The Hills Are Alive with the Smell of Potatoes

My hometown's claim to fame is its potato chip factory. These chips are distributed through the Mid-Atlantic region of the United States and are quite popular. On rainy, foggy days like today, when you walk outside the entire town is greeted to the aroma of frying potatoes. I suppose it's the fog that holds down the emissions from the plant on the east end of town, but I can tell you I live on the very western end of town and our house is surrounded by this smell. All I have to say is, it smells a lot better than the other frequent smell our town is subjected to: the liquid manure the nearby farmers spread on their fields!

Fortunately for me, potato chips have never been one of my trigger foods or even on the top 10 of my favorite snack foods. Not so for my husband: his father worked for the above-mentioned potato chip company for more than 40 years and brought home an endless, free supply of their chips and other salty snack foods. Currently Hubby's favorite treat is their sourdough pretzels, which again is not one of my favorites -- they're too hard for my liking and scratch the inside of my mouth. I am definitely more of a sweets person, although I do like the occasional salty snack like nuts.

I haven't mentioned my husband's weight loss efforts here in the blog for some time. In case you're new to this blog or have forgotten, he went on the weight loss drug Meridia back in May. He has done phenomenally on this medicine -- so far he has lost somewhere around 40 pounds. It has reduced his appetite and helped him drastically cut his snacking and overeating.

Since he's been on this medicine I've been rather jealous, wanting my own magic pill to make the urgency and compulsion to overeat go away. I suppose I could have gone to my own doctor and asked to be put on it, but then I fell into my summer of anxiety and depression and wound up on Lexapro, which seemed to make the compulsive eating even worse.

But now that's changed. This Wellbutrin is working so much better for me. Granted, I do find myself more prone to tears -- when I'm laughing, when I'm hurt, even when some sentimental song comes on -- and I have discovered this is a common side effect. But this actually seems good after the depressing emptiness I was experiencing. I'm also realizing how important it is for me to feel my emotions and not suppress them, whether I do it myself or with medication: the more I feel, the less I turn to food.

Let's face it, though: the biggest change has been with my appetite and my compulsions to overeat. I still get hungry, but it seems like I'm finally just feeling my physical hunger instead of all the cravings and mental urges to eat. For example, yesterday I worked on our kitchen floor for almost six hours straight: normally I would have to stop at least once to eat something, but yesterday I was fine. My snacking has greatly reduced, and when I do, I find myself truly satisfied with so much less. Instead of being haunted by binge foods calling my name, I actually kind of forget they're there!

I'm not saying all of my cravings are gone, but I think they're becoming more intuitive instead of driven by compulsive reasons. Last night as I was finishing up the floor Hubby called me on the phone and asked me what I wanted for supper. I admitted I was really craving a burger, and he brought me my favorite one (not from a fast food restaurant, but a nice sit-down place with quality food) and I was satisfied eating half of it. Afterwards I saw the snack foods sitting where we keep all of them, and while the old habit would have been to dive in to them whether I was full or not, I wasn't interested at all.

As hard as I was trying to eat intuitively the last six months, doing my best to work on the environmental and psychological aspects of it, I realize now that there were neurobiological issues there that could not be overcome without medication. I wanted so badly to master IE "on my own" (hence my reluctance to ask for Meridia), but I realize now that I was fighting a losing battle.

This doesn't mean I'm going to rely on this "magic pill" to solve all my problems. I still need to work on expressing and managing my emotions; learning to become more self-assertive; work on avoiding the almost OCD-like tendency of falling into diet mentality (let's face it, my compulsive need to weigh myself several times a day is not much different than a person who constantly washes their hands); and getting more in touch and respecting my body.

It feels so great to share good news on this blog again. I actually feel eager to write now, which is a major sign of my recovery. Thank goodness! And thanks to all of you who have hung in there and supported me in these topsy-turvy months.

Eruption

Once again I've been staying away from the computer. The good news is I haven't been binge eating -- the Wellbutrin is doing a fantastic job of quelling my urges to compulsively overeat. For example, last night I went to the store during Mabel's gymnastics class, and even though it was an incredibly emotionally stressful day and I broke down and cried twice, I didn't buy one single binge food. Instead I bought strawberries, oranges, bananas, a high-fiber wheatberry bread and seltzer water. Granted, before I walked into the store I had eaten a handful of mini candy bars (oh the joys of Halloween candy), but this was extremely minimal in comparison to my eating in the last few months. And I still can't get over the fact that I had absolutely no desire to refill my binge food cache. There was no feeling of panic of running out of snacks, no feelings of deprivation -- only a desire to get some more healthy foods back into my body again.

