Scheduled Binges . . . Why not?

This is the best I've felt in a really long time -- I made it through the whole weekend without a purge!  I also made it through the entire week leading up, but the weekend was the biggest hurdle.  It feels amazing.  It feels like I should never have to worry about ED again.  I know I will, but right now he's living on top of the dusty old bookshelf at the back of my mind.

For the past few weeks, my plan to cut out the purge has been going pretty well.  And, for the most part, the urge to binge is leaving with it.  Without the promise of a purge, my mind won't let my body binge, for fear of excessive weight gain.  Dr. C keeps reminding me that I'm only supposed to be focusing on the purge, and not the binge.  But I keep reminding him that without the purge, I don't want the binge.  The concern is that I will inevitably, eventually, binge.  And I need to be prepared to deal with that in a way that does not involve a purge.  So my homework for the next few weeks is to plan and have a weekly binge, but under no condition am I to purge.  Part of the reason for this plan stems from my difficulty with down-time, and my fear of relapse on the weekends.  Rather than torturing myself by thinking ahead to a less-structured weekend, and the fear of the binge and relapse, and the overwhelming anxiety that I feel when I think about getting through a weekend without a binge, Dr. C suggested I give myself permission to binge.  That way, I don't really have to think about the stress throughout the week, because I know that come Saturday, I can binge if I want.  The caveat is that I cannot purge.

The experiment is to allow myself a weekly binge (sans purge), and see if it results in the immense weight gain I have conditioned myself to believe it will.  After all, the reason I purge after each binge is to combat the obvious weight gain that will occur.  But how much weight will I really gain if I just binge once a week?  Maybe it's not going to affect me at all.  Maybe it will be just enough that I can live with it.  Or, maybe it will be a lot, but worth it enough to up my exercise.

This past weekend, I actually had my binge on Friday night.  I was exhausted and grumpy after a busy week, and wanted nothing more than to hole up in my room and watch mind-numbing tv.  Which is exactly what I did.  I had a few cookies and treats when I first got home from work, and then I wasn't in the mood at all for a regular supper, so I just didn't have one.  The urge to binge was pretty high, but not overwhelming.  As I watched tv, I was thinking about the Reese Peanut Butter Chipits in the cupboard.  So I decided that I'd let myself eat as many of them as I wanted, and I did.  I ate a little over half of the bag, and then I fell asleep.  Mission accomplished!  Certainly not a huge binge, but a binge nonetheless, and one that was not followed by a purge!  I felt okay about it; not great, not terrible, just okay.  If I had been bingeing for a purge, I would have undoubtedly consumed the entire bag of chipits, along with a huge bag of chips and some licorice.  But I still think I passed the test -- why force myself to eat a bunch of food and feel miserable if I'm not in the mood for it?

I also need to thank my body for continuing to work, and work well, despite all the terrible treatment I've given it.  This morning, out of curiousity, and also as a benchmark for the experiment, I stepped on the scale.  I prepared myself for the worst - I was thinking/feeling 160's.  But you know what?  155!  That means I've dropped 3lbs since the disastrous 6lb gain over March Break.  Despite all of the ups and downs, irregular eating patterns, forced purges, and distended stomachs from greasy, salty, fatty, sugary, disgusting food, my body can still function as a normal, metabolic system.  After eating pretty well (but without restrictions), and regular exercise, my body has reset itself.  Thank you, body, I needed that.  It gives me hope that I can be a regular eater without being really overweight, which is one of my constant fears.  Of course I would still like to lose some, but I'm trying not to focus on that.

I'm training for a 10k race with a few friends, and it keeps me motivated to stay active and eat well to fuel my body.  As I train, getting in my regular runs and workouts, I try to focus on muscle strength and overall fitness rather than weight loss.  I know it's a bit of a superficial thing to say, because of course weight is always at the back of my mind, but my point is that I'm trying to keep it shelved along with ED.  My smaller jeans are still calling to me, hoping to be worn again in the near future.  And I would very much like to get back into them.  I think I will get there, but I think it's going to be a very slow and gradual process.  I'm okay with that, if it means that I can continue to eat without restriction and trust that my body will find its ideal set weight.  I just need to be okay when my body's ideal weight and my ideal weight aren't the same thing.  But maybe by then I'll realize that they are one and the same.

Check-In

Quick update: things are going well!  Small setback on the weekend, but back on track this week.  I'm super busy right now, so it's tough to get posts in, but it's great to keep ED at bay.  No time for his antics!

I will write very soon to talk about my newest homework from Dr. C.  I had a great session with him tonight!

For now I must sleep.  And dream sweet chocolatey dreams.  (The good kind.  Not the out-of-control kind where I dream I'm bingeing on a batch of brownie batter.  That used to happen a lot when I was first 'in recovery.'  The dreams, not the alliteration.)

Chocolate Permission

Chocolate Morning: small piece of black-bottom cheesecake (decadently rich and moist chocolate cake with cream cheese swirled throughout).

Chocolate Afternoon: another scrumptious bite of cake after work.

Chocolate Evening: lots of mini-eggs on the drive home from class.

Chocolate Dreams: coming up!

And I feel awesome about it.  I wanted it, I ate it, I enjoyed it.  This is a giant success for me.  

I had a good check-in chat with Dr. C yesterday.  I was nervous to tell him about my mangled March Break, but I was completely honest.  I also told him about the successful week prior to the Break, and my back-on-the-wagon week so far.  Overall, he said he is very pleased and thinks I made some excellent progress.  It was exactly what I needed to hear.  It's so hard to think about recovery as black-and-white; success and failure.  But the journey is long and there are bound to be detours, pit-stops, even accidents.  (My apologies for the lame metaphor - it's late.  I promise better next time.)

There are a couple of reasons I allowed myself so much chocolate today.  It didn't have to be chocolate, you see, I just wanted to eat for pleasure and without guilt.  After talking about the past weeks, Dr. C reminded me that my current goal/challenge is to get rid of the purge, not the binge.  It's too much to try to cut out both at the same time.  Now, he's not saying that I should sit and binge every day as much as I want, only that I should not be restricting my eating as much as I usually do when I'm 'in recovery' or eating healthily.  Usually I have to limit myself to very wholesome, healthy foods in order to keep the purge at bay.  You see, it's difficult to rationalize the chocolate, or any other 'junk' food, as part of my regular eating.  It usually leads to an unstoppable momentum of ED thoughts, and the inevitable binge.  Followed by the evil purge.

Really, if I take away the purge, I'm not going to binge anyway.  Sure, I'll occasionally overeat, and maybe I'll binge a bit, but I certainly won't plan to binge in nearly the same way.  If the possibility of a purge was eliminated from my life, I am quite confident that the binges would disappear, too.  I know I've said this before, but I feel like it's important to remind myself.  Exploring my recovery from the purge point of view is still pretty new; I've always thought the binge was the problem, and that I had to stop the binge in order to stop the purge. But it makes so much sense to stop the purge first.  I am so much happier without purge in my life.

He haunts my thoughts, he's pissed I've been ignoring him.  Which leads me to another reason for all the chocolate.  I had to go to the grocery store tonight.  I was hungry and tired.  Talk about asking for trouble.  

As I wandered the aisles, at first I purposely diverted my eyes from the tasty items.

And then I peeked.

And then I started thinking about just giving in and buying a few things.  

And then I really started to plan a binge.  

And then, I decided that I would just buy some mini-eggs and allow myself to eat as many of them as I wanted.  

I gave myself chocolate permission.

And then I was fine.

