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.