What an idiot! I got in a minor fender bender today and got a ticket. I let myself be pressured by a honking driver who wanted me to pull out into fast-moving traffic and then swerved around me to get out of the parking lot driveway and pulled into traffic ahead of me. I followed him and hit a car he just missed. He was laughing as he pulled away. So I let an idiot turn me into one.
Loss of serenity. Letting someone else's bad behavior affect your decisions. Just a momentary lapse and...boom! No one hurt. My old car has just one more scrape but, of course, the other car was strategically hit in the right front quarter panel and the door with a scrape on the wheel cover. The mother of the young man driving the other car was understandably upset, but calmed down fairly quickly as I apologized and took responsibility.
What amazed me is how she, her son, and her daughter were all immediately on their cell phones and taking pictures with their phones as well as their handy-dandy camera. It all ended fairly amicably since I have good insurance and took responsibility.
But I'll have to go to court to get my license back. Had to call the insurance company. Felt like an idiot.
This is life. I love the serenity prayer at moments like this. It's become absorbed into my nature over the years and in an emergency I go right into that mode.
God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
The courage to change the things I can,
And the wisdom to know the difference.
I couldn't change the fact that I got in an accident or that it was my fault, so I immediately accepted that fact and my responsibility. I could speak calmly and soothingly to the distraught, angry woman, quickly apologizing, and de-escalated the situation quite rapidly so that she apologized to me. I had ignored her screaming at me to stop my car and moved it to a safer place where it wouldn't block traffic and cause another accident. She thought I was leaving the scene. Once she realized my intent, she was embarassed.
Afterwards, I did not go home and eat.
Acceptance and serenity. Two major tools of recovery. I couldn't go back and change what happened, though I surely wish I could have. I didn't dwell on it. I had the courage to admit I was at fault and to change the atmosphere. I had the wisdom to know that I had to act to move my car right away and explain later.
Honesty is another huge tool of the program. "Continued to take personal inventory and when we were wrong, promptly admitted it!" Step 10 of the 12 steps.
I also made amends which is Step 9. In fact, by having a current license and carrying good insurance, I was prepared to make amends in just such a situation.
Now I did call the reckless driver a bad name--something to do with a donkey's hind end, but realized that would get me nowhere and I needed to take care of my business.
And I did. And I didn't eat.
God is good all the time!
All the time God is good!
Saturday, July 25, 2009
Friday, July 24, 2009
Tell Your Story
I was in a restaurant today. I didn't think I'd been experiencing much restriction but I ate bread for the first time (other than a bite or two in the past.) Pita bread with goat cheese, tomato, olive and hummus. Also had a little spanakopita. I bp'd (productive burped, not British Petroleum)into a raised flower bed facing the street (we were seated outdoors) very discreetly. Yuck, yuck, yuck. The nutritionist was right when she said bread can expand in your stomach. I was eating slowly and chewing well and still bp'd. On a good note, my husband and I chewed up the sidewalk in downtown Chicago. I was able to walk and walk and walk. (Think about the initial letters in pita bread. Now reverse them and what do they spell?)
It was good to know that I still have some restriction, but not the nicest way to find out. I sat on the edge of the flower bed with my back to the restaurant and I think the only person who noticed was a motorist whose car was stopped right in front of me. I made sure not to look at her, till she was driving off. She had a very stange smile on her face.
Humor is such an important part of recovery. I told two Christian counselors the name of my blog and they both burst into laughter. Humor lends perspective and keeps us from taking ourselves too seriously. If you've ever been cornered by someone with serious issues who has no sense of humor and who takes every opportunity or topic in a conversation to relate a boring, deadly serious anecdote about themselves, you know exactly what I mean.
Telling our stories is also an important tool in recovery. And you have to tell the bad stuff, too, or the story's not complete and is not believable. If you can do it with a light touch, all the better. But there are some things that happen to us that are totally not funny. That's when we need to convey the emotion and the pain.
I think about people I know and love who were sexually abused. There is absolutely no way to make the telling of that funny. Yet I've seen women smile as they relate the story and minimize its impact on them. Their smiles are closer to grimaces, but they don't know that. I know women who are so damaged by what was done to them (especially with severe, long-term abuse) that they'll never be able to be in a normal healthy relationship or function optimally in the workplace--even after years of counseling and drug therapy.