ED backed off, almost right out of my thoughts.  Just that simple self-allowance, knowing that I would buy the treats and eat them, planning to do it out of pleasure and not out of guilt, well, it saved me.  It might seem like a small, passing moment in a grocery store, but I am certain that it was pivotal.  If I had broken down and given in to ED tonight, I guarantee it would have been the start of a terrible downward cycle.  I wouldn't have gone to the gym tomorrow, I would have binged all weekend, and then I would have really been a mess the next week.  But instead, I gave myself chocolate permission, and all the sudden ED didn't find it quite so fun.  ED is my rebellious kid who wants to get a tattoo behind my back, but the second I say, sure, I'll even help you pick out a design and drive you to the shop, he doesn't think it's quite so cool anymore.  I've taken away the element of secrecy, I've taken away the all-important "don't do that" that every kid invariably sees as a direct challenge.

Today, I had my cake, and I ate it.  Twice. 

Happy St. Chocolate's Day!

Dissipation

The fog has lifted.  I'm me again.  ED is a mind-control bastard and I can't even explain the complete mental shift that occurs.  Gah.

The return to routine after a week of March Break-ing is just what the doctor ordered.  There are many reasons I struggled over the break, but I think a big part of it is that I thought I was going to have a hard time and then just proved myself right.  I wish I had a more rebellious instinct.

I went to the gym today for the first time in over a year and it felt great!  Ok, the second part of that sentence is a lie.  It felt awful.  The treadmill sneered at me, mocking me with its low numbers and high heartrate, and the stair-climber wretched the sweat out of me on the first step.  I felt jiggly and out-of-breath, immediately sore, and not the least bit athletic.  But the fact that I walked through those doors and threw down a solid hour of work-out time is a huge accomplishment, and that feels great.  Just like writing an essay - the first lines are the hardest to get down, but once you've started in, it's much less daunting.

I'm feeling a little low because I stepped on the scale this morning and discovered (confirmed my suspicions) that I managed to gain 6 pounds in a week.  Remember how I was going on about not purging for two weeks, how much damage could I possibly do, blah blah blah.  Well, there you have it.  6 pounds.  With purging.  And this is an example of why bulimics are often average to overweight.  And why, when I'm at my worst -- bingeing and purging the most --  I'm usually at my heaviest.  It's the ultimate slap in the face.

Last week was exceptionally terrible because of the immense amount of guilt I felt with every binge and especially every purge.  There is always guilt, every single time, but it was intensified because of the two-week no-purge deal I made with Dr C.  And so, as I often do when I'm trying to 'teach myself a lesson,' I don't allow myself to purge everything.  And I wait for a very long time before a purge, so less of it will come up.  It's not necessarily a conscious thing, only something I realized upon reflection a while back.  It's a flawed logic that I'm not entirely certain about, I just know it's a recurring thought pattern and practice.

Enough about last week.  I don't want to go exploring through the fog for fear of getting lost in it.  Today is a good day, and I am going to turn it into a good week.

Well put

www.peak.sfu.ca/the-peak/96-1/issue5/bulimia.html

Quotes that move me

It's been a difficult week.  For me, a big part of ED is isolation, even from my own thoughts.  Or, more accurately, from processing the endless barrage of thoughts.  I was browsing through some great websites this weekend, and came across a wonderful collection of quotes.  Some of them really reached me on an emotional level.  (ED makes me cry.  A lot.  At everything.  I hate admitting this.  I never allow it to happen publicly.  But I'm a mess.)  

These are the ones that either stabbed my heart, made me laugh, gave me pause, or felt like they were pulled right from my own thoughts.

"You don't have a soul. You are a soul. You have a body."
C.S. Lewis

"Whenever I feel the need to exercise, I lie down until it goes away."
Robert Maynard Hutchins

"We don't see things as they are, we see them as we are."
Anaïs Nin

"One good thing about music, when it hits you, you feel no pain."
Bob Marley

"All you need is love. But a little chocolate now and then doesn't hurt."
Charles M. Schulz

"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, 'Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?' Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others."
Marianne Williamson (A Return to Love: Reflections on the Principles of a Course in Miracles)

"There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you."
Maya Angelou

"we accept the love we think we deserve."
Stephen Chbosky (The Perks of Being a Wallflower)

"Time you enjoy wasting, was not wasted."
John Lennon

"I'm not upset that you lied to me, I'm upset that from now on I can't believe you."
Friedrich Nietzsche

"It takes courage to grow up and become who you really are."
E.E. Cummings

"Be careful about reading health books. You may die of a misprint."
Mark Twain

"Never tell the truth to people who are not worthy of it."
Mark Twain

"I believe in pink. I believe that laughing is the best calorie burner. I believe in kissing, kissing a lot. I believe in being strong when everything seems to be going wrong. I believe that happy girls are the prettiest girls. I believe that tomorrow is another day and I believe in miracles."
Audrey Hepburn

"When we honestly ask ourselves which person in our lives mean the most to us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a warm and tender hand. The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing, not curing, not healing and face with us the reality of our powerlessness, that is a friend who cares."
Henri J.M. Nouwen (The Road to Daybreak: A Spiritual Journey)

"There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed."
Ernest Hemingway

In lieu of writing about failure . . .

Interesting comparison to the first one.

Anatomy of a Purge

FAIL.

Eating is my trigger.  Food is my trigger.  How is recovery ever going to be possible?

Went out for dinner with my family today.  Ordered the turkey sandwich on whole wheat, with a cup of turkey veg soup on the side.  Ordered it because I wanted it, because it was a good choice, because purging was not an option.  If the purge had been an option, I would have ordered chicken fingers and fries.  Correction: I would have wanted the chicken fingers and fries, but would have begrudgingly ordered the sandwich and soup to keep up appearances for my family. (I'm usually not fooling anyone.  I know.)  The point is, I ordered what I wanted because I knew it would taste good but not trigger a binge/purge.  Partial success.  And yet a complete piss-off, because even while I was eating the tasty soup and just-fair sandwich, I was thinking about a potential binge.  I was daydreaming about a trip to the grocery store and an afternoon of junkfood.

Questions:

• Is it just habit?  I'm still pretty fresh into the no-purge routine, so there are still a lot of habits to break.
• Do my thoughts happen because I've built an association between food and more food?  Am I Pavlov's Dog?  Can I be de-conditioned?
• Were the thoughts triggered, not because of eating, but because I was unsatisfied with what I was eating?  Should I have gone for the fries and then just dealt with the temptation to purge on its own?  I'm supposed to be focusing on the purge, not the binge, so maybe I should have had the greasy meal and forced myself to keep it down?
• How am I supposed to be okay with eating like crap?  I know, it's just two weeks.  But it's TWO WHOLE WEEKS.  
• What is wrong with my brain? 

I didn't go to the grocery store.  I didn't purge.  I didn't binge.  I went home, had a cookie, loved every bite of it, and proceeded to give my room a major overhaul.  I re-arranged furniture, I changed the bedding, I vacuumed, I took out the garbage.  I disposed of all past binge evidence (wrappers, etc), and turned my room into a fresh mental space.  This is a regular part of recovery for me -- I need to clear my life and my head and prepare for a fresh start.  Once everything was clean, I relaxed for a few hours, reading and watching tv, and even nibbling on some licorice.  Mindfully, not chaotically.  Occasional thoughts of bingeing, but nothing out-of-control.

Then it was time to check on the dog.  (I'm house/dog-sitting all week.)  I planned just to let the dog out, feed her, and come back home.  But I felt bad for her, so I decided to stay for a few hours and just make supper there.  After rummaging through the cupboards and fridge to see what needed to be used up, I settled on broccoli and mushroom stirfry with basmati rice.  I genuinely wanted it, knew it would be tasty and satisfying, and was excited to make and eat it.  As I was cooking, things started to fall apart.

