Getting Real

I hugely disappointed myself last night. First of all, I weighed myself. My scale had been hidden away (not on purpose) for ages now, and I finally got around to cleaning under our tub yesterday and it was pulled out. Like a body possessed I found myself standing on it and looking aghast at the number that appeared. I knew I had gained a lot of weight, but I was really surprised. I was at least ten pounds more than I thought I was. It made me super depressed, which led me down a somewhat destructive eating path, really just piling on top of a weekend that already had a theme of overindulgence. I was mad at myself for letting my weight get away from myself so badly again (I haven't weighed this much in three years), but I was also upset because I even weighed myself. I like how I look, and now I'm letting some stupid number ruin that for me. Of course, this does reinforce the fact that health wise I need to really stick to the changes I decided to make at the beginning of the month and truly work harder at eating mindfully.

But it also reinforces that this issue I have with food is truly an addiction, truly something in my head, something that goes beyond not have "willpower." I'm not trying to detract from my own faults in this weight gain, I mean, I did purchase, cook, and eat the food that has caused my weight gain, but I can't tell you how many times I've eaten an outrageous amount of food, rationalizing it the whole time, then, when it's gone, looking back, almost as if I had woken from a dream, unable to believe I had actually done that.

I've spent the last 24 hours feeling so full of self-loathing, and then feeling angry that I'm so full of it. It's like these two parts of me are battling each other, and I don't know who to let win, or if I even have a choice in that. While I'm often thankful I'm not significantly affected by my eating disorder (I mean, I would say I have a "mild" case), and I've not been hospitalized, I haven't had a significant binge in a long time (I'm just chronically overeating, sometimes to the point where I feel chronically ill) and I haven't started eating straight bags of sugar or something (as can happening with binge eating disorders), this all still super, duper sucks. I'm in this weird place where I just don't want to think about food any more, but I can't think about anything else.

I sometimes wonder how much more I could get done and how much better I'd feel if I just stopped eating.

But I know I can't do that, like physically can't. I like eating too much. It elicits too much pleasure for me to not do it.

Ugh. I hate this. I hate this. I hate this.

Scary Territory

The idea of intuitive/mindful eating (paying conscious attention to what and how you're eating) is so incredibly frightening to me. I'd rather be on a restrictive diet than eat mindfully. I literally hear the words, "But the whole point of eating is to not think about it." That line of thought just conjures itself up naturally, but when I really listen to what I'm telling myself or type it here I realize how bizarre that sounds.

I spend a lot of time trying to avoid thinking about my food when I eat. I watch TV. I read. I work. On the rare occasion we're all at the table together with the TV off or NPR not going I will ask my husband and kids to just talk. I just want to listen. I can't even listen to music when I eat in the car, because it's not stimulating enough to distract me from thinking about my food, so I'll switch to talk radio. I will choose Glenn Beck (I'm a diehard liberal) over thinking about my food.

When I eat, whether for emotional or physical reasons, I want to eat mindlessly. On the face of it, I feel it's because I'm bored. I don't like just sitting there, eating. I want to listen to something, to unfocus, to let my mind go somewhere where I am not. I guess this is why eating is an escape for me. The eating fills me up, physically and emotionally while I also get to escape my reality for a little while. I cannot express the calm and joy and I feel in parking somewhere with food, turning on my radio or pulling open a book, and eating in my car.

Thinking about it now makes me feel that is really strange. Like, really fucked up.

My absolute biggest challenge in life is learning how to cope appropriately with negative emotion. I don't have healthy coping mechanisms for stress and depression, clearly, and I also don't have them when it comes to handling my anger, but that, as an issue, is somewhat separate from this one. I don't eat when I'm angry or anxious, at least when I'm not in the midst of it.

I feel like if I could just find a better way to destress, a better way to make myself feel as calm and good as eating while tuning out does, then I could get a handle on this. And I know that I need to start eating without anything else going on, when possible, but I just don't want to. I'd rather eat plain salad for the rest of my life if it also meant getting watch Real Housewives or read Outlander at the same time.