Many women with eating disorders were sexually abused as children. That doesn't mean that all women with eating disorders were abused, nor do all women who were abused develop eating disorders. I was not abused. But a number of women who were, chose to tell me their stories. Sometimes I've been the first person they've ever told. For them, telling their stories is crucial. Each time they tell another person and are not shamed or rejected for telling, they get closer to healing. Keeping the secret has torn them apart internally. I think women have told me their stories because they sense I am a safe person to tell. All I can do is listen, and that's what I do. I don't tell others. Most of these stories cannot be for public consumption. Sometimes, after a person has told me, they'll find ways to avoid me. The fact that I know their secret is just too uncomfortable for them. But it broke the ice. It will be easier for them to tell the next person.
Everybody has a story to tell. Telling it helps the teller and the listener. When we who are Christians tell our stories, we tell of God's love for us and his grace in walking through the worst experiences with us. Whatever was done to us, was done to him. Whenever we suffer, he suffers. When we laugh, he laughs with us. His is the greatest story ever told, yet he'll listen to our story and hang on every word.
Tell your story.
It was good to know that I still have some restriction, but not the nicest way to find out. I sat on the edge of the flower bed with my back to the restaurant and I think the only person who noticed was a motorist whose car was stopped right in front of me. I made sure not to look at her, till she was driving off. She had a very stange smile on her face.
Humor is such an important part of recovery. I told two Christian counselors the name of my blog and they both burst into laughter. Humor lends perspective and keeps us from taking ourselves too seriously. If you've ever been cornered by someone with serious issues who has no sense of humor and who takes every opportunity or topic in a conversation to relate a boring, deadly serious anecdote about themselves, you know exactly what I mean.
Telling our stories is also an important tool in recovery. And you have to tell the bad stuff, too, or the story's not complete and is not believable. If you can do it with a light touch, all the better. But there are some things that happen to us that are totally not funny. That's when we need to convey the emotion and the pain.
I think about people I know and love who were sexually abused. There is absolutely no way to make the telling of that funny. Yet I've seen women smile as they relate the story and minimize its impact on them. Their smiles are closer to grimaces, but they don't know that. I know women who are so damaged by what was done to them (especially with severe, long-term abuse) that they'll never be able to be in a normal healthy relationship or function optimally in the workplace--even after years of counseling and drug therapy.
Many women with eating disorders were sexually abused as children. That doesn't mean that all women with eating disorders were abused, nor do all women who were abused develop eating disorders. I was not abused. But a number of women who were, chose to tell me their stories. Sometimes I've been the first person they've ever told. For them, telling their stories is crucial. Each time they tell another person and are not shamed or rejected for telling, they get closer to healing. Keeping the secret has torn them apart internally. I think women have told me their stories because they sense I am a safe person to tell. All I can do is listen, and that's what I do. I don't tell others. Most of these stories cannot be for public consumption. Sometimes, after a person has told me, they'll find ways to avoid me. The fact that I know their secret is just too uncomfortable for them. But it broke the ice. It will be easier for them to tell the next person.
Everybody has a story to tell. Telling it helps the teller and the listener. When we who are Christians tell our stories, we tell of God's love for us and his grace in walking through the worst experiences with us. Whatever was done to us, was done to him. Whenever we suffer, he suffers. When we laugh, he laughs with us. His is the greatest story ever told, yet he'll listen to our story and hang on every word.
Tell your story.
Thursday, July 23, 2009
On-line Community and Friendship
In Bandster talk onederland is when the first number of your weight drops to a one. One hundred and something instead of two hundred or three hundred. You hit onederland when you drop to 199.9 lbs. Bandsters put count-down tickers to record their weightloss on their posts to various threads. You see their starting weight, current weight and goal weight. Those who "band" together during a certain month will pick a name which they proudly display in glitter letters on every post.
They celebrate various goals along their journey--onederland being one of them. They celebrate their "bandiversaries", one year, two year, etc. anniversaries of their band date. Jargon has always been a way to bind groups together.
Currently, many of the June Journeys are experiencing "band hell," that time when fills have not begun or not yet begun to make a difference with food restriction. I know I was very careful the past two days and finally lost almost 2 lbs. But today I'm hungry. Actually feeling stomach growling hunger. I'm trying to stick to protein but after I eat it I'm hungry again quickly. Hopefully tomorrow will be a better day. My first fill is August 11 so I've got a ways to go. So far I've lost 28 lbs. I'll be halfway when I reach 35 lbs lost and goal weight will be a 70 lb weight loss.
My clothes are falling off me. I need to go to the thrift store to find clothes--especially pants--that will see me through only a month or two--before they outgrow me. Pants are, of course, the hardest thing to buy at a thrift store.