The brownie mix that has been on my mind since my first peek in the cupboard started harassing me.  The drawer of chips, the boxes of crackers, the buttery popcorn, and the multiple cheeses begged for my attention.  I considered calling someone, or at least sending a text, to confess my struggling thoughts and ask for help.  But ED didn't let me.  And then it just happened.  The decision was made, the binge began.  I ate the stir-fry, and it was delicious.  I told myself to stop, I had eaten what I planned to eat and that was enough.  But it was futile.  I finished off a bag of plain chips and had a can of pop.  Then I mixed up the brownies and ate most of the batter.

Purge.

I almost talked myself out of it, or at least gave it a good shot.  Told myself I didn't deserve to purge, that I needed to keep it in to feel the grossness of it, to teach myself a lesson.  ED didn't listen to me.  And then, as if I hadn't had enough, I went for round two.  Cracked black pepper Triscuits with Tex-Mex cheese melted on top.  Buttery popcorn with extra butter and cheese melted on it.  Baked the remaining brownie batter and ate the brownies.  Another can of pop.

Purge.

Seriously.  Twice?  In a row?  I HATE YOU, ED.  I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU.

I feel ashamed, guilty, sad, frustrated, upset, broken.  And I would be lying if I said I haven't been thinking about it, anticipating it, dreading it, certain of it, since Friday when I found out I would be house-sitting.  I need to keep writing about it to take away the shame and the dark secrecy, which ED so maliciously thrives on.  It's like I kept justifying it to myself by saying it would be the only time, that I needed to get it out of my system, that I deserved it, like a last cigarette.  And part of me would still like to believe that I did get it out of my system.  Another part of me is thinking about the icing sugar, the milk chocolate chips, and the ice cream.  There, and now they are powerless because I have confessed the thoughts.

I need to keep myself around people, and I need to build up the voice in my head to combat ED, to listen to myself when I think I should call someone, to fight against the underhanded justifications that lead back into the terrible cycle time and time again.  This cannot be a slip, it is just a slip-up.

Words are weaker than love. 

Which is what I have for you.

I love you when you succeed and when you struggle. I never love you less. I accept you as you are. And so should you. Fight the eating disorder but don't hate yourself when you slip.

I'm here. 

♥

Thank-you to my beautiful friend Gitsy, who knew just what I would need to hear.

Long post, and still so much more I could write.  Thank you for bearing with me through all of this.  I figure the more I can flesh out, the better I'll be able to target some cause/effect, and the more ammo I'll have to fight this bastard ED.  Good night for now.  Any positive vibes you could send my way are much appreciated -- tomorrow will be a better day :)

A week of weekend

This weekend is considerably better than the last.  Still purge-free, and my spirits are up.  I am always a much happier person when I'm not engaging in ED behaviors, yet I continue to go back to them.  Moods are an amazing thing, I and I do not understand how I can go from being happy and confident and convinced of my recovery in one moment, to depressed and lonely and overwhelmed and resigned to failure the next.  When I'm in a low, I don't even want to think about recovery or any happy times.  I think it's a natural part of a bad mood - sometimes you just want to revel in it.  And then when I'm doing really well, I think to myself, how could I have ever felt that low?  How did I live that way?  I'll never go back to it.  Never.  And then BAM.  Something happens and I'm three rows into the Double-Stuffed Oreos.

I hate to think about the eventual (inevitable) slip, but I think maybe it's a good thing.  I want to know what my triggers are, and how to push through in those moments of weakness and relapse.  Certainly something I will spend time talking to Dr. C about.  If only there was a magic pill to pop that would take all the temptations and ED thoughts away.  So often I wish for a solution in pill-form.  I've even tried a few, but nothing with long-term success.

I have to admit I cheated with the scale today.  I have been doing well not to purge, even though I know I have been eating more than I feel comfortable with.  I just wanted to step on to gauge the damage, and I guess to make sure I haven't ballooned.  I was shocked (RELIEVED) to see that I haven't gained anything, not a single pound.  How can that be?  How can I be so entirely convinced I've turned back into a blubbery whale, when really I'm exactly the same?  Even though I'm not supposed to be tied to the scale right now, I actually think seeing that number this morning helped me get through today.  I should probably be worried about what that means, and what would have happened if I had been as much heavier as I thought I would be.

There were a few difficult moments today when I was very tempted to binge.  I made two delicious meals today, which is something I normally do during recovery.  I love to cook, and I love to cook healthy meals.  For lunch I made a chicken and veggie stirfry on rice noodles with garlic hoisin sauce.  Pretty tasty.  For supper I cut up chicken breasts, dredged them in flour and egg whites, and then rolled them in a parmesean-reggiano cheese blend with a spicy pepper seasoning thrown in.  To go with the chicken, I cut up some sweet potato and baked.  Another delicious meal.  Both were completely satisfying, and both were reasonable portions.  And both made me want to continue eating the rest of the kitchen contents.  I was able to stop myself after a cookie or two, and supplemented with pop just to keep my hands and mouth busy.  It's scary that every time I eat, I experience that out-of-control feeling that makes me want to binge.  The only reason I can stop is that I'm so deep into my thoughts right now.  When I'm in a regular binge-purge cycle, it's more like auto-pilot.  No thoughts involved, just a reach into the cupboard for the next bite, repeat until purge.  I fought the urge to eat all of the milk chocolate chips in the top cupboard.  I fought the urge to consume the entire bag of licorice I keep talking about.  I fought the urge to whip up a batch of cookie dough and eat it, raw and delicious.  I am acutely aware of how much food is in the house at all times.  I know where people keep their leftover holiday goodies, I know when a bag of chips gets tucked away in the back closet, I know when there are peanut butter chips in the baking cupboard.  Like a thief who knows where the valuables are, I am always aware of the food.  It calls to me, imprints on my brain, and doesn't let me forget.

I'm proud of my successes so far, but I'm still very worried about next week.  Weekends are my toughest times because there is no routine, and there are way too many opportunities to binge.  Now it's March Break, which is an entire week of weekend.  Bad timing?  Or the best timing?  If I can make it through this, it will be both a huge accomplishment and a great example of persevering through the worst.

Maybe I should get a tongue piercing so my mouth will be sore and I won't be able to eat or purge without difficulty and discomfort.  Now there's an idea. Hahahaha. Oh, you would be laughing if you knew me.

Mind Battle

I reallllllllllllllly want to binge.  Today was/is hard.  And now it's March Break, which means I'll have way too much free time.  Free time usually means binge time.  Plus I'll be house-sitting, which means I'll have the entire place to myself.  Stocked cupboards, beautiful kitchen, empty house, nobody to hide from.

It's Friday night, and all I want to do is eat the entire bag of licorice (still unopened) and finish off the Cajun nut mix.  But I know that if I do that, I will purge.  I can't purge.  And if I can't purge, I can't binge.  All day long I've been fighting with myself.

ED: Just one purge - it's okay, you deserve it, it's March Break, you need to treat yourself.    It's bad timing anyway, you know you'll never make it through next week, you might as well just start now.  Why waste this time struggling when you could be eating.  

My weak little voice: Well, you're probably right.  But I just can't do it.  I promised Dr. C.  Two weeks.  I can't fail at this, or there's no hope for me ever recovering.  

ED: Idiot.  You're going to be so unhappy and bored.  I'll always be here, taunting you, so why try to get rid of me?  Just go ahead and eat as much as you want, there's no reason to restrain yourself, you're just going to fall apart later anyway.  Licorice!  A whole bag!  Even if you don't purge, you should probably just eat it all so it's gone.  Fresh start tomorrow.

