles my journey as I confront my inner struggles with health, food, and destructive mindsets. Well, recent happenings have begun to make me question how confident and self-assured I really am. I think to a lot of people I might appear "confident" or "self-assured" or even "comfortable." At times, I totally am - at other times - it's a war that rages within my mind - and too many times I have lost.

I want to improve my self-confidence. But, how does one really go about doing this? Well, I googled it. Yep. I know. But, hey, I needed practical steps. One of the steps suggested was to have friends and family, etc. write lists of things they loved about you - or things they thought you did well.

So, here's your challenge.

I humbly ask you to leave a comment if you are reading this. Tell me 1 thing or 10 things or however many things you think I do well.

I'll try to keep you all posted as I prayerfully enter into this journey. It's definitely one that is humbling and long over due.

Thank you for reading.

Temptation

Working at a middle school, temptation is everywhere. Now, I don't remember having such easy access to all sorts of food as a 7th grader, but let me assure you - teachers have a secret stash of their own treats.

Often times it's leftover doughnuts from this week's FCA meeting, the remnants of a child's birthday treat, or even a specialty item to celebrate the staff. Food is everywhere - and not just food...sweet, delicious, yumminess, that is covered in both icing and colored sprinkles.

Well, the other day it was one of my favorite student's birthdays - during break he made a point of giving me one of his "birthday cookies" that he brought for his grade. I took half a cookie - I ate it - It was tasty. Then, I find it is another student's birthday and that this child is offering cupcakes. I take one (yellow icing) and partake. It was yummy.

The rest of the day, I ate sensibly. I had my little mini-meals and my snacks, etc. I was drinking plenty of water - and for the most part I was at a good place. The day before I had met with my therapist and she recommended my coming in "as needed" instead of weekly (Exciting). Well, about 2 hours after the cupcake, I decided that the food must vacate the body.

I started thinking about drinking more water in order to enable a more leisurely vomit (I know it's a twisted thought process - that's why I'm writing this blog). I came to pretty quickly and called my husband. I told him of the overwhelming, compulsive need to vomit - and he said the coolest thing.

"What did you eat?"

"I ate a cookie...half a cookie...and a cupcake....a whole one...chocolate with yellow frosting...I need to throw-up."

"No baby, that food is good." "That's good food."

Health freaks, don't get up into arms. My husband surely wasn't advocating a diet of chocolate chip and frosting. He was simply reminding me that food is good. Even the "bad" food is good. I didn't eat 5 cupcakes - I ate 1. That one cupcake was good for my soul and perhaps, good for my body - in a way.

It was definitely a rough day - but I felt good at the end of it.

I didn't purge - 12 months going strong. I feel so good about it all.

One day at a time.

Two Steps Forward...One Back

This week I started working again. It was a busy weekend leading up to my first day of work - I was in the throes of home improvements, gave a tea for the ladies of the church, and had a house guest - all in a weekend.

Not once did I find myself worrying about food - or even how I looked.

Then it hit.

Monday evening I came home from work and began getting ready for an evening out with my husband. I decided I would get on the scale for a quick peak before I took my shower.

I got on the scale and it read low. I got off, got back on, and it read low again. I then yelled to my husband to get on the scale - so that we could compare. He got on. I asked him what the scale read for him...he was too smart for me.

"Why?"

"I think the scale might be off."

"Why?"

"I just need to know."

"Why?"

At this point it is best if I summarize by saying that screaming and crying ensued on my part. I couldn't fathom going out for our day before I knew if that scale had been correct or not. No amount of pleading on my part would persuade my husband to answer me...until I told him the truth.

"I have to know! It read 3 pounds light! 3 pounds! I need to know if I lost that...cause if I lost it, I can be happy and if I didn't lose it then I don't want to get my hopes up...I need to know what it says."

My husband smiled - kind of sweetly - He knew what was at the heart of it. He knew that my mind had twisted and perverted the numbers and the conditions into things that would control my emotions. He was keeping me accountable. He wanted me to confess....I was trying to avoid it by saying that the scale being correct was my primary motive.