I picked the picture above of an active volcano to illustrate how I'm feeling right now. I'm in the middle of some stormy situations to be sure. While I have erupted and the lava is flowing steadily, it's better than staying dormant and withdrawing emotionally, and I haven't completely exploded like Mount St. Helens into a huge cloud of dirt and firey ash with only a crater left behind. In fact, even though this isn't the most pleasant feeling, I think I actually prefer this middle ground: I'm not shutting down emotionally, which leads me to overeating and depression, and I'm also not going completely psycho and chasing my family around with an axe.


Mentioning axes, I watched a new show yesterday on the Lizzie Borden murders that used modern CSI techniques and psychological profiling to shed new light on the case. It seems more and more certain that Lizzie did in fact give her parents 40 whacks, but she was definitely the O.J. Simpson of the 1800s and managed to escape conviction for it. I find these crime/mystery shows mesmerizing. I guess I'm intrigued by the human mind and how it snaps and leads people to horrific acts. Not that I'm seriously planning any massacres, I swear!




I'm know I'm glossing over what led me to this current state. Once again, it's those little straws that build up until the camel's spine snaps from the burden. This current straw really hit me hard, hence the crying I've been doing. After a couple days of this I realized the only way I was going to get over it was to confront the person who caused it. It was difficult, but I did it, and while at first I felt a sense of weakness in exposing my hurt, by the end I felt stronger for standing up for myself and making sure the person knew they had crossed the line.

The reoccurring problem seems to be, however, that I while I am asserting myself more and more, nothing really changes, and these incidents keep happening. I don't know what the solution is. And that scares me.


I guess I just have to keep asserting myself and hope that eventually it sinks in to the people I'm asserting myself to that they're going to keep getting my confrontations until they change their ways. Or perhaps I'll have to get that axe after all...

A Little Better All the Time (It Can't Get No Worse)

Has anyone asked you the question "Lennon or McCartney?" Your choice definitely reveals a part of your personality.

I'm definitely a John Lennon person. For example, when thinking about blogging this morning and figuring out how I'm feeling, I thought of the Beatles song "Getting Better," especially the chorus:

"I've got to admit it's getting better, better

A little better all the time, it can't get no worse."

The main lyrics are Paul McCartney's; the italicized lyrics were added by Lennon. He adds that little twinge of sarcasm, his legendary acerbic wit to temper the sugary sweetness of McCartney's optimistic song.

I am feeling a little better, but I realize I couldn't have felt much worse. I feel like I'm emerging from a thick blanket of fog. The visibility still isn't crystal clear, but I'm not completely blinded and overwhelmed by the fog anymore. Things are coming more in focus and I'm feeling less like I'm trudging through mud to complete the smallest task.

I talked to my sister-in-law yesterday on the phone and she said I sounded better. She's probably my best analyzer, the one person who can read me the best. So it was good to get a positive response from her.

Other signs that I'm feeling a little better: I'm not feeling as driven to hoard and binge on food. I wouldn't say I'm intuitively eating yet, but I don't feel that out of control compulsion to stock up on every binge food I can think of and eat them all until I'm ill.

Another thing: I'm realizing I'm missing my blog friends. I've been unable to concentrate long enough to read blogs, and I'm starting to wonder how some of my pals are doing. Being able to think about others is a good sign that I'm pulling myself out of my self-absorbed depression.

I've got at least another week to see how I'm feeling before I call my doctor back and let her know how I'm doing. At that point I have to decide with my doctor if I'll stay with this lower dose of Lexapro, switch to something else, or quit taking anything. I've heard good things about Wellbutrin -- my sister's doing well on the Zyban version, and others have told me it's worked for them, too. So we'll have to see.

By the way, thanks to everyone who commented on my last post and gave me such nice compliments about my writing. You've really inspired me to think about getting back into my fiction writing. Let's hope I can actually do something about it.

Does This Mean I'm 12 Percent Evil?

I feel like such a tool. A dope. A weak-willed addict.

I did so well today. I ate intuitively and felt really good about it. Hubby and Mabel went out this evening to the convenience store for an evening snack and I didn't ask for anything because there was nothing I really wanted.

Mabel walked back in to the house licking on an ice cream cone from the soft serve place across the street from the convenience store.

"Hey," I started to say in jest (because even after seeing her cone I really didn't feel hungry), "If I'd known you were going there--"

I was interrupted by my husband putting an Aloha Sundae under my nose.

"Mabel said this was your favorite."

Now, the assertive, intuitive, strong willed, non-compulsive me would have said "Thank you, but I'm not hungry right now, " and I would have thrown it away (because it wasn't the type of dessert that would keep, even in the freezer).