Me, caving: Yeah, that's a good point.  I should probably get rid of all the temptations now and start fresh.  

ED: Right?  Plus, you already ate a whole bag of mini-eggs today.  And let's face it, they're sitting right on your fat roll.  Probably won't feel very good in your jeans if you go out tonight.  You're already starting to gain weight, and unless you purge, you're going to grow right back out of those pants you were so excited to fit back into.

Me, fading: I know.  I'm so frustrated about the mini-eggs.  I didn't mean to eat the whole bag.  But what else was I supposed to do?  They were there.  Jersey Shore was on.  Watching tv without eating is like driving without the radio on.  

ED: Bingeing without purging is like shitting without wiping your ass.

Me, annoyed: Frig.  I hate it when you're right.

ED: Don't write about this you moron, just give yourself a break and bust open the licorice.  You can do better tomorrow.

Me, empty: I have to write.  It's the only thing I can think of to stop me from bingeing.  Why is this so hard. 

WHY. IS. THIS. SO.  HARD.

I wish there was a sedative I could take to knock everything out of my brain.  I just don't want to think about it.  I don't want to fight.  I don't want to have to decide, every second of every day, not to cram everything edible into my mouth, not to stick my fingers down my throat.  For now I'm going to leave the licorice alone.  ED is trying to trick me into eating it, telling me I don't have to purge.  But I know I will.  I know that if I eat the whole bag, I will purge.  That is a fact.  I'm already pushing the limits with the mini-eggs.  For now I will get a can of pop, maybe play the piano for a while, and try to distract myself from the incessant mindbattle.  I win this one, but I'm really nervous for March Break.  What should I do?

Is 'disappointing hotdog' an oxymoron?

I am so happy to report that I have not purged in three days!

I was pretty much dreading my therapy session this week because I knew what my homework would be -- to give up the purge.  I've been writing about it a lot, but I've been thinking about it even more.  My previous homework was to put the scale away, and as tough as it was to do in the beginning, it has been surprisingly freeing.  And so far, I can say the same thing about the purge.

Dr. C's challenge to me is to not purge for two weeks, no matter what.  I'm not supposed to worry about eating, I'm just not allowed to purge.  To anybody with an eating disorder, this is a ludicrous challenge.  In the past, I've always tried to give up the binge first, therefore eliminating my need to purge.  This time, I'm to give up the purge first, without worrying about trying to control the binge.  Dr. C made the excellent point that trying to worry about both is too much.  In the past, giving up the binge meant a complete switch to clean, healthy eating, in order to control the urge to binge through eliminating trigger foods from my diet.  I find it nearly impossible to eat a piece of licorice without wanting the whole bag.  I struggle to eat any kind of delicious food without stopping.  Sometimes any food, no matter how healthy or bland it is, triggers the binge.  A little taste of the poison, begging for more.  So to cut off my escape route (the purge) while still allowing myself to eat junk seems like a recipe for disaster.  And by disaster, I mean weight gain.  And the eventual return to the purge.  But all he's asking for is two weeks.  Two weeks without purging, and then I can go back to it if I choose.  Surely I can give him (me!) two weeks -- it's a reasonable amount of time, and even if I binge terribly every day, there's only so much weight I can pack on in two weeks.  It's scary/frustrating to think about gaining even a bit of weight, since I fought/fight so hard to lose it, but it's not the end of the world. And if it is the end of the world, I guess I'll just die a bit chubbier.

What I'm quickly realizing is how differently I eat for a purge.  I first noticed it at the mall food court on Tuesday before my session.  In anticipation of suspending the purge, I wanted to test myself a little bit.  It was suppertime, I was hungry, and I wanted something greasy and delicious.  But I also told myself I wouldn't purge.  Purging in a public bathroom is beyond disgusting, which I'm sad to say I know from experience.  After a lengthy battle in my mind between choosing Subway (healthier - won't make me uncomfortably full, won't make me feel like I need to purge, this is what a healthy me would choose) and New York Fries (this is what I really want, this is super greasy and tasty, this will make me feel the need to purge), I eventually convinced myself to go for it and get a hot dog and fries at New York Fries.  And no matter what, I wouldn't purge.  I've gotta tell you, that was the least satisfying hot dog and fries I've ever had.  I was expecting to devour every bite and then feel guilty and stuffed and disgusting afterword.  Instead, I noticed the hot dog tasted just fair.  The bun-to-dog ration was too high; they use big sausage buns.  I was hoping for a greasy wiener, a soft, buttered bun (lightly toasted), and perfectly drizzled line of ketchup to top it off.  Instead, I got a long, rubbery dog, and a dry, lukewarm sausage bun.  The fries were just alright, which is disappointing when the name of the franchise leads me to believe they will be amazing.  They looked amazing, all thick and salty with the skins still on, but they tasted a bit like old grease.  These things - the subtleties of taste - are things I would have never noticed if I was eating with a purge in mind.  I would have just scarfed it all down, assumed it tasted great, and felt terrible about it.  Instead, I quit halfway through the dog, worked my way through a few more of the fries, and eventually tossed the rest of it into the garbage.  I was conscious of each bite, and realized that, without the purge, there was no reason to continue eating after I wasn't enjoying it.  I was just throwing calories into my body, calories that I wouldn't be getting rid of, and they weren't even delicious calories.

It seems so simple.  Just be mindful.  But it's not that simple.  Directly following my food court experience, I headed to Walmart to pick up some binge food.  I'm not sure why I did that.  Mostly out of habit, and because I had been thinking about it all day.  I bought a package of Pull-n-Peel licorice, a large bag of Cadbury Mini-Eggs, and a bag of Cajun nut mix.  The makings of a perfect binge: candy, chocolatey, salty/carby.   And the whole time I was sitting in Dr C's office, talking about giving up the purge, those treats were on my mind.  They were taunting me.  I had already sabotaged myself.  So you know what I did?  I told Dr. C about it.  I told him exactly what I bought, and what I planned to do with it, which was to go home that night directly after our session and eat it all.  Just telling him took away some of its power over me.  He told me to go ahead and eat it, as much as I felt like, but that I couldn't purge.  I didn't want to start off my two weeks by cheating -- it would be a recipe for disaster.  I wouldn't want to look back on my two weeks and have it tainted by a secret binge/purge.  He suggested that I allow myself to eat some of the snacks on the drive home to take the edge off the craving.  And I did just that.  I ate lots of mini-eggs, and I enjoyed every damn one. I had quite a few more mini-eggs after I got home as I was finishing some computer work, and I even cracked into the Cajun mix.  But I didn't purge.  I stopped eating both before the bags were empty.  That, in itself, is a huge accomplishment!  And guess what?  There is still some Cajun mix left, and I haven't even opened the bag of licorice!  You have no idea what a big deal that is!  The fact that they are in my room and not in my belly is no small thing.

Knowing that I do not have an 'out' is taking away the desire to binge.  Well, that's not entirely accurate.  I still have the urge.  But when I remind myself that there is no purge, the temptation dwindles.  I'm forcing myself to stop and think before I eat, which is a huge step.  In the past few days I haven't been eating very healthfully, but I haven't been bingeing.  Today I had a giant piece of pizza and two pieces of delicious cake for lunch.  And I was ok with it.  Eliminating the purge stops the floodgates from opening.  If the purge had been an option, I'm sure I would have had another giant piece of pizza and a few more pieces of cake.  Not because I was hungry or unsatisfied, but just because they were there, and if I was going to purge anyway, I might as well make it worth it.  All or nothing.