Well, this forced confession was good for the soul and a great reminder no matter how well I think I'm doing....I can never let my guard down - concerning my mindset. I must be hyper vigilant.

The beastly thing that haunts me is ever over my shoulder and I have yet to elude it.

Avoidance...perhaps

So, last week I had to cancel my counseling session because of last minute plans to go visit the family. I called 24 hours in advance to avoid a ridiculous late fee and promised the secretaries that I would indeed call back to reschedule.

Yeah - that's right. I canceled and I have yet to call back and make an appointment. Part of me just doesn't want to. I've been going for 2 months and I don't know what I get out of it - apart from having someone besides my husband to talk to about my nonsense - which is good, just not "$40 copay" good.

When we were first dating, my now-husband knew all about my eating issues - he knew all my "tells." Granted, I had warned him of the tale-tell signs of inner battle:
(1) I have stated at least once that I "shouldn't" have eaten "that".
(2) I wiggle in my seat a little bit and touch my stomach - as though I'm uncomfortable...but no real physical discomfort is happening.
(3) I excuse myself to the bathroom sometimes more than once - working up the courage to do the inevitable.
(4) I run water while I'm in the bathroom to cover up any sounds I might be making while throwing up.
(5) I wash my face and claim a stomachache upon my return.

Pardon the graphic set-up, but I'm getting to my point. When my husband became aware of everything going on - he kind of took on the role as my keeper. He would keep me accountable about what I ate and he would try and look for the "signs." God bless him. Unfortunately, this really became habit and 2 years later is followed us into our marriage.

So that you'll understand where I am coming from...my husband is the nicest, most wonderful, amazing man on the face of the planet. Most question why he chose me as his bride. I, myself, am not entirely sure, but I think he must have suffered a temporary lapse in judgment because I am all sorts of crazy. All this to say, if he did not like playing the role of food warden, he wouldn't say - especially if he felt I needed him in that capacity.

So, one of the first counseling sessions - my therapist asked me what my goals were. I told her. She said, "I think we should add something about freeing your husband from his current role." And I realized that selfishly, I had never thought of that. Did my husband mind being in that role? I came home the same day and told him the goals - including relieving him of his current duties - and he looked as though the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders.

He hasn't said a thing to me since about what I eat, my behavior (although he does intervene when I say I'm not hungry at meal times), or my consistency in doing as prescribed by my therapist. So, no one is breathing down my back to reschedule this missed appointment.

I like that no one is responsible for my recovery except for me. It makes me realize that I'm strong, capable, and completely responsible for my actions. I can't be dependent upon or blame my condition on others. I can respect that. As I'm learning to respect my body for what it is capable of...I'm also learning to respect myself - and it has been years since I have done that.

Let's hear it for therapy, people! Now, I've got an appointment to make.

Just Another Day

So...My nutritionist told me I needed to eat certain things at certain times during the day. To clarify, I must eat five to six "mini" meals everyday. Each meal must consist of a certain amount of protein, fat, and carbohydrate. She says it will help my metabolism stabilize and also keep my energy up throughout the day. She even says it will help with any reflux or digestive problems I might have - the benefits of not putting too much food on your stomach at any given time. This is really hard for me to swallow.

Five to six meals every day? Really? I mean, I know she calls them "mini" - but that still involves me eating five to six times a day. That's at the very least 180 minutes of everyday spent eating food. That doesn't even include the time used to plan and prep my miniature forms of sustenance. So, at the very least I'm looking at 300 - 400 minutes a day being around or thinking about food.

I thought facing my eating disorder was about getting away from the nasty habit of overthinking food. But, now I find myself thinking about it even more...and then, feeling bad that I'm probably still not thinking about it enough to fulfill my obligatory 300 - 400 daily minutes.