But no -- I'm weak, compulsive, and have it ingrained in my head not to waste food. So I ate it. And because I really wasn't hungry I had no gauge of fullness and ate it all.

I know I'm being hard on myself. I could turn it outward and blame Hubby for sabotaging me (he even said he needs to keep his wife "fat and sassy" --aargh!) but that's a cop-out. It doesn't help that he's now lost almost 40 pounds this summer with the help of Meridia.

I did say to him that he needs to call me next time before buying me food. But of course I've dealt with this behavior from him before, addressed it, and yet it's still happening. Maybe because I'm not getting angry enough. Good pal Lori always says people like my Hubby need the good ole' 2x4 over the head treatment for them to even begin to get the picture.

But it still comes down to me. I need to learn to look at a bowl of ice cream and consider myself and my body's needs more important than the few dollars that bowl of food cost.

Perhaps I need a 2x4 over my own head to finally figure this out.

Detour from the Road to Bingeville

It's a rainy afternoon here. Mabel spent the night at a friend's house and is still there until I pick her up in an hour. Hubby's outside with his dad working on our new porch. My mom was here for a few minutes to visit and has just left. I have the house to myself and can do anything I want.

So why do I want to eat?

I'm not hungry -- for lunch I had half a sandwich that was left over from last night's supper, then half a brownie (probably a 2"x2" square) and just a few minutes ago I had a candy bar. The candy bar was bordering on excessive, but I was still hungry, so I let myself have it.

So now I'm pleasantly full, yet in my mind the urge to sneak off and stuff myself is lurking there like a shady character under a lamp post. Ominous but not quite an immediate threat.

And here I am, the Watcher, looking down from my window at this scene, and I can't help but wonder why. This is a reoccurring theme for me -- I get some time by myself, and the urge to binge arises. It's not that I'm lonely -- good Lord I've been so inundated with people lately that I'm been eager for an afternoon like this. I'm not stressed out or angry today -- work was calm and quiet with my Pastor still on vacation. It is that time of the month, but I feel fine.

Someone, and I can't remember who now, figured this situation out on their own blog, and I knew she had gotten me pegged, too. This comes down to the old food for comfort syndrome. I get some time to myself, I want to "treat" myself, and the first response is food.

This isn't anything out of the ordinary. We comfort and treat ourselves with food all the time. As a kid, after a victorious baseball or soccer game the team goes out for ice cream. As an adult, you get a promotion and celebrate with a fancy dinner. As a kid, you scrape your knee and your mom gives you a cookie. As an adult, we have a rough day at work and treat ourselves by stopping at the grocery store on the way home and picking up our favorite comfort food. When someone dies, the family gets trays of food from friends and neighbors.

But when that comforting gets excessive, when it becomes a compulsion instead of a treat, it's time to learn different ways of taking care of ourselves. My first thought was to come here and write about it, to make myself blatantly conscious of what was going on and to separate myself from the old thoughts and behaviors that lead me down the road to Bingeville.

Now the trick is to find something else to do that will be satisfying enough to not make me feel deprived because I'm not giving in to these thoughts.

But you know what? Just writing about it here, lifting myself out of that mind set before the momentum kicked in, has made the urge less intense, less important. I'm not identifying with it, so it has lost its power over me. It's still there under the lamp post, but it's slowly withdrawing out of the halo of light and back into the darkness.

I think the best thing I can do for myself right now is to take 15 or 20 minutes to meditate. Then I'll go pick up Mabel from her friend's house and get on with the rest of my day.

Thank goodness I was willing and able to take this detour from the Road to Bingeville. It's a different path than the one I'm used to, but the scenery's a whole lot nicer.

Invasion of the Pain-Body

What a night. I tossed and turned for a while, woke up at 3 a.m. and agonized over the out-of-control eating that happened yesterday, seeing all my hard work, my years of losing weight, slipping through my fingers. I couldn't even figure out why it happened, and I felt so helpless and unable to control this eating disorder. I started strategizing how I would call the doctor's office this morning and ask if I could try Meridia, because clearly my grasp of this IE is not working and I'm failing, failing, failing. I've been reading about Meridia as a medical treatment for Binge Eating Disorder, and I was convinced this was my only option to save myself.

I'm not sure what time it was when it finally hit me -- I think it was in the 4 a.m. hour. But I suddenly remembered the one part of "The Power of Now" that I hadn't written about here yet, and it clicked immediately. I had experienced a takeover of the Pain-Body.


Eckhart Tolle, the author, says that emotional pain leaves behind a residue of pain that lives on in you. It merges with pain from the past and becomes lodged in your mind and body. It is a negative energy field that can be dormant or active. Anything can trigger it.