Its nice to know I'm not alone on this journey. Its fun to discover and participate in a whole 'nuther world that has its own language and celebrations. My 50's plus group is talking about getting together. Deciding where in the United States to do that could be a real problem because we come from all over.
Some people denigrate the various internet communities like Facebook and, I'm assuming, Lapbandtalk as creating artificial intimacy. To me, it feels more like making acquainatances, checking each other out, finding common interests. and possibly establishing some unexpected friendships. There were times when I was in counseling groups and Alanon groups that I experienced some of the best sharing and friendship I've ever had. When the groups fell apart it left a hole in my life. We laughed and cried together, we went out for coffee together, we gave each other advice, but mostly we just listened.
I'm thinking Lapbandtalk is a gracelet (a little piece of God's grace) that's allowing me to once again conversate and share stories with people with a common interest. Before, it was the common interest of having a relative with an addiction. Now its our own addiction. Before the summer is out I hope to find a non-judgemental, non-rule driven support group that will help me continue this lifestyle change. But in the meantime, these fellow lap band journeyers with their willingness to share their stories have become friends. I don't always know their faces, but I'm beginning to know their stories.
In my life I've changed addresses, churches, husbands, interests, and jobs, and each of these changes has brought about a loss of friends. They get harder and harder to replace. I'm going to take my friendships where I can find them. And that includes the internet.
They celebrate various goals along their journey--onederland being one of them. They celebrate their "bandiversaries", one year, two year, etc. anniversaries of their band date. Jargon has always been a way to bind groups together.
Currently, many of the June Journeys are experiencing "band hell," that time when fills have not begun or not yet begun to make a difference with food restriction. I know I was very careful the past two days and finally lost almost 2 lbs. But today I'm hungry. Actually feeling stomach growling hunger. I'm trying to stick to protein but after I eat it I'm hungry again quickly. Hopefully tomorrow will be a better day. My first fill is August 11 so I've got a ways to go. So far I've lost 28 lbs. I'll be halfway when I reach 35 lbs lost and goal weight will be a 70 lb weight loss.
My clothes are falling off me. I need to go to the thrift store to find clothes--especially pants--that will see me through only a month or two--before they outgrow me. Pants are, of course, the hardest thing to buy at a thrift store.
Its nice to know I'm not alone on this journey. Its fun to discover and participate in a whole 'nuther world that has its own language and celebrations. My 50's plus group is talking about getting together. Deciding where in the United States to do that could be a real problem because we come from all over.
Some people denigrate the various internet communities like Facebook and, I'm assuming, Lapbandtalk as creating artificial intimacy. To me, it feels more like making acquainatances, checking each other out, finding common interests. and possibly establishing some unexpected friendships. There were times when I was in counseling groups and Alanon groups that I experienced some of the best sharing and friendship I've ever had. When the groups fell apart it left a hole in my life. We laughed and cried together, we went out for coffee together, we gave each other advice, but mostly we just listened.
I'm thinking Lapbandtalk is a gracelet (a little piece of God's grace) that's allowing me to once again conversate and share stories with people with a common interest. Before, it was the common interest of having a relative with an addiction. Now its our own addiction. Before the summer is out I hope to find a non-judgemental, non-rule driven support group that will help me continue this lifestyle change. But in the meantime, these fellow lap band journeyers with their willingness to share their stories have become friends. I don't always know their faces, but I'm beginning to know their stories.
In my life I've changed addresses, churches, husbands, interests, and jobs, and each of these changes has brought about a loss of friends. They get harder and harder to replace. I'm going to take my friendships where I can find them. And that includes the internet.
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Just Write It
"Life is a journey, look for the smilemarkers along the way." Man, I need to get that copywrited. That's a bumper sticker in the making. That sentence popped into my head as I was finishing my blog late last night when I could barely see to finish the post. It became the title.
I really do love writing this blog. Even though I'm a pretty good writer I tend to put off writing things that I've committed to writing until the last minute. Procrastination. I've heard that procrastinators are frustrated perfectionists who put things off to the last minute in order to give themselves permission to do a less than perfect job.
Personally, I find that I can't concentrate enough to write until I'm up against a deadline. In the case of this blog, I start it when its really time to go to bed. By the time I'm finished I can barely see the page. I also can't stop writing until the ideas stop coming, another reason why I may be afraid to start. I'm always amazed when I'm done to find that its relatively coherent.
Often I just start with whatever pops into my head and keep going. When I'm done I re-read it and realize there's usually a theme. My brain organizes things without me even realizing it.
Still trying to figure out what the theme of this blog is. Or what it has to do with food addiction and lapband surgery.