I find it difficult to end these posts because my thoughts never stop.  I want to flesh everything out, to write about every thought that is connected to the purge and the non-purge, to discuss the pros and cons and what it might mean for my eventual recover, to get into every up and down and struggle I face during the day.  I hate feeling like I haven't said everything.  But I guess that's what keeps me coming back, and hopefully you, too!  For now I am happy to be proud of myself for these three days, and for being positive about the 11 more to come before my next visit with Dr. C.  I want to do this, I can do this, I am doing this, I will do this.

Suck it, Purge.

Two Weeks

Starting RIGHT NOW, I have to go two weeks without purging.  It's part of my homework.  I can do this.  More about it tomorrow.

Fact: Keeping the purge, and trying to eliminate the binge through sheer will-power, will result in failure.

Fact: Continuing to purge will lead to chaotic eating.

Waste

100 pageviews and climbing as of this weekend! Wow.  Considering I've literally only told one person about this, I'm pretty amazed.  I am also curious about you . . . 

This weekend was rough, as you can probably tell from my last post.  And that was just the beginning.  I am feeling completely slothful, gluttonous, selfish, unmotivated, and utterly wasteful.  Waste waste waste.  I am kept constant company by waste and shame.  The downward spiral has been slowly sneaking up on me, disguised by the brief highs and the weird positivity I referenced in an earlier post.  I have absolutely no desire to do even the smallest shred of work, activity, anything that could be considered an accomplishment.  It's been a long weekend, and I have managed to do NOTHING.  Well, I sure did eat a lot.  And had a couple of exceptionally unenjoyable purges.  And I'm caught up on practically every tv show on the air, past or present.

I have wasted time, so much time, and not just this weekend.  In the life of ED, I have spent so much time bingeing, planning to binge, talking myself into purging, avoiding the purge, and purging.  I've wasted so much money on food, on treatment, on medication.  I've wasted life, relationships, opportunities.  I've thrown so much down the toilet (metaphorically and literally) that I just can't bear to think about it sometimes.  The waste that has played partner-in-crime to ED over the past years is staggering.  I am acutely aware of just how much waste there is every time I get back into a healthy recovery lifestyle.  The time, especially, is what amazes me -- I always have so much of it!  What to do, what to do.  And it's always like there is a mental haze that lifts, and my energy levels skyrocket, and all of the sudden I'm cleaning my room, organizing my music, completing work that should have been done ages ago, making music, making jewellery, exercising, cooking, reading, and doing everything a normal (sans ED) me finds joy in.  But ED weighs me down, mentally and physically, and then weekends go by with hardly a movement from my bed.  The depths.  Of ED, of anxiety, of depression, of shame.

Here I sit, my throat raw from the purge, my work unfinished from sheer inability to convince my brain to function, my already dwindling bank account overdrawn from treat purchases, and my skin ashen, eyes red, dark circles, all from the stress of the purge and the vast amounts of grease, salt, and sugar I've been pouring into myself.  I am a mess.  And I don't even know how to describe the mental state.  I'm avoiding a purge.  Because I really want it to be my last purge.

Tomorrow I have a meeting with my therapist.  My last challenge was to get rid of the scale, which I've been quite successful with.  I know the next step is to say goodbye to the purge, and to do whatever it takes to make it happen (or not happen, I suppose).  I'm terrified.  I'm terrified of what it will take, I'm terrified of failure, I'm half terrified of success.  What if I give up the purge and the binge keeps happening?  ED has been such a huge part of me for so long that it's like ending a really important relationship.  Even though it's a completely unhealthy and detrimental relationship, it's still been a consuming one.  I don't know how to spend my time without ED, I don't know what to think about, I don't now how to make it through the evening, I don't know who I am.  At the same time, who I am has nothing to do with ED and I can't wait to get that little shit out of my life.  But right now he's in my brain and I cannot clearly see/remember who I am without him.

So off I go, to the bathroom, to tear at my throat and corrode my tooth enamel and burst the tiny vessels under my eyes and scrape my knuckles on my teeth and strain my back and stare at myself in the mirror with disgust and defeat and disappointment.  I want this to be the last one.  The fight is being sucked out of me and as the tears roll down my face I am terrified.  What if I fail.  And what if I don't.

dear weekend, I fall apart

Can of Pringles - original
Bag of Lays - wavy
Cadbury Dairy Milk chocolate bar - king sized
Cadbury Toffe bits chocolate bar - king sized
Caramilk bar - king sized
Hershey's Cookies n' Creme bar
Bag of Nibs licorice - family size
Bag of Pull n' Peels licorice
Chinese food -- fried rice, chicken ball, spare rib
2 cans of pop -- diet grapefruit (sounds so lame, tastes so delicious)
Kraft Dinner made with sausage, peppers, and onions - heaping plate
Carrot cake batter - generous spoon licks
Cream cheese frosting - SO MUCH
Cookie dough - whole batch

Weekends are the worst.

may I have a wordle with you?

Ever heard of a Wordle? It's a cool site that takes any text and creates an interesting world cloud.  I linked my blog in, and this is the result.  The size of each word is relative to how often it appears.  Interesting food for thought.

this is why i fight

I had to turn around and write this while I'm high on the feeling (of happiness - too often a rare commodity), because I know I won't be able to fake it for a re-tell tomorrow.  Moods are a crazy thing.  I just finished posting "baby steps and horses," literally minutes ago, but I just have to share what happened between then and now.

It started with picking out clothes for work tomorrow.  Yeah, I am kind of a geek that way.  But it's amazing the time I can waste in the morning, just standing in front of the closet, trying to throw together some sort of presentable mash of an outfit.  I'm not a great morning person, and I already mentioned my ineptitude for punctuality.  I don't usually try on the clothes, but I wasn't sure this combo would work, so I put it on.  It sucked.  But I found a better option.  The mirror was kind, and the freshly-washed pants were surprisingly un-tight.   Cue a burst of joy!  Feeling high on joy, and a little risky, I decided to open the bottom drawer of pants and try on the pair I've been avoiding.  I'm in my medium weight range right now -- I have a whole wardrobe for smaller than my current size, and another one for larger.  (Perk/curse of being a fluctuater.)  These bottom-drawer pants are on the cusp of the smaller me, and most memories I have of wearing them are from weights lower than this.  But I went for it.  And they pulled up over my hips!  And then they buttoned without a fight!  And then my brain started singing "the pair of pants fit" to the tune of La Cucaracha.  So joyful I was, that I went a little wild and tried on a few more pairs!  I am currently wearing a pair of jeans that I haven't even bothered to look at in over a year, and my stomach isn't rolling dubiously over the sides!  I tried on a few pair that are too loose and I can now relegate to the pile of unwearables.  So long, fatpants.  

(Information you should probably know: I'm not a bone-thin bulimic with distorted body image issues. I'm a pretty short gal, and I've always been very curvacious.  Meaty, if you will.  My adult weight has been between 137 and 179.  Right now I'm flirting with low 150's.  I don't have much desire to drop below 140.  So when I say fatpants, I'm not referring to a size 3, I'm talking double-digits.)

It's a wonderful feeling of accomplishment, success, and most importantly, validation.  Any weight that I have lost has been in a healthy way, through proper eating and regular exercise.  The binge/purge only allows me to either maintain, or more likely, to gain.  I need to hold on to the feeling I have right now -- the pride, the joy, the hope -- because I know these pants are buttoned because I ate my veggies and did a little sweating.  Yes, it's been mixed with a lot of terrible behaviors, but I have to hold on to the positives.