This Pain-Body wants to survive, and it only can if you unconsciously identify with it. It gets its "food" through you and feeds on any experience that creates further pain in any form. Pain cannot feed on joy.

Once the Pain-Body has taken over, you want more pain. You are not conscious of this and will vehemently claim that you do not want pain. But your thinking and behaviors are designed to keep the pain going. Its survival depends on your unconscious identification with it, as well as your unconscious fear of facing the pain that lives in you.

Here's what happened to me, as far as I can tell. My Pain-Body was activated by spending the evening with my father. While nothing specifically terrible happened, it didn't have to; I started eating before I even got there just anticipating and preparing for my visit.

I don't write a lot about my father here, because to be honest we have a very distant relationship. I would consider us on good terms -- our conversations are pleasant and there aren't any major issues between us -- but it's very much a relationship of absenteeism. To fully illustrate this, here's a little anecdote that pretty much sums it up: several years ago a woman I worked with asked if she could interview me and my mother about my adoption of Mabel, because this co-worker was working on a book about adoption. She came to visit us, interviewing me first and then my mother. This co-worker came back to me for some wrap up questions, and she asked, "So, how long has it been since your father passed away?" I sputtered and said that he hadn't, and she apologized, saying, "I just thought, since you and your mom didn't bring him up at all, that..." Yeah, you get it.

There came a point for me 15 years ago that I had to emotionally withdraw and lower my expectations for our relationship, because to expect anything more was to create more disappointment and heartache for myself. I came to the conclusion that my dad was giving me all he had to give, and I had to learn to accept that. And to be honest, our relationship actually improved because of it. But it's normal for us to see or talk to each other maybe six times/days a year, and that's a high estimate.

Some of the old problems between us stems from the fact that I believe he associates me with my mother (they've been separated since 1996; the divorce was final in 2001), while my younger sister was considered on his side. Growing up I can remember being viewed as the spy, the stool pigeon who would tell my mother what he was up to and ruin his fun, while Sister was considered his "buddy." And yes, I was often my mother's ally in the war zone; I was her confidante, and sometimes that mother-daughter definition blurred as she relied on me for support. Meanwhile, Sister was Dad's party buddy and was his staunch defender on any number of issues. Since the divorce this division of the family has increased, especially when my sister left her husband and moved herself and her daughters into my dad's house, where she takes care of everything while he's traveling half the year. I live a mile away from my mom's house and see or talk to her nearly every day. So the camps are clearly defined.

I've tried to put these and other bad memories behind me (some of which I've discussed here before), but obviously these things still haunt me. I'm sure Tolle would consider this my Pain-Body. And what triggered my compulsive overeating yesterday? The yearly let-down that my dad once again forgot my birthday.

This has become almost a running joke in the dramedy of my life. My birthday is always the week of Father's Day, sometimes falling on the same day. I always make an effort to recognize Father's Day -- I give him a card, sometimes a gift, get together for a meal at his house -- but the only way he remembers my birthday is if I remind him repeatedly and basically bash him over the head with it. He even has a friend who has the same birthday as me and gives him hell for forgetting it, but it doesn't seem to sink in.

Now believe me, I don't expect balloons, streamers or big presents. I don't even have to get a card. But it would be nice for him to at least throw a "Happy Birthday" my way. And on the years when I do get some recognition because I've reminded and badgered him into remembering, it feels forced and unsatisfying.

So here's my theory of what happened: I started overeating earlier in the day in preparation of being forgotten about once again -- the fear of facing the pain that lives in me. When it did in fact happen, I continued to eat to comfort myself. My Pain-Body was activated by an expected trigger (dad forgetting my birthday), which then came true, and even though the eating was supposed to be a soother, it was really just feeding more pain (my eating disorder) feeding into the Pain-Body to make it even stronger. As if that wasn't enough, my middle of the night self-bashing and the snowballing irrational thinking gave the Pain-Body even more to feast on.

But then something wonderful happened. I did exactly what Eckhart Tolle tells us to do to regain control -- become aware of what is happening. He says:

The moment you observe it and take your attention into it, the identification is broken. A higher dimension of consciousness has come in -- presence. It cannot use you any more by pretending to be you, it can no longer replenish itself through you.

When I let the Pain-Body take over, I became unconscious, which according to Tolle means to be identified with some mental or emotional pattern. It implies a complete absence of the watcher -- my conscious Being. He suggests doing the following to do this:

Focus attention on the feeling inside you. Know that it is the Pain-Body. Accept that it is there. Don't think about it -- don't let that feeling turn into thinking. Don't judge or analyze. Don't make an identity for yourself out of it. Stay present and continue to be the observer of what is happening inside you. Become aware not only of the emotional pain but also of "the one who observes," the silent watcher. This is the Power of the Now, the power of your own conscious presence. Then see what happens.

