Comfort of Strangers

I hauled myself to the local WLS support group today. I haven't gone in ages...I'm always busy on Saturday mornings. But I felt like it was the least I should do for my sorry excuse of a shrinking ass.

Today's topic: who do you turn to for support. Um...anonymous people (voyeurs, actually) on the internet who reach out to lost souls such as myself. Seriously, though. I so have a support network. I just feel like I'm in this by myself right now.

I wanted to say something in the group, but I felt like I was going to vomit if I did. Or choke. Or cry. So I just sat there, kind of numb. Understanding that everyone in that room was just like me, but not really.

I know there are people that go to group that read this. I know that if I told any one of them that I'm on the edge, they'd pony up for me. I'm just not able to do that. Maybe it's that I'm not ready to take the help. Maybe it's that I'm too proud...because perfect girls don't go screwing up perfect opportunities to have a perfect life.

I also don't know what kind of help it is that I want. I don't want to talk about the specifics. I don't want empathy. I don't want to ramble. I kind of just want people to let me figure this out. Just send me the vibe telling me you'd do anything to help...but don't ask me what you can do. Because I honestly don't know. And when I can't tell you, then I feel like a dope.

So group probably helped. I actually came home and did something other than curl up in a ball on the couch. The office is nearly painted. I ran a couple of errands. I took a reasonable hour-long nap. Though I haven't eaten a "meal" today...only snacks of not so good things. More than I wanted to. Every bite a chomp of guilt stuck in my throat.

Will I go back next month? I don't know. I probably should go to my surgeon's group too. But I feel so conspicuous wherever I go...and that crowd, probably even moreso.

Tonight. A visit from my brother. I've been thinking about a glass of wine all day. Early to bed. Then it all starts again tomorrow. Deep breath.

This is how I am screwed up

For breakfast, I drank a protein shake and a latte. For lunch I had a protein shake. Dinner I had a can of soup. And then I felt like I ate too much for the day and should throw up.

But three days ago, I probably had twice the calories I ate all day today...in one sitting...multiplied by three or four.

It's one friggin' extreme to another.

Yeah, I get that it's not right. Some thing is screwed in my head. I have no control. I love me some control! Maybe control is the issue. Once I don't have it, I feel like I'll never get it again and I panic. And that leads to spiraling even more out of control. And that is screwed up, isn't it?

Clarity

I have moments when the truth of my life flashes bright and spheres of electric blue and green throb against the pitch black of here and now. It's dizzying. My first reaction is to shut my eyes to dim the blaze, conjure up the haze that is so comfortable.

I wonder how much more bravery I need to muster before I can force my eyes wide open, knowing what's coming, and stare back, unblinking.

Returned. To Sender.

I'm back from two days of business meetings. They went well. It's amazing what you can accomplish when you actually get to sit in the room with the people you work with.

I had great intentions for my eating plan. That pretty much was shot to hell before I even got on the plane.

Then there are those damn Midwest Airlines cookies. A year ago I easily said no. And was ok. Not now. If I had said no, I would have thought about them non-stop for the rest of the flight and then would have been pissy because I couldn't have them.

So instead, I did say yes, ate them euphorically, felt guilty for eating them which then led to eating a bag of cookies from a vending machine to make me feel better which just made it worse so then I ate....

You get the picture.

Now if *I* could just get it.

Conquering IKEA

We headed south yesterday to Schaumburg, IL, and a shopping trip at IKEA. We're in process of remodelling the office and needed new furniture and storage. We bought. Not everything we wanted, but enough to get started.

We also stopped for lunch at Sweet Tomatoes, an awesome salad bar buffet. I think I drove the busboy crazy because I went through a gazillion dishes trying as much as I could. I never took more than a bite a or two, but it resulted in so many plates. Oh well.

I leave in just a couple of hours again. This time for a few days in NY for work. I won't be posting before Tuesday night. Be good.

An adventure...

I'm off on a surprise adventure with Rose today. She doesn't know where we're going...but I do!

I'm taking along the new camera. Look for video later.

Is it binging...

...when you eat two packages of Oh Yeah! Protein Wafers (chocolate chocolate) in 10 minutes? Should I be worried?

Um, yup.

(And there was a package of O'COCOAs, a snack pack of peanuts...plus another package of O'COCOAs and and a mini granola bar before lunch.)

Yesterday was a relatively good day for me. Even when I was working from home. Even when I went out to dinner last night.