And the last thing.  The reason that I'm up late tonight is because I'm trying on pants that fit!  I'm happily dancing around my room to a Mexican cockroach melody (refer to link), instead of bunched under the covers, finishing off the evening's binge, begrudging the inevitable purge.  I would much rather give my late nights to small pants and music than ED and a toilet.  When I'm tired tomorrow, I'll be much happier about it.

This feeling.  Right now.  This is why I fight.

baby steps and horses

"It starts off with my thinking about the food that I deny myself when I am dieting. This soon changes into a strong desire to eat. First of all it is a relief and a comfort to eat, and I feel quite high. But then I can’t stop, and I binge. I eat and eat frantically until I am absolutely full. Afterward I feel so guilty and angry with myself.”

                                    Dr. Christopher G. Fairburn
                                    Overcoming Binge Eating


Sometimes I read something and wonder if the author snatched the thoughts right out of my head.  This would be a prime example.  Bulimia is a pretty isolating thing, so it's nice to be reminded that there are many others out there who are having the same thoughts, struggles, and experiences.  I often feel so completely messed up in the head, with the constant anxious thoughts, and the endless battle between the ED thoughts, the voice of opposition (the "I want to be healthy" thoughts), and the false front (the lies I tell myself, the thought that goes into the front I build for other people).  It's a struggle.  I am exhausted at the end of every day.  It's a mental battle.  A full-on war, really.  I'm sooooooooo sick of fighting.


My most recent goal/challenge has been to put away the scale, and I am happy to report that I have been doing very well with that.  Better than I thought, really.  I feel a bit of freedom from the numbers.  The only thing working against it is that I am currently enrolled in a weight loss program (Simply for Life - prepaid until end of March).  I started in September, and at the beginning it was wonderful.  I had a renewed vigor for recovery, I very successfully cleaned up my eating habits, and I even lost quite a bit of the weight I had gained through extreme bingeing for long periods of time.  But then I gave in to the inevitability of a descent back into the gripping cycle of bulimia.  The above quote quite accurately describes a small part of the mental process.  So now I'm still practicing SFL by day, and ED by night.  I'm the superhero from hell.    The point I'm trying to get to is that I am committed to a weekly weigh-in (other things happen during the session but I'm making a scale-related point.  Well, trying to.  It's really hard to reel these thoughts in when there are so damn many of them).  I was planning to skip the weigh-in.  Not because I wanted to adhere to my no-scale mission.  I think a weekly weigh-in is very reasonable.  But because I was nervous that I would see a gain.  I would not handle that well.  Before my session, I jumped on the scale. I was surprised to see that I was actually down a bit.   So of course I was happy to get on the giant platform scale -- you know, the kind that doctors have, with all the metal sliders; the kind that makes you feel like a horse.  


I'm not sure how to interpret the weight loss, no matter how small.  Those of you who struggle with weight will understand that even the smallest loss means something, but even the smallest gain is devastating.  I think it's a positive reflection of getting rid of the scale.  I judge every day (without necessarily meaning to) based on the number I see on the morning or at the end of the day.  Bad number = bad day.  Bad mood, bad eating, purging, no exercise.  Perhaps I can deduce that by not weighing myself anymore, I am not as inclined to base my day on a feeling about a number, therefore less bad eating days are happening.  Or perhaps this is just a fluke, because I know very well what I've been eating, and in reality, it just means that I've been a better purger.  And that was hard to type.  I hate to even give the purge this victory, but mostly I hate to have to be honest about it.  The purge is so much more vicious about it's privacy.


Despite all of the struggles I continue to have, and the constant frustrations and negative thoughts, I am trying to hold onto the small step toward victory I have taken by removing the scale from my daily routine.  I am forcing myself to see it as an important element in the overall picture of recovery.  It's a step forward.  I'm scared that I will gain a ton of weight without the scale holding me accountable.  But at least for now I'll have a weekly check-in.  Maybe next time I can be brave enough to step on to the horseweigher without a safety pre-weigh?

Panic

Sometimes,

when my head is hung in shame

just above the rim, staring

at the mess of a fresh purge,

with guilt

with relief

with disgust

with satisfaction,

I hear footsteps coming down the hall.

Panic.

And then I realize,

it's just the sound of my heart

beating against my ears.

I wasn't aware that I wasn't aware

This week (Feb 20 - 26) is National Eating Disorder Awareness Week (NEDAW). I've contemplated posting a link or message of support/awareness via my Facebook profile, but I'm just not strong/sure enough to do it.  As you can probably tell by my posts, the disorder isn't a public part of my life.  Even to the handful of close family and friends who know, I am very private about it, and I am thankful they don't push or pry.  I hate that anyone knows, to be honest.  It's not that I don't appreciate the support and prayers, it's that I hate the idea that the eating disorder is now part of their image of me.  I very much see it as a weakness, and I'm not used to being weak.  I pride myself on being a big sister and a good friend, I am often in leadership roles, and I consider myself a good person to come to for advice, support, and motivation.  I'm uncomfortable sharing weakness, and particularly vulnerability, with people, which I think is a pretty normal thing.  Some say it humanizes me.

Well I can think of more preferable ways to show my 'human' side (assuming human means to err).

• Like watching me swear at Tony Horton during the Ab Ripper video when I can't grunt out more than three stupid ceiling stomps.  (Seriously, Eric, the beautiful man-dancer in the back corner, stop mocking me with your gleaming muscles and effortless pelvic tilts.)
• Or observing how terrible I am at driving a standard on a hill, even after 2 years.  I've left a lot of rubber on the road.
• Noticing how perpetually late I am.  Every time.  No matter what.  I just cannot be on time.  I hate time.
• Oh, and that time I crapped my pants.

As I was browsing through some of the information from the NEDA, I came across a list of health consequences for eating disorders.  None of this information is new to me, but for some reason it triggered the realization, like a ton of bricks hitting me in the face, that I am bulimic.  This probably sounds a little redundant or obvious.  But what I mean is that I started thinking about myself from an outside perspective, rather than from within my mind.  I am used to my life and my ED, so sometimes I forget that it's a big deal (even though it's ALWAYS on my mind).  But I am a statistic.  I am truly a person who has been suffering from bulimia for almost ten years.  I binge, I purge, I repeat.  I am at risk for every one of those health consequences, and if I wasn't so careful, I would probably be in the hospital already.  To be honest, sometimes I wish that I would just rupture my esophagus, or have some teeth fall out, or faint into the toilet of my own puke from heart palpatations, just so that I would be forced, medically, to stop.  Isn't that terrible?  I'm being honest.  And to be honest (let's say that word a bunch so we know it's for real!), I don't often like what ends up on this screen.  It's hard to believe how much I've even been protecting from my own thoughts for so many years.  

Even though I sometimes sneer at or doubt the effectiveness of  awareness campaigns (some are really lame), I have to admit, this one has worked on me.  Ridiculous, right?  What I need to do now is find a way to pass along the message, and hope even one person recognizes they have a problem, or can find words to help a friend.  For a little more reading, check out this list of common misperceptions about eating disorders.

Stolen Comics

In lieu of a wordy post today, I'm going to share some comics I've stumbled across.  I like to collect pictures, quotes, websites, etc, that amuse me.  (I'm not sure about copyright laws, but I'm certainly not intending to claim any of this work as my own!)

I hope you found some humor in these, as I did.  I think it's important to laugh at myself, even as I'm surrounded by chips and candy and feeling like 800 pounds of horse manure.   Maybe laughter really is the best medicine . . . if I laugh for hard and long enough, that counts as a workout, right?

is time standing still?