Well, I will say that I feel better this morning having recognized all of this. It is gratifying to figure out why I do what I do and what causes it. While the perfectionist in me would have preferred that I discover this before I took thirds of potato salad or that third piece of pie, at least I figured it out before it stretched out into Day Two, Three or Thirty. But at least I now know this and will be prepared for the next time. Because if there's one thing I've learned, there's always a next time.

Mother's Day

Today is Mother's Day.

Last night I had this moment of melancholy when I talked to Hubby about how Mabel is now taking showers all on her own.

"She's getting so grown up," I sad sadly.

"Isn't that a good thing?" he replied in confusion.


Is it a mother thing to see the sadness in losing those baby years? I know I mourned the loss of rocking my little one to sleep every night in our rocking chair. I'd sing softly to her and she would nestle in and drift off to the sound of my voice. Sometimes that moment would be the most peaceful and calm of my day, and I treasured it.

Once those cuddly, chubby baby days are gone, they don't come back. The smell of baby powder and baby wipes (gosh those things worked great for stain removal!), the round little cheeks, the corn kernel toes. Marveling over each new word and step.

Of course, there are things I don't miss. Lugging around a baby on my hip plus enough accessories to choke a horse -- the diaper bag, the toys, the change of clothes, bottles, baby-friendly snacks, blankets, stroller. My car was always loaded down like a gypsy caravan.

And while I loved rocking little Mabel to sleep, I remember the countless nights of frustration when I'd try to lay her down in her crib after this rocking and she'd scream and cry. And how many countless nights did I have to get up and change the sheets because she'd pee through her diapers and soak every available piece of material in the crib? Oh, the joys.

I watched Mabel yesterday in gymnastics, doing her back handsprings and front limbers and all those acrobatic feats I could never dream of doing. Her body is changing from those rounded, soft baby days. She's getting a gymnast's body -- lean and toned, defined muscles in her arms, legs and abdomen. With her hair pulled back it ages her even more, and I see the young woman she's turning into. It's enough to make me smile and cry at the same time.

So Happy Mother's Day to all of you Moms out there. I hope today brings you more good memories to cherish.

*****

Yesterday afternoon I had another binge-like episode. I say binge-like because again, it was limited in both food intake and duration. I'm wondering if part of it is habit -- for so many months now my weekends have been foodapaloozas, and it's a routine I've unfortunately gotten accustomed to. Now I'm trying to break that habit and we all know how hard that can be.

Also, I realized that this weekend is the dreaded PMS weekend. This might be a contributing factor to that "need to feed" that's been hitting me. I've also been a little emotional, but not nearly as much as last month. I definitely think last month's breakdown was me hitting bottom with the diet-binge cycle, so it's a good thing that I'm now on this IE path.

I have noticed one big thing about these past two days in comparison to binge weekends of the recent past. Before, for two or three days I would eat and eat and eat some more. I never seemed to get full -- in fact, my body didn't seem to register at all on my radar. I might be a little uncomfortable the morning after -- bloated, a little indigestion -- but once I got the feedbag back on it disappeared again.

These past two days, the extra food I have eaten lays in my stomach like a brick. It doesn't feel right. And both nights I have definitely eaten much less because of that feeling.

So I'm taking these episodes as a blessing in disguise, because it's alerting me to the fact that I am getting more in touch with my body. My stomach is communicating with me again like it probably did 30 years ago, before the dieting and bingeing took over my life. That's progress in the midst of imperfection, which is what this whole process is supposed to be about.

Before I go, I have to reply to Beula's comment from my last post. She asked if I thought I would have been able to go the IE route before losing my weight. I don't think so. But please, don't take that as my recommendation that everyone should go on a diet before they try IE. Looking back at my weight loss, in the beginning I really did try to do it in an intuitive way, along with cognitive-behavioral therapy. And at first that was really working for me. But here's what happened: the allure of that big of a weight loss was so seductive that bit by bit the diet mentality slowly took over my life. I wanted to lose more -- I wanted to be perfect. I got greedy.
And in the end, I think it's made it doubly hard for me. Because now I'm stuck dealing with my split personality of dieter/binger, a Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, if you will. I have two sets of issues -- the deprived restricter and the compulsive overeater -- to now work through. I don't wish it on anybody.

Okay, I must finish getting ready for my Pittsburgh trip. Everyone have a great day!