Today, not so much.

Pimp my blog

I want a new blog template, but have had no luck finding a free template that I like. So...if anyone wants to design one for me, write to me. We'll talk. I'm all about mutually agreeable terms.

#1 Cookbook in the Country!

The Taste of Home Baking Book debuted in stores nationwide on Sept. 11. This week, it ranks #1 on the Nielsen Bookscan Cookbook list!

Check it out at Amazon.com or look for it in your local stores, such as Wal-Mart, Target, Sam's Club, Costco, Barnes & Noble or Borders.

Buy many copies. Give them as gifts. Tell all your friends.

I'm so proud of the hard work my team put into this project. Jan Briggs is a phenomenal editor who had a great vision for this book. Edwin Robles...a kick-ass art director. And then our layout designers, Cathy Fletcher and Kathy Crawford, ROCK when it comes to nailing down every little detail. I wish I could take credit for the book. But these folks deserve it all!

Mind Matters and Thievery

I stole this from another blog I read, which I'm not linking to because although anorexia and compulsive eating and probably one in the same, that blog doesn't need to see that wannabe former fatties are using their shit to get skinnier. And those people that read their blog don't need to be infected by my head games.

So here goes:

Categories of eating disorder recovery as presented by someone else's therapist and based on existing (somewhere) literature:

1. Those who quit/refuse treatment and are actively disordered to the point of debilitation.

2. Those who recovery completely, not to say 100%, but those who go weeks at a time without thinking of their eating disorder, go to the beach and don’t really think about their bodies, etc. The people that get here get here because they have a strong support network, and these are the people that do challenge themselves, the people that put on the bikini, that go to the dinner party, that open themselves up for these potential failures.

3. Those who are still somewhere between, either because they’re transitioning from one spot to the other (be it towards recovery, or towards something worse), or they’ve sort of settled in a ‘functional’ level of disordered where they can go day to day and do their jobs and interact with people but they’re still ‘disordered eaters,’ and still, to a large degree, consumed by thoughts of food and body.

Now, my thoughts on this...

When I read the post, I wondered which category I call into. Not 1. Probably more like a 3 and sometimes maybe (fingers crossed) a 2. I think I'm definitely in that functional level of disordered, largely consumed by thoughts of food and body.

I would like to be in that group 2...aware, on guard, not consumed (or consuming)...willing to take a risk without fear of failure or setback.

Another snippet of theft from the anonymous blog:

Those days when you feel really, really hopeless, remember that the feeling of ‘hopelessness’ isn’t a ‘predictor.’ It isn’t a place of intellectual realization. It’s not as if you just opened a rejection letter from the universe and you’re holding in your hand evidence that the universe is telling you to go screw. Turns out, whereas fat isn’t a feeling, hopelessness is a feeling, and only a feeling, It’s a feeling that ‘feels’ like an intellectual predictor that things will never ever get better, that things will get worse, that you deserve this, that it’s all shit, but hey, it’s a feeling, it’s a mood, it’s not an evidence-based conclusion.

Maybe I could get that as a tattoo on my stomach. Good shit, huh?

I can hardly stand myself

Sometimes I get so sick of thinking and writing about food and eating, I can hardly imagine why anyone would want to stop in and see what I have to say. So there you have it.

I have had a weekend of reckless abandon. Since I was off yesterday (while new internet and cable services were installed) I continued my gluttony. At least now post-RNY I can eat only half a ciabatta(SP?) roll instead of 3 whole ones. I found a new crack(er) that Inever should have bought. Three-quarters of the bag later I realize
this.

I had dropped a few pounds last week during my latest protein fast. I know a few came back on. It's all a scale trick. Smoke and mirrors, you know. So I'm going to try not to look again this week. We'll see.

Anatomy lesson

When Tracilynn Salablahblahblah saw my stomach roll into itself (picture squeezing the skin together from the left and the right), she called me ASS BELLY. How true, how true!

Friend or Foe?

I'm still here. Thanks for the emails and the phone calls.

Yesterday's eating was extremely controlled. I also cut back on caffeine. No soda (which I started drinking again on a very limited basis). My work-out was ok. I didn't drink.

I did force myself to not go home until later in the evenin,g and then I went to bed very early, just to avoid food/drink temptations.

I'm sure I've also now reached that point where the euphoria of weight loss surgery and its results has worn off. Back to reality.