I mentioned in an earlier post that I spent some time in an in-treatment facility a few years ago.  At the time, I thought I was going to change my life, to fix myself for good.  (I notice I use/think the word 'fix' a lot.  I just wish someone, something, could fix me.)  Leading up to my decision to go was a low, low period where I was really in the depths of the disorder.  I didn't realize how bad I had let it become until my roommate, my sister, and a close friend held an intervention.  I was shocked, mortified, horrified, insulted, ashamed, indignant.  You name it, I felt it.  But it made me really start to think about how serious my problem was.  So I looked into a few options and decided that I wanted to get away, to really be submerged in healing and recovery.  I learned a lot about myself during my short time there, and I had a lot of successes, but it didn't fix me.  Thousands of dollars.  Imagine the exponential shame with each binge/purge after that.  I flush my money down the toilet, almost literally.

Tonight I want to share some clips from a journal I kept while I was there.  They're pretty raw thoughts; a peek into the frantic/anxious mind of ED.

"I’m really happy with my eating this weekend, although I still don’t like the immediate feeling of very full I feel after every meal, regardless of how much I eat.  Like tonight, I know I ate a lot of carrots and watermelon but not much more than I think is a healthy portion.  But I just feel so full, and it makes me second-guess myself and wonder if I’m eating too much.  Like what if after all this healthy eating I manage to put on weight, if not lose any.  I feel like I’m losing a little bit, but I still despise the tightness of most of the pants I have here.  Why the hell didn’t I pack more jeans that fit right now?  And t-shirts and casual clothes.  Getting dressed every day is annoying."

"I’m nervous for and also looking forward to the session with the dietitian this afternoon.  I’m going to ask to be weighed, and even though it will be after lunch and fully clothed, I’m going to try really hard to accept it.  I keep worrying that I will gain weight because maybe I’m eating too much, but I don’t really want to cut much out, and what if I’m meant to be chubby for the rest of my life."

". . . the last thing I ever want to happen during a binge is someone confronting me about it.  And nothing anyone else can do will bring me out of it, only make me go deeper into the self-doubt, depression and regret.  And then it takes even longer to come out of it."

"I had a session with a counselor and we talked a bit about the way I take on other peoples' emotions and am really sensitive to what other people are feeling.  I also too often project what I think the other person might or could be thinking onto them.  I don’t like to cause unnecessary worry or burden to people but I often assume it will be that without giving them the chance."

It's hard reading through some of my old journals.  Mostly because I'm so frustrated at how little I've changed/grown/progressed.  I'm a smart, educated, successful woman.  I have never been abused or ridiculed, I've had a pretty great life, and I'm not overly sensitive to media images or society's labels of beauty.  Yet I cannot figure this out, I can't fix it, I can't get better, no matter how hard I try.  I keep coming back to it, and with each relapse the sense of failure is compounded.  How many more tries until I get it right?

meet Purge, my evil boyfriend

I've been really struggling with the idea of giving up the purge.  When I think about giving up the binge, I am overwhelmed and prepared for failure, but I can at least wrap my head around letting it go.  When I think about giving up the purge, I am instantly filled with anxious thoughts and a dark, stubborn voice that won't really even consider it to be an option.  I haven't realized the difference between my attachment to the binge and the purge until very recently.  I think of them as a package deal, because they always have been.   Here is the key difference: I can give up the binge, but the purge won't give me up.  The purge is the controlling one in this relationship.  If I take away the purge, I take away the only effective counterpart to the binge.

Characteristics of the Binge: fun, happy, persistent, addictive, gluttonous, excessive, enjoyable.
Characteristics of the Purge: possessive, dark, shameful, controlling, disgusting, hurtful, inescapable, manipulative.

If I had a boyfriend with the characteristics of Binge, it would be hard to break up with him.  I would realize that he is heading in a direction I don't want to go, and I would probably get tired of being roped into his constant excesses.  But I could break it off because he is a jolly fellow, and he would let me go, and give me power to do so.

On the other hand, if my boyfriend had the characteristics of Purge, it would be much harder to get out of the relationship.  It's a classic abusive relationship, and the worst part is, I let myself be convinced every time that I need him (it).  And every time I get away, out of his clutches, he follows me around, taunting me, promising I need him, and that I can have more fun with him around, even if I'll have to pay for it.

I follow a blog that tracks smokers who are trying to quit.  This morning as I was browsing through the latest posts, I read something that really caught my interest.  One of the writers/quitters said that when he's having a hard time with cravings, he think about a heroin addict trying to recover, and how much harder it would be to make it through that.  At first I just kind of laughed, but then I thought, that is an excellent point.  I don't have to suffer through physical withdrawal symptoms, my heart is not at risk of stopping, I won't have petrifying hallucinations.  I just have to stop.  I have to battle with the constant thoughts and temptations, but what is that compared to trying to fight through a serious drug addiction?

Which brings me to this: food is my drug.  I one hundred percent believe that food is an addiction that many people experience.  And the worst of it is, we can't avoid it.  You can get through life without having to drink alcohol, without having to use drugs.  But in order to survive, I have to have a bit of my addiction every single day.  I often wish that there was a pill I could take to just fill my nutrition requirements and be done with it, so I would never have to eat anything.  I know it's not reasonable, but the idea of having to control myself every day for the rest of my life around the very thing that I am perpetually addicted to is mind-boggling.  And then I think, everyone else can do it.  But just as not everyone who drinks becomes an alcoholic, not everyone who eats becomes a foodaholic.  But just as the alcoholic needs to finish the bottle, or the drug addict needs to snort the rest of the stash, I need to finish the entire bag of chips.  There's no folding it over after a few hand fulls and putting in the cupboard for later.  That is a ridiculous expectation, and I don't know how people do it.

And just like an addict, I hide my stash.  I sneak food into the house.  I carry a large purse and cram it full of chocolate and family size bags of chips.  I make batches of cookie dough at lightening speed while people are in the bathroom.  I keep garbage bags full of empty wrappers under my desk.  I have a 5-pack of cream eggs under my pillow, and a tub of sour cherry gummies tucked against me under the Snuggie, just in case anyone knocks on the door.  I don't need them to hear me shuffling around, hiding my shame.  Why do junk food containers/bags/wrappers have to be so exposingly noisy?

Through all of this, I keep wondering why I can't just stop.  Why me.  (Oh woe is me, alas, egad, boo hoo, blah blah blah.)  I think eating disorders are shrouded in misperceptions, judgement, and a lack of sympathy/empathy/understanding.  In his book, On Writing, Stephen King talks about his alcoholism and the many people who tried to offer advice about it.  He hits the nail on the head when he says (one of my favorite all-time comparisons) ". . . telling an alcoholic to control his drinking is like telling a guy suffering the world's most cataclysmic case of diarrhea to control his shitting."  I can identify with this statement a thousand times over.  And yet I wonder why I am so hard on myself when I fail.  If someone else tells me to just stop bingeing and purging, I find it ludicrous, like how dare they assume to understand and tell me what to do in such simple terms.  Yet when I tell myself to just stop, I feel like I should be able to do it, and hold myself in complete failure when I can't.

Now that I've begun to think of the binge and the purge in different categories, I think it will help to make compartmentalized game plans for attack and recovery.  Every day I realize more and more that I need to break free from my evil boyfriend Purge.  I dare say I'm finally starting to see a light at the end of this tunnel, and the kind of light that will continue to burn.  I've had short-term recovery periods, and I'm done with them. I'm looking for the real thing, and I truly believe that through understanding I will find it.  Get ready Purge, I'm coming to kick your ass.

Identity and that damn cookie dough

I've been in a weird identity flux for the past couple of days.  Not my outward identity, I think/hope that's pretty stable.  (Although some interesting and laugh-worthy career turns lately have really been stretching it.)  The identity I'm talking about in this case is the inward sense of self, if that makes any sense.  It's a little more than just my mood or thoughts, but rather the sense of who I am, how I feel about myself, and I guess that general perception of me that runs in the back of my mind.  Are you lost yet?