Just musing on the whole writing process and the way creativity happens. Sometimes ideas pop into my head while I'm walking. Sometimes they're inspired by events of the day. Sometimes ideas that have been percolating in my subconscious for a long time finally rise to the top. Once I start writing about it I can't stop. If I'm passionate about a subject things particularly seem to flow. I'm passionate about food addiction and its effects on me and others.
Having the self-imposed discipline of posting everyday has made me more mindful of the events of the day, the thoughts going through my head, what's important that I need to talk about that others might appreciate.
Although each of these posts is written as a stand alone piece with some references to earlier posts, they are all connected. I'm tracing the history and issues of my addiction that come up while I record the information about where I am in my lapband journey. If I tried to write all this as a pre-planned book, it would never happen. But I've posted at least 40 times. Each post could almost be a chapter in a book. I've never believed I could ever write a book, but, in essence, that's what I'm doing.
I'm also able to really be myself while I'm writing this. You pretty much know the worst about me and you read me anyway. Some of you have written me or told me that you love how I'm unselfconscious, that I've moved you to tears, that you're praying for me, that I'm funny, that I'm inspiring. Mostly, I'm trying to be honest. Life is funny and life hurts.
Everybody secretly desires to by known by someone else. To have the protective outer layers peeled away and the real person emerge where they can love and receive love not just inspite of but because of their peccadillos and insecurities. Its a real risk to put yourself out there in public. Most of us aren't too successful revealing ourselves even to our families. In fact, families can be the least safe place for that kind of revelation.
I hope that those of you who struggle with similar issues (and who really doesn't? Mine is the human condition.) find your own voice and safe people with whom you can use it.
AA's fifth step states, "Admitted to God, to ourselves, and to another human being (usually a sponsor) the exact nature of our wrongs," or maybe we should say admitted our exact nature.
If you're one of those honored with the peeled away self-revelations of another human being, be aware. You are holding something fragile and beautiful and quite perishable. Handle with care.
I really do love writing this blog. Even though I'm a pretty good writer I tend to put off writing things that I've committed to writing until the last minute. Procrastination. I've heard that procrastinators are frustrated perfectionists who put things off to the last minute in order to give themselves permission to do a less than perfect job.
Personally, I find that I can't concentrate enough to write until I'm up against a deadline. In the case of this blog, I start it when its really time to go to bed. By the time I'm finished I can barely see the page. I also can't stop writing until the ideas stop coming, another reason why I may be afraid to start. I'm always amazed when I'm done to find that its relatively coherent.
Often I just start with whatever pops into my head and keep going. When I'm done I re-read it and realize there's usually a theme. My brain organizes things without me even realizing it.
Still trying to figure out what the theme of this blog is. Or what it has to do with food addiction and lapband surgery.
Just musing on the whole writing process and the way creativity happens. Sometimes ideas pop into my head while I'm walking. Sometimes they're inspired by events of the day. Sometimes ideas that have been percolating in my subconscious for a long time finally rise to the top. Once I start writing about it I can't stop. If I'm passionate about a subject things particularly seem to flow. I'm passionate about food addiction and its effects on me and others.
Having the self-imposed discipline of posting everyday has made me more mindful of the events of the day, the thoughts going through my head, what's important that I need to talk about that others might appreciate.
Although each of these posts is written as a stand alone piece with some references to earlier posts, they are all connected. I'm tracing the history and issues of my addiction that come up while I record the information about where I am in my lapband journey. If I tried to write all this as a pre-planned book, it would never happen. But I've posted at least 40 times. Each post could almost be a chapter in a book. I've never believed I could ever write a book, but, in essence, that's what I'm doing.
I'm also able to really be myself while I'm writing this. You pretty much know the worst about me and you read me anyway. Some of you have written me or told me that you love how I'm unselfconscious, that I've moved you to tears, that you're praying for me, that I'm funny, that I'm inspiring. Mostly, I'm trying to be honest. Life is funny and life hurts.
Everybody secretly desires to by known by someone else. To have the protective outer layers peeled away and the real person emerge where they can love and receive love not just inspite of but because of their peccadillos and insecurities. Its a real risk to put yourself out there in public. Most of us aren't too successful revealing ourselves even to our families. In fact, families can be the least safe place for that kind of revelation.
I hope that those of you who struggle with similar issues (and who really doesn't? Mine is the human condition.) find your own voice and safe people with whom you can use it.
AA's fifth step states, "Admitted to God, to ourselves, and to another human being (usually a sponsor) the exact nature of our wrongs," or maybe we should say admitted our exact nature.