I don't necessarily believe this rigid control is any better than reckless abandon. Both have the focus on food and its place in my life. I knew that I would always have to deal with food. I just don't want to be a serial dieter like I was before surgery. I want food to co-exist peacefully with me and be something I need for nutrition, not a friend or an enemy.

Or not.

Sigh. IJIAHC week isn't really doing the trick, but I do appreciate all the adoration. Keep it coming. Maybe it will sink in.

I feel really lost right now. Something's not right. I run through the list of things I could be feeling (because expressing emotion other than happy, sad or angry, does not come easily to me.) Nothing rings true. I feel deeply unsettled.

Like the friggin' lunges I had to do last night. Backward lunges with the forward foot on a 2-inch foam pad. No assistance. The third set really pissed me off. I couldn't do it. I wobbled, I touched the ground, I said fuck out loud. All the time the 12-year-old trainer tells me I'm doing a good job. Great job. Good job. Whatever. Everyone I tried made me feel like I was failing more. It wasn't like I got to the last one and conquered it. I just shook hard, wobbled more. I couldn't count on my front foot to be steady and I couldn't rely on my back foot to support my weight. I had no flippin' control and THAT is what pissed me off. Or maybe I wasn't pissed as much as I was disappointed in myself? I don't know.

I think I should pick up one of the dozen self-help books I got at BEA in the spring. Heal my soul. Feed my soul. Save my soul. Soul what? Maybe what I need I'll find in a book...since it doesn't seem like it's at all inside of me.

So. I'm going to take some sleeping pills and head off to bed. If I stay up, I'm likely to eat, drink or step on a scale...none of which has much benefit to me at this point. Maybe a good night's sleep is what's in order.

Queen of IJIAHC Week

By request, I present to you the fabulous Hot Chick Jen, celebrated by one and all around the world. (Or at least by the guys in Saudi Arabia who keep googling for "hot fat".) Enjoy...

Chew on this.

I just finished lunch. About 10 bites sooner than I needed to. Exactly one bite into feeling like "huh, I'm getting sick of eating."

For some, that's just every day normalness. For me, it's not. My usual (as of late) is to eat least 3 bites beyond what physically satisfies. That's what happens when your hunger is in your heart and not your stomach. I'll never be satiated eating that way. I'll just keep puking.

But today. I just stopped. I gave away the extra spinach and put the leftover tuna/feta mix back in the fridge. Then I popped a stick of gum in my mouth and thought about it all.

How did I get away from this being present in my body while I eat? When did I stop listening to my stomach? What has me so preoccupied?

I'm only two years out from weight loss surgery. I'll probably live another 30 to 40 years. I don't want to go through this learn, forget, relearn process again and again. When will I get it? How can I get it right? WILL I get it right?

Pondering not pounding

I'm going to try not to beat up on myself for a while. It's not helping the situation. It's not making me feel better about myself. And I think it's really a sign of a larger issue that I need to deal with, big girl that I am.

As I've been teetering on the brink of flipping out, I've also been surfing lots of blogs in search of inspiration, resonance, salvation. I found one that has really struck a chord with me. Sorry, but I'm not linking to it. There's lots of turmoil going on over in her world and I'd hate to be the one to open the door to more. Anyway.

She wrote the following:

I also think that being reverent toward your own body in the moment,
wherever you are on whatever bodily journey you’re on, is a big part of that, because without that reverence, self-care of all sorts tends to go out the window. In a conversation with my partner recently, I said that my primary criteria for doing anything about my body, in any way (medical, eating, exercise, weight-related stuff, whatever) are basically these:

1) does it feel good?

2) does it give me something I need to be a stronger healthier person in
the large picture as well as the small one?

3) does it give me something I need to thrive?

I'm envious of this woman for realizing this BEFORE she begins a conscious effort to unleash change. I wish I had been at a point in my life where I knew I needed guidelines. Ones I set and embraced for myself. Not just ones placed on me by nutritionists, surgeons and a bariatric program.

She also wrote:

I’m planning to have to deal with the intersection of my weight and body and health, in one way or another, for the rest of my life.

I was ready to deal with my weight and my body and my health for the rest of my life...but not necessarily with all of those at the same time or in relationship to each other. What the hell did I expect?

Sorry if I start to wax philosophical. There's just a lot on my mind. I need a place to go with it.

Because it's almost 2 a.m.