Where's the line between health-conscious and obsessiveness? Because I want to be healthy. I want to fuel my body appropriately. I'm just so tired of thinking about it all...and it's so easy to fall back into the comforting arms of an old habit that does the thinking for you.

Old Habits Die Hard

So...I've totally been on an up swing with this whole eating thing. I've been following nutritionist's, therapist's, and doctor's orders. I've been running, yoga-ing, pilates-ing, de-stressing, blogging, talking about issues, not letting my emotions get the better of me...I've been good.

But, with the ups come the downs. They're good. They bring me back to earth - back to the realization that I have a problem and am handling it.

The other night my husband wasn't home. I was... conveniently, so was a carrot cake. I ate a slice, a really little one - everything in moderation, folks. Then, I had another slice, not so little, not so much in moderation. Then, I proceeded to eat two chocolate cookies and 5 bags of popcorn...all in my mind. The 2 pieces of carrot cake were a glitch, but the desire to eat everything in sight was so overwhelming that I proceeded to throw a bag full of "tempting" food in the trash.

Minor setback.

I spent the rest of the night sipping water, fighting the urge to throw-up, and reflecting upon the evils of cream cheese icing - which is really not at all that evil (but quite delicious). I reminded myself that 2 pieces of carrot cake wasn't a binge and that I had stopped. I might actually be pulling this recovering thing off. Success.

Now, explaining to my husband why his chocolate chip cookies were in the trash...

Angry Eating

If you know me well enough, chances are you know at least a couple of things: (1) I have an uncanny knack for unwittingly saying very inappropriate things in very inappropriate situations and (2) I can get angry. Bad temper is not as accurate a description as "wildly moody." I'll be talking about the latter defining characteristic today.

I've always thought that this was how God made me - overly sensitive, moody, easily angered - the proverbial thorn in my side. But the more I've talk about these things with my therapist (dissected is a more apt description), the more I realize - I am the product of both my own and others mistakes in "handling" me. God allowed it for a reason, no doubt - but the process is rather Pavlovian in nature.

All of these things, of course, in some way interact with my eating and therapy serves as the debriefing after the great experiment - the time during which the docs tell you the purpose of the project, as well give you a break down and analysis of your behaviors.

The other day, I was in therapy and began talking about how I was an emotional eater. Seriously, I don't just go for the pint of ice cream when I'm sad - I go for it all the time...emotional eating for me means "eating whenever I feel an emotion", which for a "wildly moody" person is pretty darn close to all the time. You're thinking, "No way." Ask the hubby. He was the one who picked up on it. Good day...get a reward. Bad day...get a pick-me-up. Sad day...get a comforting something or another that was probably high in both calories and fat. Unfortunately, I could go on.

Back to my therapist. She asked me if I let myself get angry - she then specifically refers to the PCOS situation. Did I ever let myself get angry? Hmmm. Well, yes and no. See I was upset, but not angry. I felt hurt and disappointed, but what was the point of getting angry over something I couldn't control (a rather mature response in my opinion). She then inquired as to how I expressed my anger as a child (God help us all). The short answer is...I got angry very quickly (the result of holding a lot of emotions in); I would be sent to my room where I would kick, scream, and yell; and finally a parent would come in when things quieted down, hug me, then we'd go get something soothing like hot chocolate. Then the lights finally came on.

My therapist then explains that emotional eating is the result of years of acting out this kind of process. Obviously, most people come to a point in life where it is unacceptable to kick, scream, and yell. So they, like me, simply skip over expressing their emotions and head to the food - the good stuff. She was right. I never really owned my emotions, so much as the bag of Cheetos. Fun stuff. I love therapy.

As painful as it was to see a personality trait broken down most accurately to Pavlov's dogs - I now recognize it. A little light shown in the darkness. It doesn't mean I'm better overnight. It definitely wasn't a cure all, but it's a start. I still find myself eating for the wrong reasons (at times), but most of the time I'm able to own my emotions, accept them, and move on. And I've got to admit that accepting hurt, anger, anxiety, etc. is so much more fulfilling than covering it up.

