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I'm Not Overweight, I'm Undertall

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Some time ago I calculated my BMI index and figured out the extra weight that I'm carrying with me. Then I figured out how that weight measures out in terms of a person. Currently, I'm a 5'4" woman carrying an average 6'4" man on top of my body. To be sized appropriately at this weight, I'd have to be over 8 feet tall.

My friend Jeff (pictured below) makes a PERFECT foil for this because he's EXACTLY an average-sized 6'4" man. It's disheartening and humiliating to admit this in public.

I learned a couple of weeks ago that I now weigh 2 pounds more than I did when I went in for rehab 2 years ago, so I'm at my max weight this minute. BUT - today is the new day, Jan (my therapist) is my company clerk and Paula (my nutritionist) is my aide-de-camp. I also have Kori (my group therapist), my group, and my blogits as cheerleaders.

My goal is to make myself more conscious of every choice that I make. If, for instance, I'm buying lunch, I will say out loud to myself, "I am choosing the chicken salad because it's better for me and fits my program, even though I really want the artichoke casserole." Or, conversely, "I have had a bad day and I want to binge on McDonald's burgers and fries." I have found that speaking my choices out loud - positive or negative - makes me more aware of that particular moment. For now, that's part of the plan.

Also, I need to figure out some rewards for good behavior. If you have any suggestions, please send them along. Paula will be sending me a list of rewards that folks have given themselves when she finds it. I'll post it here for all of us!

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Living Large

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Today I read a Lenten devotion at Writings from the Wilderness that struck home for me in a BIG LEAGUE way. It should be clear to you all that I possess a highly addictive personality, which explains part of my eating disorder. I am very, very thankful to God that I have never been offered any kind of drugs and that I don't really like the taste of alcohol because I know what my path would have been, otherwise.

Even without drugs or alcohol, I know that the god of my life is pleasure. I have no idea how long it has been thus, but it's been for many years. I procrastinate on tasks I don't want to do in that "ostrich" sort of way - if I don't see it, it ain't there and I don't gotta deal with it. Stupid, yes; short-sighted, certainly, but I don't believe I'm the only one with my head in the sand.

Where has this pursuit of pleasure led me? To a sedentary life in front of a TV or computer; a life in which I do not feel fulfilled, with no husband or children (the deepest desires of my heart), a job that's just a paycheck and a house that's always messy because I can't be bothered to get up off my rump and do anything about it. And did I mention that as of Wednesday I weigh more than I ever have at any other point in my life?

I struggle on a daily basis to change my life. I have discovered a technique that is becoming an invaluable tool in my box. Whatever decision I need to make - what I'm having for lunch, whether I should wear my seatbelt, anything - as I'm making that choice, I speak my choice out loud.

Example One: "I'm going to have chicken salad for lunch today because it fits my food plan and I am NOT going to have the cheesy artichoke casserole, even though that's what I would prefer."

In this case, it is easier for me to stick to the choice because I have spoken it out loud which reinforces it for me. I try to do this in advance (and out of the hearing of those who would call the mental hospital).

Example Two: "I am choosing not to wear my seatbelt today because I don't feel like it. Besides, I am only going three miles to work and it's highly unlikely that I will have an accident on the way."

Put that way, it sounds rather absurd, doesn't it? Especially considering that I have HAD an accident on the way to work.... Putting it in this kind of language makes it easier for me to make the choice to do the right thing.

No, this is not an easy method. First, I have to be aware that I'm making a decision at the moment, second, I am a weak human being and I still face the temptations to go against my better judgment, but speaking and hearing it out loud means that I cannot pretend any longer that I'm not making a decision. I cannot stick my head back in the sand.

Even though recognizing the decision points is tough in the beginning, I know that with practice I will be able to spot them more readily and the more I practice good choices, the easier it will be to make one the next time.

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Living Recovery

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I went to my group therapy yesterday, where I had a kind of weird time. I am suddenly in a new place.

Our first assignment right out of the gate last night was to come up with a title for whatever chapter of our lives we're in. Not surprisingly, perhaps, I titled mine, "Living Recovery." Once we came up with a title or a picture to describe it, we were to write for a time about where we are right now. Here's what I shared.