I can say...
I really dislike Carrie Underwood.
I wish I could quit my day job.
I secretly wish I could sleep with Sean Connery.
I want to eat a whole box of Kraft Mac n Cheese with extra butter, salt and pepper.
I'd rather be sleeping, but not.
I sometimes want to slice off my skin. Really.
I was a really fucked up adolescent.
I don't know if I could ever show my nekkid boobs in public. Even when they get fixed.
I took pictures of my "tube socks" for Tel...and some day they'll show up in her mailbox.
I'd rather drink wine than beer.
I like to cry.
I hate Windows Vista. Shitty.
I'm drinking wine by myself.
I cry at parades, but I kind of like to.
I wish I could do this ONE thing that I know I shouldn't do, but it would change my life if I could. And then I might be happy(er). But I would be a C*NT of the highest degree. And go to hell. If there is such a thing.
I have regrets that I can't share with anyone.
I sometimes wish I had a penis.
I want another tattoo...even though the last one looks like FrankenKitty.
I like to wallow in sadness.
I have the hiccups RIGHT NOW. And they hurt.
I can vomit without making noise.
I don't really know that there's a god. And most days I don't care.
I have a secret.
I don't know my ass from my elbow. Again...most days.
I forgive. But I never forget.
I like cold ravioli from a can.
I used to cut myself.
I never.
I hate heavy metal music.
I am lost. And I don't have a GPS.
I wish I could meet Dixie Carter.
I have had my poetry published.
I don't keep a checkbook registry.
I STILL have the hiccups.
I ran out of wine.
I probably should go to bed.
I think I'm a failure.
I am afraid.
I like to watch Jack Van Impe.
I won't ever tell my secret. In this blog.
I I I.

I survived

What a day. I survived the afternoon binge and dump.

Several hours later, my head is clearer and my resolve is stronger. Most frightening about the day was how close I felt to becoming the person I used to be. How easy it was to eat mindlessly, with abandon, despite knowing full well the ramifications.

I'm sure I'll have more days like this. But unlike in the past, the moments do subside. The binge isn't a free pass to my personal all-you-can-eat buffet. It's more like a case of food poisoning...the best deterrant (maybe?) against eating.

As today has come back into focus, one other thing has also become clear. I am at a point where I probably won't move forward until I get to the heart of my issues. Shit. I don't even know what they all are.

I think I need to head back into therapy. A year and half ago I did it in reaction to a situation. Now I need to do it to avoid a situation. A life like the one I used to live. I simply can't go back. I just can't.

I confess

In one 15-minute period:

6 chocolate chip/cranberry cookies
2 brownies
3 handfuls of chips

And that's just the stuff I have absolutely no reason whatsoever to even consider eating. It's the stuff I ate AFTER I got done puking up all the other marginal stuff I jammed into my face under the pretense of nourishment. Bullshit.

I just felt like emotional crap so I let myself try to eat it away. Now I have to work twice as hard to shut the floodgates before I need to request emergency disaster funding from the government.

Need to go now. Gotta dump. I feel the sweats coming on. When I get back, i'll finish kicking myself in the ass so no one else has to.

The same. But different. But exactly the same.

I often wonder what I look like to other people. How they perceive me. My physical and emotional changes. My struggle with me and those changes.

I asked a bunch of friends to complete this on-line quiz about me. Unscientific. Filtered.

I got an email from a work aquaintance who wrote: I honestly see you as being this "cool chick" at work. You're fun, trendy and always look cute, cool and confident. I know I started working at XXXXXX about the time of your surgery, and while I vaguely remember "the other you", it's weird to think about you as that person. So I know we've only barely gotten to know one another while I've been at XXXXXX, but I feel so happy and proud of you. I know that sounds silly, but I am. I look forward to following your blog and honestly getting to know you better. That totally made my day. Surprised and pleased me. Intrigued me.

My partner tells me she's proud of me and what I've achieved. She tells me I'm hot. I know she believes it and sees it in me. My mom tells me, too, that she's proud of me. She celebrates this change.

But I've never, until this morning, thought about how my struggles with eating, weight and self-acceptance--the struggle part, not the triumph part--have really affected people around me. What got me thinking was when I stumbled across this blog written by a man whose wife is fighting an eating disorder.

Did I cause angst with my binging, gorging, stuffing, hiding, denying, obsession? Were people struggling alongside me and I didn't know it? Was I so self-absorbed that I only thought I was alone...or was I? (I know for a fact that I wasn't really all alone. Point in case: my friend WW. But with her own issues, and recollections of the times that we just couldn't "be together" emotionally or physically because of our separate eating disorders, I also know that I was alone.)