The IE Challenge

(This morning)
The good news is, I just found a major typo in my Sunday church bulletin. The bad news is I have to reprint 180 copies and now I'm behind, but at least it never made it to the congregation.
I had to go clothes shopping yesterday. I know, most people love it, but those of us who've lost a lot of weight have a lot of trepidation about this. I've talked before about being in that clothing limbo land, where I often can't find clothes small enough in the plus size stores or big enough in the "regular" stores. In addition, I'm at that age (35) where I don't want to dress like a 20 year-old hoochie mama, but I don't want to look like a dowdy old woman, either. It's hard to find clothes in between.

I went to my old stand-by, Fashion Bug, although spring time is always a crap-shoot there because of that hoochy mama/grandma dilemma. But I was lucky this time. I found a couple outfits in the (gasp) regular section, size XL, that looked good, so I splurged. It wasn't all roses and sunshine, though; I had to put a few shirts back because my good ole' tavern ham upper arms wouldn't fit in the sleeves. Despite this, I found myself pleased as I looked in the three-way mirror in these new outfits. I may not be at my "ideal" weight (whatever that means), but by golly, I can appreciate where I've come from and I know I'm the best I can be at this specific point in my life.

I blew through the Intuitive Eating book last night. It was really good, but I felt a little lost afterwards. It was like going through a speed course on driving a car, someone plopping you in the driver's seat, giving you a pat on the shoulder and saying, "Good luck!" Where's my driver's education teacher in the passenger seat with his foot hovering over the second set of brakes? I need guidance!

Fortunately the next book in my pile is a workbook full of exercises to work through this process. It's by another author who has a book on "normal eating" that I read last summer. While I really connected to what she had to say back then, I was nowhere near ready to take the plunge to try it.

*****
(Got swamped at work and I'm finally getting back here.)

What's different now? Well, a year, for one thing. I've basically stalled out on the weight loss, rising and falling around 213 but not making any big progress. February was the third anniversary of my weight loss journey, and I think the diet mentality and the long-term calorie restrictions have finally worn me out. The rebound overeating (mostly on weekends) has gotten more frequent and more intense, and I found myself falling into despair about it and the lack of control and frustration I was feeling.

Throughout this week I've been trying to adopt the IE mind set, and I think I'm making progress. One big revelation is finding odd quirky things I've been doing in the name of weight loss, but in reality were not so good for my health.

Lack of calcium, for one thing. As a kid I used to drink tons of milk (almost always fat-free). And as a result I had good, strong teeth and healthy bones. In the past three years my consumption has decreased a lot, to the point in the last six months that I hardly touch it. The reasoning? I didn't want to "waste" 90 calories a cup on drinking it. To make things worse, I had those calcium chews sitting around the house, but I didn't take them because they were 1. too much like candy, which could be a binge trigger, and 2. added something like 20 calories per chew. How sad is that? I was depriving my poor bones of calcium for what, 110 calories a day?

Here's another one: I've read tons about the health benefits of flax seed oil, but I kept balking at the extra calories of the flax seed meal when put in recipes. Hubby bought me a jar of the flax seed oil gel tabs, but I didn't use them at first because it would have added an extra fifteen calories to my daily total. FIFTEEN CALORIES?!?!

So now I've been taking the flax seed pills every day, and guess what? This morning I drank a glass of milk. Calories be damned!

I still find myself portioning out food, eyeballing portions and even sometimes measuring. But I keep telling myself "you can have more if you're still hungry." And I haven't gone back for seconds yet.

Well, today for lunch I sort of did, but not really. I made myself a sandwich (with real cheese, heaven forbid), ate half of it, then stopped to gauge my hunger. Right at that moment there was a knock on my door; it was the guy we called to give us an estimate on fencing in the back section of our yard. My mother also showed up and distracted me, and by the time they both left it was half an hour later. I went back into the house, and there was my sandwich. I checked in on myself and still felt a little peckish, so I went ahead and finished it. So while I went back for more, it was just the last half of my portioned out sandwich, not a second sandwich.

In the past my lunch would have gone in two different ways: on a "good" day I would have scarfed it all down right away, since I was famished, and knowing that was all I was "allowed." And if it was a "bad" day? I would have already been mentally preparing myself for what I was going to eat next, if I didn't already have it laid out in front of me.

While I feel like it's going well so far, I know the real test will be this weekend, and what a whopper I've got. Tomorrow Mabel and I are going with Hubby and his physics students to Kennywood Park in Pittsburgh for Physics Day. The kids do experiments to determine velocity, momentum, etc., for credit in Hubby's class. I go along as a chaperon, and Mabel gets to ride the rides and get lots of attention from teen girls. Unfortunately I won't be riding much this year since I'm still counting my blessings that my neck surgery went well and the problems I was having with it a week or so ago went away. So I'll be strolling around the park, and you know there will be lots of amusement park/carnival food everywhere.