If you're one of those honored with the peeled away self-revelations of another human being, be aware. You are holding something fragile and beautiful and quite perishable. Handle with care.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Look for the Smilemarkers
A sliver of moon was showing in the sky the other day while I was playing outside with my grandson, David (4yrs). As usual he wanted to know why. I told him the moon wanted to play with him. Later he was drinking chocolate milk on the front porch and said, "The moon is drinking chocolate milk. He has a chocolate milk mustache."
I love it when a four year old can use his imagination and make a joke. I love it when a four year old accidentally amuses me. David was riding in the van with his dad when he announced, "I want my crocs (sandals)." His dad stopped the car and asked him what he was wearing on his feet. David replied in all seriousness, "Dad, I'm wearing my toes."
Children and laughter go hand in hand. I love being a grandmother and not having to do much of anything when I babysit but enjoy the kids. My two year old granddaughter loves to play hide and seek in her house. She always hides in her closet and she always tells me she's going to hide in her closet. When I try to go home she frequently tells me "You're hungry and you need to eat," in order to keep me there. LOL. She already knows my weakness.
There's a lot of evidence that laughter is good medicine. The Reader's Digest knew that before there were studies proving it.
I use a lot of silly humor when I teach. To teach the ang sound I have a picture-card of a vampire with fangs showing. I'll put on my best Transylvanian accent, make my hands into claws, and say," I vant to bite your neck; I vish to suck your blood." The kids all shriek and laugh and are more likely to remember that ang makes the sound you hear in fang.
I have a game that involves tossing a soft ball back and forth between me and a group of kids while saying math facts. I love to watch for the kid who stops paying attention and I'll look at another child while throwing the ball at the daydreamer who frequently gets hit by the ball which cracks everyone up and serves notice to pay attention.
Today I was on Lapbandtalk, which has become my on-line support group and one of the women told a hysterically funny dream she'd had about another member of the group. Can't repeat it here because it involved partial nudity and showing off a well-shaped body part. Jokes were still flying hours later when I checked back in.
Some of the best and funniest speakers I ever heard were recovering alcoholics telling their stories at open AA meetings. Some of the things they did and the situations they got themselves into were, in retrospect, hysterically funny. Without the humor, they'd have been too painful to tell. The funniest stories I tell on myself involve my ADHD and some of the things I've done as a result.
Humor makes pain palatable. I'm not talking about sarcasm or angry ranting expletive deleted humor. Frankly, I don't consider that humor because it tends to be at other's expense. I'm talking about self-deprecating humor. Humor that gently pokes fun at the human condition but doesn't denigrate others.
One of the funniest stories my deceased mother-in-law told involved driving off to work with her teeth on top of the car. One of the funniest stories my son tells is what happened when he tied our 6 month old 75 lb. Chesapeake Bay Retriever to a lightweight charcoal grill in my parent's driveway. Thank God for the passing motorist who chased down the dog and stopped him before the grill chasing the dog down the street caused the dog to drop dead of a heart attack.
These stories and jokes we tell each other can only happen in community. We weren't created to live in isolation. And I firmly believe that God laughs with us. We're created in his image and he loves us with all our foibles so he must have quite a sense of humor. Humor is his gift to us, a gracelet that allows us to be refreshed, renewed, re-created and ready for the next thing life throws at us.
So, even though food addiction is a serious disease, I try not to take myself too seriously. Life is a journey. Look for the smilemarkers along the way.
I love it when a four year old can use his imagination and make a joke. I love it when a four year old accidentally amuses me. David was riding in the van with his dad when he announced, "I want my crocs (sandals)." His dad stopped the car and asked him what he was wearing on his feet. David replied in all seriousness, "Dad, I'm wearing my toes."
Children and laughter go hand in hand. I love being a grandmother and not having to do much of anything when I babysit but enjoy the kids. My two year old granddaughter loves to play hide and seek in her house. She always hides in her closet and she always tells me she's going to hide in her closet. When I try to go home she frequently tells me "You're hungry and you need to eat," in order to keep me there. LOL. She already knows my weakness.
There's a lot of evidence that laughter is good medicine. The Reader's Digest knew that before there were studies proving it.
I use a lot of silly humor when I teach. To teach the ang sound I have a picture-card of a vampire with fangs showing. I'll put on my best Transylvanian accent, make my hands into claws, and say," I vant to bite your neck; I vish to suck your blood." The kids all shriek and laugh and are more likely to remember that ang makes the sound you hear in fang.