The flux (off-kilterness, confusion, disillusionment) is due to my mood vs. my actions.  I have been feeling very positive, hopeful, cheery, and all-around fun.  This usually happens when I'm in a period of recovery -- when I'm not engaging in ED behaviours.  Unfortunately, I am still bingeing and purging.  It's rare for me to be this deep into the cycle and experience any kind of true positive emotions.  Yeah, I can laugh and smile, but it's not a true happy, because I am constantly thinking about the next binge, and pulled into all the accompanying negative self-talk of depression, frustration, defeat, shame, loneliness, you get the point.  But yesterday and today I have noticed myself truly enjoying the life around me, and there's a positive energy in my own mind that has overtones of hope and success.  It's kind of like my brain thinks I'm already in recovery but my body has yet to catch up.  Kind of.  Identity flux.

I'm pretty sure the positivity is coming from this, the act of writing, and all the honest self-analysis that's going into it.  It makes me feel like I'm really on a mission, a path, some sort of forward motion that will lead me to a better place.

Now I'm making it seem like it's all roses and smiles in my head, and that's not quite accurate.  I actually had to make myself sit down to write tonight - I was not in the mood to think too deeply about anything.  I really just wanted to sink into my bed, throw on some tv, and eat the fresh goodies I guiltily and habitually purchased on the way home tonight.  So here I sit, comfy in bed, flanked by a half-consumed large bag of bbq chips and a bag of (1/2 price!) v-day Hershey's Hugs.  (1/2 price post-season treats are THE best.)  I was having a great day, by which I mean I ate healthfully, I didn't have many pestering thoughts about bingeing, and I even got in an exercise session after work.  And then the little thoughts started eeking their way closer and closer to the very front of my brain, digging their little pick-axes in and demanding I pay attention.

"You should eat more brownies.  They're just sitting there, chewy and icing-dusted, waiting to melt on your tongue."

"Stop pretending you don't want a cupcake.  There's an inch of pink frosting on top.  How dare you deny me."

"Just go eat the treats.  You'll have time for a quick purge before the exercise class."

"You've got a few treats left at home, but you should pick up some more after class tonight because it's cheaper than the grocery store at home.  Might as well."

"You know you'll just be angry if you don't get anything, and then you'll have to be super sneaky to make something binge-worthy at home.  Better pick up a few things."

"I'M A TUB OF PRE-MADE COOKIE DOUGH.  I'M CHEAP.  BUY ME AND DEVOUR ME."

These thoughts are perpetual, perpetual, perpetual.  Cycling through, bullying any thought that tries to shut it down, wearing out my mind and my resolve.  Constant.  And seriously, a TUB of cookie dough.  I find it hard to believe they exist for anybody other than food addicts.  Well bravo, Nestle, for satisfying a demanding market niche.  Dicks.  I'm happy to say that I successfully avoided the day-time binge, and therefore the work-place purge.  But I gave in at Walmart and threw a bunch of junk in the cart (which is now working its way into my trunk).  I left the cookie dough on the shelf, out of spite for its very existence.  It taunts me, and I just can't reward that behavior.

I haven't written much yet about the actual binge or the actual purge.  I can't seem to get my brain to form full sentences about the things which I've kept so shamefully locked away.  It's easier to articulate the thoughts leading up to or surrounding the activities than the actual physical acts.  I guess that should be a challenge to myself.  My recent relinquishing of the scale has been successful thus far, meaning that I haven't weighed in two days.  I feel lost without it, like I'm going to gain ten pounds this week, but if it's the one step I can accomplish, I'm holding on to it with vigor.  And here I sit with renewed hope despite my current binge and inevitable purge.  A change is coming, I feel it.

Letting Go

I've spent a lot of money trying to fix myself.  Some on drugs, some on medical treatment, and currently on a behavioral psychologist.  I've been seeing him bi-weekly for a few months, and yesterday I was ready to tell him that I was done, that I was beyond helping, and I didn't want to keep wasting his time and my money.  I need to clarify that it wasn't because I was unsatisfied with his service.  I was just at the point where I really thought I was beyond help, that I would never be able to work through this, and that I might as well accept my life as a continuing bulimic.  

But then we got talking, and he pointed out some very important elements of my plan to recover, and my failure to be able to carry it through.  Basically, my whole plan for the past few years has been based solely on will-power.  I try to convince myself that I should be strong enough not to binge.  And clearly that plan has failed.  I have never really looked at it in such black-and-white, down-to-basics terms.  I feel like I've tried everything, from taking a crazy mood-altering drug that eventually made my hair start to fall out, to attending an in-patient treatment center for a while.  But despite everything I've learned/experienced so far in my journey with bulimia, I have been resting my plan on will-power.  It's a funny thing, that I've been putting my hopes on the one thing that consistently fails me.  And not just me, but many people!  Will-power is a bitch.  How is it that I've been years without realizing that this is a fundamentally flawed plan.

So the next step is going to be really difficult, and I'm not sure I'm ready to let go.  Because rather than tackling the binge, his plan is to focus on the purge.  I need to take away the purge, to eliminate that activity from my routine.  The binge, well, that's just too hard to control.  Even 'normal' eaters struggle with over-eating on occasion, so how can I, a constant over-eater, expect myself to just say no to the binge.  The scary part is letting go of the purge; it has been my safety net through all of this.

I hate the purge.  I dread the purge.  I loathe the purge.  Yet I'm scared to let it go.  The purge is my abusive boyfriend who knocks me around, and then makes me feel like I need it.  My fears about letting go of the purge: I will gain weight.  

Wow, I really thought I would have a big list of fears, but I sit here pondering what else is scaring me and that's really what it boils down to.  I don't want to gain weight, and I feel like the purge is the only thing keeping me from that.  Which is a ludicrous and blatant self lie (thanks ED) because I know, and have evidenced, that when I am in the throes of a heavy binge/purge cycle, I gain weight, no matter what, no matter how often I purge.  (And it's frustrating to no end, believe me.  I can't even get bulimia right - I'm still overweight!  Imagine the shame.  I'm already ashamed of having an eating disorder.  Now compound that with the confusion on someone's face when they look at me and think, yeah right, you're not exactly wasting away.)  Part of me thinks that by taking away the purge, I will also take away the binge.  I only binge when I know I can purge, so can I eventually stop the binge when I eliminate the purge?  This is my hope.

In the next weeks, until my next appointment, I am going to work on coming to terms with this release.  It's going to be really hard.  I'm nervous of what I will have to do to successfully eliminate the purge.  I shudder to think that it might involve someone else, someone having to interrupt me or supervise post-binge bathroom excursions.  I'm nervous that it will make me sneakier and more reclusive, because ED is a powerful and resourceful snake who does not like to have power taken away.  But it's the only way. 

In the meantime, my homework is to take away the scale.  I am a daily weigher, usually once in the morning and once before bed, and sometimes once after work.  In times of weight gain I avoid the scale, so I'm a little hesitant to get rid of it.  I didn't realize (or, probably more accurately, wouldn't admit to myself) that I was so tied to the numbers until very recently.  But it really informs my day.  If I see a good number, I have a good day; I feel better about myself, I'm convinced my clothes fit better, and I'm more likely to eat well.  If I see a number I don't like, I have a bad day; often I'll just get back in bed.  So I guess I'm a little obsessed with the numbers.  For now the scale is shoved in a bathroom closet, and I am confident I can leave it there.  At least for a couple of weeks.