Then on Saturday we womenfolk are going to Annapolis, Md., to go to my cousin's wife's baby shower. I'm sure there will be lots of nibbles and sweets there. Plus we're stopping at Trader Joe's on our way home.

On Sunday my church is holding its annual Mother-Daughter Banquet, and Mabel and I are going. She's reading a verse about mothers, and we'll both be partaking of the turkey dinner.

So I've got three whole days of food temptations. Can I handle the IE challenge? Eat what I want, without guilt, but stop when I'm pleasantly full (not stuffed). I don't expect to be perfect, but I'm definitely curious about how it will go.

Because the next three days will be so hectic, blogging may be difficult to get to until Sunday. I'll try my best, though. If not, I hope everyone has a good weekend.

A Different Way

Thanks for all the encouraging, supporting comments yesterday. It really helped pull me out of the funk I was wallowing in and made me see the positives that are there, even if they're hard to see sometimes.

The crazy thing is, as out of control I felt on Saturday and Sunday, I seem to magically return back to sanity on Monday. For example, somebody dropped off some doughnut holes at my office yesterday for the Pastor and me to share; I wasn't tempted in the least and gave the pastor the entire bag when he came into the office. And this morning I had to go the bakery across the street (they recently got bought out and I had to talk to the new owner about getting communion bread); I found myself walking out and realizing I hadn't even taken a good look at what was in the display cabinets and hadn't even considered buying anything.

The only way I can explain it is that my weekday routines are so ingrained that my brain immediately falls into that groove I've created where Monday thru Friday= no compulsive eating. Yet when Saturday and Sunday come it's like a werewolf under the full moon. All my rational, higher thinking processes fly out the window and I revert to some starving animal who must consume everything in my path to survive.

I am learning that I am falling into a common syndrome of dieting and binge eating that becomes a vicious cycle. While I have tried hard not to be a "dieter," I have still adopted the general mindset that involves legalizing certain foods and banning others, which leads to rebound eating to compensate for that feeling of deprivation.

There has to be another way. As luck would have it, my package arrived yesterday full of books on Intuitive Eating. I started in on the first one and I'm already getting caught up in it. I've read other books that touched on this subject before, and I've learned things from each one, but I always felt I needed to lose some more weight before I could really do it. Even though these books say most people will lose weight once they give up dieting and eat in response to their bodies, the skeptic in me was sure I'd wind up gaining a bunch first, and I wanted to make sure I was low enough to give myself some "insurance," if that makes any sense.

I'm still not at that insurance weight, but it's becoming more clear to me that I need to find a better way to live, regardless of what I weigh right now. It's also getting to the point that my mental wellness and a saner relationship with food is becoming more important than a number on a scale.

This Intuitive Eating process involves cognitive behavioral therapy, which I really embraced early on in this journey. But the truth is I got caught up in the euphoria of the weight loss and became more and more of a dieter. I may not have joined WW or followed a specific plan, but I started limiting, started counting, started labeling foods and my eating behaviors as good or bad.
I don't regret this, because I did learn a lot about nutrition, portion sizes and feeling my hunger. The latter was really important, because for years I never quit eating long enough to ever let myself get hungry. Sometimes I let myself get too hungry, but that was a learning experience, too. A lot these intuitive eating methods are based on following a scale of hunger, from absolutely famished to overstuffed. At least now I've gotten in better touch with my body and know what these things are.

The other good thing about limiting and weighing food was coming to the realization that I could often be satisfied with much smaller portions than what I previously ate. I now can do a good job at eyeballing a regular portion of meat or a cup of grains and know that I can often be quite content eating that amount of food.

The problem has been my perfectionism, my all-or-nothing thinking, not to mention my low levels of OCD that drive me to take things to the nth degree.

So I'm hoping I can take these books and make a serious effort to try their techniques. That means letting go of the dieting mentality, which means, at least for now, putting this Onederful Bound goal on the back burner. I'm not totally giving up on the concept of reaching 199, but if it happens, it'll occur in a different way, not with dieting. If my brain can grasp these concepts I'm reading about and my body wants to go in that direction, then it'll happen. But I'm just tired of forcing the issue and putting myself through this rollercoaster.

What Happened???

I'm not sure what's happening, but suddenly, I'm better.