I have a game that involves tossing a soft ball back and forth between me and a group of kids while saying math facts. I love to watch for the kid who stops paying attention and I'll look at another child while throwing the ball at the daydreamer who frequently gets hit by the ball which cracks everyone up and serves notice to pay attention.
Today I was on Lapbandtalk, which has become my on-line support group and one of the women told a hysterically funny dream she'd had about another member of the group. Can't repeat it here because it involved partial nudity and showing off a well-shaped body part. Jokes were still flying hours later when I checked back in.
Some of the best and funniest speakers I ever heard were recovering alcoholics telling their stories at open AA meetings. Some of the things they did and the situations they got themselves into were, in retrospect, hysterically funny. Without the humor, they'd have been too painful to tell. The funniest stories I tell on myself involve my ADHD and some of the things I've done as a result.
Humor makes pain palatable. I'm not talking about sarcasm or angry ranting expletive deleted humor. Frankly, I don't consider that humor because it tends to be at other's expense. I'm talking about self-deprecating humor. Humor that gently pokes fun at the human condition but doesn't denigrate others.
One of the funniest stories my deceased mother-in-law told involved driving off to work with her teeth on top of the car. One of the funniest stories my son tells is what happened when he tied our 6 month old 75 lb. Chesapeake Bay Retriever to a lightweight charcoal grill in my parent's driveway. Thank God for the passing motorist who chased down the dog and stopped him before the grill chasing the dog down the street caused the dog to drop dead of a heart attack.
These stories and jokes we tell each other can only happen in community. We weren't created to live in isolation. And I firmly believe that God laughs with us. We're created in his image and he loves us with all our foibles so he must have quite a sense of humor. Humor is his gift to us, a gracelet that allows us to be refreshed, renewed, re-created and ready for the next thing life throws at us.
So, even though food addiction is a serious disease, I try not to take myself too seriously. Life is a journey. Look for the smilemarkers along the way.
Monday, July 20, 2009
Banding Our Heads
Bandsters have a saying, "If only they could band our heads." They refer to cravings as "head hunger." Over and over they talk about how the lap band is only a tool. Instead of diets, the lap band helps us initiate a lifestyle change. Some still measure, keep food diaries and plans, count calories or carbs or proteins or points, at least during the times they're struggling. But the goal is lifestyle change. Making healthy choices. Not being ruled by food.
Someday, maybe soon, they'll come up with a pill that helps with the head hunger. They're working on it. Until then, we use whatever tools work for us. The lap band is a big one. An amazing number of people are having various forms of weight loss surgery. Like me, they're desperate. Everything else has failed for them. I look at the ads Google puts on my blog page. Some of those things are legitimate. Many are quick fixes that don't work long term. Just the titles make me laugh.
Hope springs eternal, so people continue to try the latest diet fad. What's ironic is that our obsession with weight and dieting is killing us. It's making us fat. It screws up our metabolisms. We end up with metabolic sydrome--insulin resistance--which leads to high blood pressure, high cholesterol and triglycerides, and diabetes.
It would be a whole lot better for us if we all remained a little overweight than if we start the cycle of dieting and gaining the weight back. We weren't meant to stay teenager thin. How ironic that with women we have a cultural obsession to be thinner than women have ever been, yet obesity is reaching epidemic proportions. Forget swine flu or SARs. This is the real epidemic. And its a killer.
As a country we tend to think education can cure anything. I'm sure our already over-burdened educational system is going to be expected to start teaching eating disorders prevention, or nutritional health along with drug prevention and violence prevention and self-esteem lessons. But most of us who are compulsive eaters could get jobs as nutritionists. We have tons of nutritional education yet remain addicted to food. Education is not the cure.
Most of the food industry experiments with products and additives and supersizing and taste sensations just to get us to eat more so they'll profit more. Wouldn't surprise me if the same companies are also heavily invested in weight loss products. It's like the women's magazine covers. There's always a picture of someone who lost weight and a picture of a chocolate cake. What a schizophrenic society we live in.
For me, the biggest resource is God. These blogs are letters to him as well as to myself and whoever else out there is reading them. Essentially, I'm looking at every aspect of my life that contributes to the addiction problem and laying it out before him. Its a way for me to work the 12 steps of any good addiction recovery program.
The band is a tool to control the outward sign of this addiction. But real recovery comes with God's help, working the steps.