My Disorder Story

I was born prematurely, which means that I entered this world weighing less than most other babies. However, as luck would have it, I liked food. I think my mom let me eat as much as I wanted because she was worried. There has been talk of "forced feeding," but I don't give it much credit. My mom was a neglected child, so one thing she could never withhold from her children, and rightly so, was food.

By the time I was 5 and my sister was 8 we were by no means "fat," but we weren't "scrawny" either. We were basically "normal" maybe "chubby." One flippant comment about our weight from a family member worried my mother and thus began a life of dieting. Stupid grandmas.

I would like to think that I had a healthy relationship with food, but it was as perverse as you get. You deny yourself the things you like in order to be "pretty." But, bad days would come and food tasted good - it made you feel batter. I've been an emotional eater (binging) for most of my life. I'm convinced the only reason I didn't purge until I was 16 was because I had no idea I could.

My sister and I both struggled with body image, weight, and self-esteem. My mom and dad tried everything to help us: diets, pills, exercise, goals, shots. It's only now looking back on it that my entire family can acknowledge how completely skewed it all was.

I even remember being 14 and going to a bariatric doctor. She put both my sister and me on Phen-Phen, a well known diet drug combination that is now banned by the FDA. I was only 20lbs. overweight and still growing. It makes my mind reel today. This medication opened my eyes to the great results brought about by food restriction. I lost 20 pounds in 2 weeks. I was working out 3 hours a day. I could count what I ate on my fingers. I finally felt pretty. I stopped taking the meds, but the effects were lasting - mentally anyway.

I had some other stuff going on - like abnormal hair growth & periods. I went to an endocrinologist and found out I had PCOS and insulin resistance, both of which were the cause of my weight and inability to lose it (save starving) no matter how hard I exercised. He put me on a diet - no sugar, low salt, and low fat. All my weight problems had been solved, right?

PCOS is closely tied with my fertility. So, at the age of 15 I had to start thinking about babies. Every time I slipped up and ate a cookie - I killed a baby (in my mind). If I ate that piece of chocolate - God was not going to let me have children - because I lacked discipline the self- sacrificing constitution every parent needs. This is when I found my loop hole.

If the sweets made me dirty. I just need to get "clean" again. I just had to get it out of my body. Purging: vomiting, laxatives, enemas...you name it, I've tried it. Made a mess out of my body in the process. Still had some anorexic tendencies, but binging and purging was my main M.O.
Nobody caught on because my weight stayed pretty normal, plus the new diet allowed for some weight loss.

I've been "purge-free" for about 8 months, but I still binge - a lot. My big weakness is stress-eating. I still struggle with body image. And yes, I still feel like sweets are the enemy. But, I'm trying to get better. My therapist says at this point I exhibit more signs of "disordered eating" than anything else. I just think I mostly exhibit signs of being screwed up. But hey, I'm trying. I'm running and doing Pilates and yoga and I'm learning to respect what my body is capable of - I just wish it was capable of fitting into a size 6 pair of jeans.

Confession

Looking at me you would think I was a fairly well-adjusted young woman. I've been told by many that I appear confident, outgoing, and self-assured. I like that I portray this image.

I'd like to think I am all those things, but in the depths of me (in the hidden places) you will find secret fears and desires. Little beasts that have captured much of who I was as a child - from whom I have since been trying to get myself back. Insecurity, left unchecked by its owner is a poison.

I have struggled with bulimia and some anorexic tendencies for the past 10 years. I am on the mend, however. Hence, the need for this "tell-all" of a blog - an effort for full disclosure, self-awareness, and healing.

I'm not sure who it is really designed for: the reader, the writer, the curious passerby. It's uncertain. I do, however, hope you read this. At times, I'm sure it will sound much like today - a confession, other times stories of victory will surface, and even still there will be times when you want to stop reading, maybe - because you feel as though you are invading the privacy of a perfect stranger. Keep reading. Chances are you know someone who has an eating disorder - You know me.