I'm not gripped with the simmering anger, I'm not bursting into tears. And the biggest sign of all? I'm cleaning the house. Last night I went around and swept with the broom, scrubbed down the kitchen sink and counters, and stuck our nasty stove burner covers into the oven and did the self-cleaning thing (it seems to be the only way to get that really burned on gunk off). I packed up the Easter decorations and took them upstairs to put them back in the attic.

And this morning, although I felt tired at first and slept in a little bit, skipping my hour cardio, I then did my 20-minute Pilates tape. Then I found myself starting a load of laundry and vacuuming the downstairs! And as I was leaving I was already planning my afternoon, when I intend to attack the den and clean it thoroughly. Cleaning, dear? Who, dear? Me, dear? Yes, dear! (My tribute to Catherine Tate and her character Derek Faye. Can you believe I have my husband and daughter quoting this character?)

This can't all be attributed to hormones. But as soon as my period started, voila, I'm feeling human again. Today, for the first time in a couple weeks, I really and truly feel back in the groove. Several of us bloggers talk about the balancing game we play between the desire to eat and the desire to lose weight. If our desire for doughnuts outweighs our desire to fit in a size 10 dress, all the diet plans and exercise routines, all the self-help books and friendly advice in the world won't help.

For the past two weeks my need to eat -- overeat, oh, let's face it, binge -- had taken over any wish to reach 199 pounds. I was sick to death of cottage cheese and steamed vegetables, I wanted bread and cheese crackers and pasta and lots and lots of Easter candy. And by God, nothing was going to stand in my way until I got it.

It's really like I've woken up from some insane dream and realizing I'm back in reality, or that I'm coming off the effects of some crazy drugs and wondering what in the hell happened to me.

So, am I really back in the proper balance? I'm still sick of cottage cheese and haven't touched it the last couple days. But honestly, I've eaten so much of the stuff in the past two years it isn't surprising I'm tired of it. And I did have some chocolate and pasta (albeit whole wheat) yesterday, but measured portions of it, and no seconds. At supper time especially I felt no need to eat until I was full; I ate my portions, wasn't interested in any more and walked away from the table.

I'm not going to question or debate it too much. If I feel good, I'm running with it. My biggest concern, however, is that this is hormonal, and that in two weeks I'm going to be utterly out of control again with PMS. I am definitely going to be very observant this next month, and if this cycle repeats, I am calling the OB/GYN pronto and telling him this just won't do. Which is a shame, because up until this point I've been pretty happy with the new birth control pill, and I'd hate to have to switch again.

All right, I've got lots to do and the energy to do it, so I best go do it.

Emerging from the Puddle

I've talked before about my favorite show, The Vicar of Dibley. In my favorite episode, Autumn, the Vicar is walking down a lovely country lane with her new beau. They come up to a series of puddles and at first she playfully splashes around in one. Then she goes to splash in the next one and plunges in over her head. The first time I saw it I laughed until I had tears streaming down my face.

Today I feel like I'm bobbing up from that muddy water, wondering what in the hell happened.
As you may notice, I haven't said I've dragged myself out of it yet. But I'm getting there.

It started this morning with an hour on the bike (10 miles), my green tea, and right now I'm sipping at a ginormous mug of water. My food still isn't perfect, but today is the first real day since Thursday that I am craving the need to portion and control my intake. Going to exercise wasn't like pulling teeth this morning, it was just something I wanted to do. I'm taking these as good signs.

So yeah, although I am fairly disgusted with the tumble I've taken, I'm aware that this is incredibly brief compared to even last year. I mean, now I can't go a whole week without the New Me tapping on the inside of my skull and saying, "Yoo-hoo, it's me. Enough of this silliness. It's time to start getting back on track now."

I guess I understand deep down that this compulsive eating is no longer the Normal Operating Procedure. While it's easy to go back to (too damn easy, unfortunately), it doesn't feel right any more. After a few days of it I feel myself wanting to return to the new way I've learned to live.

I am incredibly bloated right now. I won't even say how much because I don't think anyone would believe me. The only way I can figure that this can happen is that all my depleted fat cells fill with this water retention, because I don't know where else this massive amount of weight gain can be coming from. Yes, I've been weighing myself daily, even though I wasn't going to. But I think I needed to do that to keep me grounded and not in denial about what I was doing.

So I'm going to mark my successes for the immediate future by recording my exercise and celebrating each day that I can prevent compulsive overeating. I'm not going to worry about the calories, I'm more concerned about limiting my portions and listening to my body. I guess this is called intuitive eating, which I should really read more about.

Thanks for the support, commenters. I'm feeling kind of fragile right now and knowing you're out there helps so much. I know this blog is one of the big reasons this stumble has not become a complete crash and that I'm picking up the pieces so quickly. So don't worry, I'll be here.