1. I'm admitting that I'm powerless over food and its making my life unmanageable.
2 I believe that only a power greater than myself (God) can restore me to sanity.
3. I turn my will and my life over to the care of that higher power.
4. I'm making a searching and fearless moral inventory of myself.
5. I'm admitting to God, to myself, and to another human being the exact nature of my wrongs.
6. I'm becoming entirely ready to have God remove all these defects of character.
7. I'm humbly asking him to remove my shortcomings.
8. I've made a list of all the people I've harmed, and am becoming willing to make amends to them all.
9. I'm making dirct amends to such people wherever possible except when to do so would injure them or others.
10 I continue to take personal inventory and when I'm wrong promptly admit it.
11 I seek through prayer and meditation (and Bible reading) to improve my conscious contact with God and seek only knowledge of his will for me and the power to carry that out.
12. Having had a spiritual awakening as a result of these steps, I try to carry this message to other food addicts and to practice these principles in all my affairs.
Someday, maybe soon, they'll come up with a pill that helps with the head hunger. They're working on it. Until then, we use whatever tools work for us. The lap band is a big one. An amazing number of people are having various forms of weight loss surgery. Like me, they're desperate. Everything else has failed for them. I look at the ads Google puts on my blog page. Some of those things are legitimate. Many are quick fixes that don't work long term. Just the titles make me laugh.
Hope springs eternal, so people continue to try the latest diet fad. What's ironic is that our obsession with weight and dieting is killing us. It's making us fat. It screws up our metabolisms. We end up with metabolic sydrome--insulin resistance--which leads to high blood pressure, high cholesterol and triglycerides, and diabetes.
It would be a whole lot better for us if we all remained a little overweight than if we start the cycle of dieting and gaining the weight back. We weren't meant to stay teenager thin. How ironic that with women we have a cultural obsession to be thinner than women have ever been, yet obesity is reaching epidemic proportions. Forget swine flu or SARs. This is the real epidemic. And its a killer.
As a country we tend to think education can cure anything. I'm sure our already over-burdened educational system is going to be expected to start teaching eating disorders prevention, or nutritional health along with drug prevention and violence prevention and self-esteem lessons. But most of us who are compulsive eaters could get jobs as nutritionists. We have tons of nutritional education yet remain addicted to food. Education is not the cure.
Most of the food industry experiments with products and additives and supersizing and taste sensations just to get us to eat more so they'll profit more. Wouldn't surprise me if the same companies are also heavily invested in weight loss products. It's like the women's magazine covers. There's always a picture of someone who lost weight and a picture of a chocolate cake. What a schizophrenic society we live in.
For me, the biggest resource is God. These blogs are letters to him as well as to myself and whoever else out there is reading them. Essentially, I'm looking at every aspect of my life that contributes to the addiction problem and laying it out before him. Its a way for me to work the 12 steps of any good addiction recovery program.
The band is a tool to control the outward sign of this addiction. But real recovery comes with God's help, working the steps.
1. I'm admitting that I'm powerless over food and its making my life unmanageable.
2 I believe that only a power greater than myself (God) can restore me to sanity.
3. I turn my will and my life over to the care of that higher power.
4. I'm making a searching and fearless moral inventory of myself.
5. I'm admitting to God, to myself, and to another human being the exact nature of my wrongs.
6. I'm becoming entirely ready to have God remove all these defects of character.
7. I'm humbly asking him to remove my shortcomings.
8. I've made a list of all the people I've harmed, and am becoming willing to make amends to them all.
9. I'm making dirct amends to such people wherever possible except when to do so would injure them or others.
10 I continue to take personal inventory and when I'm wrong promptly admit it.
11 I seek through prayer and meditation (and Bible reading) to improve my conscious contact with God and seek only knowledge of his will for me and the power to carry that out.
12. Having had a spiritual awakening as a result of these steps, I try to carry this message to other food addicts and to practice these principles in all my affairs.
Sunday, July 19, 2009
Relatives--Help or Hindrance
My husband threw out all his night-time treats. Just because he loves me. Pretty cool. I let him know I was struggling with the treats he kept in the house and frequently ate in the evenings while we watched TV and played on our computers. In fact, I was just thinking about the ice cream in the freezer and, oops!, remembered Ken threw it out. Thank God. Thank you, Ken.
This disease is not fair to him. It's not fair that his choices impact me way beyond what they should. He can eat ice cream and then let it sit untouched for weeks. He had a taste for yellow cupcakes with chocolate frosting and decided to make them himself, ate a couple, and let the rest sit. For him, no big deal. For me, unbearable temptation.