Standing strong. Facing the headwinds. I feel the force of the gale blowing in my face. It's refreshing, but I could so easily be knocked of balance if I'm not vigilant - if I don't keep taking steps forward.

I have so recently climbed to my feet after being keeled over by the buffeting winds. I do not want - will not allow myself - to be pushed back to that filthy and unforgiving ground.

I resolve to stand firm - my belt of Truth buckled around my waist, the shield of faith deflecting the blows of my enemies. The helmet of salvation covering my vulnerable head and mind. My feet don't want to move forward, yet, but I'm doing it anyway. They cannot remain rooted.

I have tools - blog, friends, therapy, medicine, and I have my God, my gracious and loving Savior Who watches over me and protects me from all evil. I know where I am blessed. This is my last stand.

I realized as I wrote it what that last sentence means. God has clearly told me that I will be free of this disease by the end of the year. It's very frightening to say this in print because of the fact that it makes it real. It makes me have to do something about it.

But I have to say it because it's real already. God is ready to move me. Oy.....

I have been undergoing a spiritual siege from satan. He has done so much evil against me lately that it makes me rejoice because it means that somewhere, somehow, I'm doing something right. You don't fight an enemy who isn't threatening you - you reserve your strength for the ones who will do the most damage to you.

Let me just disclaim here - I am in no way suggesting that I can conquer satan in my life. By no means! I am the weakest of the weak - but God, my protector is invincible. Actually, He's already defeated satan, so I can live victoriously in Him.

I have seen Eddie desperate to come out kickin' on my behalf. Bless my girl. She's in a deathly rage on my behalf for the injustice she sees, but her instincts are not so good anymore. I've been working to handle everything that's been thrown at me in the most Godly manner. I have fallen short of that, which just proves to me again that I need a Savior.

But, since I have restrained Eddie's sarcasm and rage, she's taking it out on me. I haven't eaten properly or right amounts in days. Those boots HURT when they come in contact with my gluteus. I'm suspicious that she's attached a pair of sharp cleats just to heighten the impact.

She's fighting mad, and frustrated and wounded. This poor, aching girl is so much my heart, and I grieve for what we have both endured. But I refer you to my Gloria Gaynor post. I - we - will survive. We must. Not to survive this is death, and I'm not ready to die.

This is my final stand.

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Fed Up!

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What is wrong with me?! Last night I was fuller than I have been in over two years. I am really unhappy with myself, but all I could think about at the time was MORE food. This is reminding me all over that this is a sickness. My body was stuffed, but I wanted POPCORN This is so not normal! I'm sick and tired of having abnormal eating habits - of obsessing over a steak or compulsively eating whatever's in front of me just because it's in front of me!

I had a late lunch from Taco Smell yesterday. It was too much food, but I couldn't stop myself because it sounded so good. Plus two drinks (TWO!) from Sonic: one large cherry limeade (extra lime) and one strawberry cream slush (ice cream included, of course). I ate these around 2-3 in the afternoon, knowing that at 6:00 I was going to dinner and a movie with a bunch of girlfriends.

Dinner rolls around and there we are at the Longhorn Steak House. I ordered their basic fillet with a small lobster tail, baked potato and asparagus - no salad and only one piece of bread. OK. Not a problem, right? It clearly fit into my eating plan. So - what's the problem, you ask? I WAS STILL FULL FROM LUNCH! I couldn't believe that I was eating a meal when I was full. When we were done I felt like I was absolutely overbalanced because of my overfull stomach. It disgusts me that I have no control over this part of my life. I feel like the world looks at me and KNOWS that I have just given in to this damned and bloody disease.

Of course, none of my friends knew I was feeling like this. Like all ED victims, I'm good at hiding what's going on. I comforted myself with the thought that I wasn't going to even want to have popcorn at the theater. I would simply have something to drink - maybe even just water. I was proud of making that decision in advance and felt so confident about it.