Did anyone--other than WW--see that what I was dealing with...am dealing with...is an eating disorder? And how did that make them feel?

I don't know if I'm ready to ask that question of my friends and family and then be strong enough to hear the answer. Because if my eating affected them negatively, then it would be impossible for me to deny that I am/was/may-always-be disordered in my eating and thinking. And if it didn't phase them...would that mean that I'm totally superficial and self-absorbed and simply looking for an excuse for why I was a lazy, flat slob for 38 years of my life?

I don't know which would be worse. I need validation. I don't much find it within myself and I often hunger for it from other people. What would be preferable? "You fucked up my life with your screwy-assed eating and self-destructive behavior"..."Hey, I hardly noticed your screwy-assed eating and self-destructive behavaior."

After reading that blog, I also can't help but wonder how much I'm like an anorexic person or morbidly obese person. A binger, bulimic. I just happen to be in what a lot of people consider a normal body for an American woman. Maybe we're all trapped.

Having had RNY weight loss surgery, acted on the obesity, stuck to a diet (or tried to) for a couple years, it seems like I've been healing. Or have I? Am I simply following the motions? Have I achieved real, permanent, INTERNAL change? And how the hell will I ever know? Will I ever stop asking these questions? Stop writing this blog?

Am I trying to feed my ego when I should be feeding my soul...and in the process over-feeding or under-feeding a body ravaged by the cross-fire of the two? And does anyone but me really give a shit about this drama I call and I claim for my life?

Moderation

I am a person of extremes. Read through the archives and you'll quickly see that. Gray areas in my life freak me out, so I think I push hard in any direction just so I'm not in the middle.

Point in case: I eat too much and get super fat. I have a radical surgery to completely stop my ability to consume voraciously. I lose huge amounts of weight. In just two years.

It can be a good thing, this need to be black or white. It does move me to action. I make decisions quickly. But I think it could cause me problems, too. Excess is almost second nature to me. That's scary.

Where's all this coming from? My horoscope for today, courtesy of the NY Post:

September 5, 2007 -- Moderation is a must today, especially if you are one of those Cancerians who find it hard to stop when they find something they like, no matter how potentially harmful it may be. If a family member counsels caution it's not because they're a killjoy, it's because they just don't want to see you get hurt.

It's like Sally Brompton wrote that just for me. Maybe I do need more moderation in my life. Not just today. Every day. And not just with food. People, work. Money, wine. Expectations. I need to think on this.

Visitor 25,000

Bells and whistles for visitor #25,000 who popped on Sunday night at 11:14 CST from San Luis Obispo, California. Of course, it would have been nice if you had stayed as long as #24,999 or #25,001.

Thanks to everyone who takes a second to read on any sort of regular basis. I appreciate the replies and emails. (Ok, most of them.)

First Plastic Surgery Consult

I did it. On Thursday. I stripped naked and posed my flabby skin for a plastic surgeon. I felt really detached from the whole point and click episode, maybe because my goal is to get rid of the parts I think ugly, not convince someone that I'm thinner than I really am.

Lessons learned:

1.) I'm looking at multiple procedures, anyway you slice and dice it.

2.) Plastic surgeons are egotistical and don't want to talk about their infallibility. (I know, broad statement. So tell me why I shouldn't make it.)

3.) Just because everyone else likes a surgeon, doesn't mean I will.

I'm looking to have my apron skin removed, the wads of skin taken off from the sides of my chest area, my breasts reconstructed (not filled) and my upper arms trimmed. In that order of importance to me.

I've taken way too good of care of my skin breakdowns and rashes. So much so that I've never had to see a doctor for a specific occurrence...and I hope that doesn't work against me when it comes to insurance approval. I'm sure it will.

I didn't really feel 100% comfortable with this first doctor. I'm planning on seeing other before making a final decision. I need to be confident that the surgeon I see is going to be as proactive in treating any follow-up issues as he or she is in getting me under the knife. The infections, wound breakdown, necrosis...that's what scares me the most. I need to be completely certain that the surgeon I have is committed to aftercare perfection. Proactive. Not willing to push me off to a PCP.

I'm glad I had this first appointment. Time to get out the list of other surgeons in the area. And start taking pictures of the pannus. Ugh.