I know they're there. Knowing makes them pop into my mind over and over. I have to reject eating them over and over and over. Taking care of myself by being honest with my husband was important for me to do. It's part of working on being less people-pleasing when its to my detriment. It is entirely to his credit that he chose to get rid of the snacks and not to eat snacks at night in front of me. He wants to be with me. It was his main reason for giving up smoking when he married me. He couldn't smoke around me and he wanted to be with me.
He'll probably still keep some treats hidden and eat them when I'm not around. That's fine. Out of sight, out of mind. If I don't know its there it won't be on my mind, either. Chances are Ken'll lose some weight, too, which wouldn't be a bad thing.
Night-time has always been my most difficult time. Food has always helped me wind down. Some people drink alcohol. I eat food--it puts me into a kind of carbohydrate coma. Those carbs generally come with fat attached. Perfect recipe for slowly but surely putting on the weight.
So many factors in eating disorders. It's such a complex disease. Relatives can help or they can hinder. Ideally, we shouldn't need the cooperation of our relatives. We're asking them to be codependent. But we also need to take care of ourselves. There are people who would deliberately sabotage those they profess to love. There are those relatives with the same addiction who have a vested interest in keeping you the same and not letting you change. There are those who don't know addiction at all and urge you to eat--they made it special just for you, it doesn't hurt to have a little once in a while, etc. There are also those who would never humble themselves and give up their right to eat what they want when they want it and might actually insist that buy those things yourself and keep them in the house for them.
With these people you need to have heavy-duty boundaries and perhaps actually keep them at a safe distance or even totally out of your life. I'm blessed that my husband is supportive. I'm blessed that he reads my blog because he wants to know me better and understand what I'm going through.
He's a little angry at having to change his lifestyle to accommodate my disease and he's entitled to be. But we talk about it. We're no longer ignoring the elephant (my eating disorder not me) in the room. I may get to the point where he can go back to eating snacks in front of me and keeping my favorites in the house, but not right now. Not with the reduced restriction I'm experiencing while waiting for my first fill.
Once again, weight loss surgery is a tool, not a solution. If I don't take care of myself in my relationships, it won't be as helpful.
I'm grateful that God gave me Ken.
This disease is not fair to him. It's not fair that his choices impact me way beyond what they should. He can eat ice cream and then let it sit untouched for weeks. He had a taste for yellow cupcakes with chocolate frosting and decided to make them himself, ate a couple, and let the rest sit. For him, no big deal. For me, unbearable temptation.
I know they're there. Knowing makes them pop into my mind over and over. I have to reject eating them over and over and over. Taking care of myself by being honest with my husband was important for me to do. It's part of working on being less people-pleasing when its to my detriment. It is entirely to his credit that he chose to get rid of the snacks and not to eat snacks at night in front of me. He wants to be with me. It was his main reason for giving up smoking when he married me. He couldn't smoke around me and he wanted to be with me.
He'll probably still keep some treats hidden and eat them when I'm not around. That's fine. Out of sight, out of mind. If I don't know its there it won't be on my mind, either. Chances are Ken'll lose some weight, too, which wouldn't be a bad thing.
Night-time has always been my most difficult time. Food has always helped me wind down. Some people drink alcohol. I eat food--it puts me into a kind of carbohydrate coma. Those carbs generally come with fat attached. Perfect recipe for slowly but surely putting on the weight.
So many factors in eating disorders. It's such a complex disease. Relatives can help or they can hinder. Ideally, we shouldn't need the cooperation of our relatives. We're asking them to be codependent. But we also need to take care of ourselves. There are people who would deliberately sabotage those they profess to love. There are those relatives with the same addiction who have a vested interest in keeping you the same and not letting you change. There are those who don't know addiction at all and urge you to eat--they made it special just for you, it doesn't hurt to have a little once in a while, etc. There are also those who would never humble themselves and give up their right to eat what they want when they want it and might actually insist that buy those things yourself and keep them in the house for them.
With these people you need to have heavy-duty boundaries and perhaps actually keep them at a safe distance or even totally out of your life. I'm blessed that my husband is supportive. I'm blessed that he reads my blog because he wants to know me better and understand what I'm going through.
He's a little angry at having to change his lifestyle to accommodate my disease and he's entitled to be. But we talk about it. We're no longer ignoring the elephant (my eating disorder not me) in the room. I may get to the point where he can go back to eating snacks in front of me and keeping my favorites in the house, but not right now. Not with the reduced restriction I'm experiencing while waiting for my first fill.
Once again, weight loss surgery is a tool, not a solution. If I don't take care of myself in my relationships, it won't be as helpful.
I'm grateful that God gave me Ken.
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