We get to the theater. (By the way, if you have the opportunity to see "Mad Money," I highly recommend it!) I pick up the preordered tickets from the kiosk, and lo and behold, what do I find? A coupon for a free small popcorn. Well, CRAP. Suddenly, stuffed to the proverbial gills, all I can think of is, "YAY!! Free popcorn!!" My next thought is, "What the hell is WRONG with me?!" Here I am in actual physical pain and discomfort from rampant overeating and all I can do is be excited at the prospect of free popcorn. Suddenly I am so disgusted with myself I want to sit down and sob right there. At that moment I called upon every reserve of strength that God had in store for me and walked past the rear concession stand (of course we had to pass it to get to our theater) without even stopping for my drink.

I detoured into the bathroom where I stood in the stall for a moment, just catching up with myself. I couldn't believe - couldn't believe - that I had been contemplating that stupid popcorn simply because it was free. For the first time in a very long time I began to come to grips with the "sickness" part of this disorder.

I always felt it was weak of me to say that I am sick - that I was somehow absolving myself of responsibility for my physical state, making excuses for myself, playing perpetual victim. After several years of therapy, I am beginning to understand the very basic tenet that this is not true. I am not absolving myself of any wrongdoing. I am not using this disease to make excuses for continuing these behaviors. I am NOT playing the victim.

What I am doing is seeking a way to break a cycle of destruction and pain. It cannot happen overnight, but it will happen. I believe this because I believe in a God Who stands behind me and lifts me up.

"No temptation has seized you except what is common to man. And God is faithful; he will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear. But when you are tempted, he will also provide a way out so that you can stand up under it." --1 Cor 10:13

This I believe.

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Life without Ed

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Ed doesn't live in my house any more. His bags are packed and sitting on the front porch. I've had a team of security experts evaluate my home for safety, change the existing locks, add deadbolts, glass breakers, alarms and cameras. My home is better protected than Fort Knox! Plus, the contents are much more valuable.

The biggest problem, I suppose, is that I keep listening when Ed talks. He has such a big mouth. He tells me whatever he needs to say to get me to do what he wants. Ed is really nothing more than a manipulative, self-centered abuser and I'm thrilled that he's out of my house.

Sometimes he hollers so loudly and smacks the door so hard I have to shove couches and other heavy furniture in front of the door to keep him out. Sometimes he whispers apologetic sweet talk in at the window. And sometimes I'm so lonely I convince myself that I just don't care that he's going to be abusive - I rationalize it by saying, "Well, at least he's there!"

Except that nothing changes the fact that he will be abusive and manipulative every single time. There are no exceptions with Ed. The eating disorder tells me that I can eat whatever I want just like the skinny chick next to me. He tells me that I will be able to stop this time, regardless of the fact that I have not been able to stop the last 4,387 times I have tried this. He tells me I am weak when I have to protect myself; yet in the same breath he tells me I'm strong enough to eat only one potato chip.

Do you see the paradox here? He tells me what he thinks will make me do what he wants me to do. And what he wants me to do is eat. Uncontrollably.

And he lies. Oh, how he lies. He tells me all the time how ugly I am; how nobody really likes me - they merely tolerate me out of politeness; how stupid or weak or selfish or useless I am. He points out every shortcoming and every failure or perceived failure. The perfectionist in me (which usually goes right along with the eating disorder) just sits back and nods her head. What a traitor! It's so difficult to refute these evil statements no matter how wrong they are, but it's vitally important to learn to do that, one moment at a time.

The answers are not simple. There are as many options for recovery as there are eating disordered individuals out there, both men and women. I journal when I feel the need to eat outside of my prescribed normalized meal plan. Or I find an activity I can do. Granted, this can feed the obsessive-compulsive fetish, but I prefer that to the alternative.

One of the most important activities in which I can engage is connecting with other people, most particularly my support system. I can pick up the phone when I'm feeling food-related anxiety or an urge to binge, go hang out with my friends wherever they may be or even pick up a pen and write a letter. Anything to stay in contact with the people who love me. This is most usually linked to the craving that I'm experiencing, so it's a healthy outlet for me to meet my needs.

And I can take my message to the world - that's you, my friend. Please learn something from me and don't follow in my footsteps. Besides, they're not my footprints right now because Jesus is carrying me through this recovery process.

I wish you all God's blessings in your recovery.