May 1, 2008
It struck me this evening that this may actually be a real problem.
Unfortunately, it's pretty much the lamest real problem I can imagine...because my problem is that, rather than coming home to a glass of wine, or even scotch, I would much prefer a stack of pancakes. (Pancakes that, I should add, will be shoveled into my mouth within seconds after leaving the stovetop.) And rather than put on a sweatshirt when I feel a chill, I would rather eat ninety-four Clif Bars. And instead of reading a book or going out with a friend or doing ANYTHING, I would rather eat thirty pints of ice cream...
So for some reason, tonight was the night. It struck me that this pattern in preference and behavior is not normal. Nor is it okay with me. It started with a curiosity about what other people do after work...remembering that I'm growing up and I don't feel grown up in my preference of pancakes over wine as a relaxant after work...and wondering if my neighbors had ever seen me eating like a starved wolf in my own kitchen...and wondering how I've managed to live with my lovie for a few months already, and how I could ever to manage to do it, while appearing relatively normal and healthy...and wondering if I actually have been relatively normal and healthy while he's been living here. So, slowly, while salivating and waiting for my next pancake to cook through, I remembered that this really is a problem...and it's not part of my past. It still exists.
I also remembered why I created this website: because no matter how fucked up my little "problem" makes my own life, it will always sound lame when it comes out in words.
e.g.
"I have a problem with eating too many pancakes."
Imagine the response: "Okay...so do you regurgitate them when you are finished?"
"No. I just eat too many, too quickly."
"Oookayy....."
...or...
"I feel much better when I stop eating for a few days at a time"
Imagine the listener's difficulty comprehending that someone so un-skinny as myself has ever gone that long without eating...and wondering what the problem is since I still appear to be...normal.
It goes both ways. No matter how serious the problem, it will always sound less-than-serious when it comes out. And no matter how lame it all sounds in words, it is still a serious problem in my life.
It still keeps me from feeling like a complete person, feeling 100% myself, feeling healthy and energetic...and I don't know what to do...
December 1, 2007
Where should I start? I vaguely recall deleting all of my journal entries a while ago. I could just be imagining what probably happened -- I hated remembering most of that stuff so I decided to get rid of it, hoping that would get rid of all the shame and memories inside me. Well, a lot of it has disappeared from memory. I wish I hadn't deleted it though, there are a lot of things that I've learned and forgotten. It's funny to find myself struggling with the same things I was a few years ago, not knowing how to deal, and then finding something I wrote a couple of years ago when I had it all figured out. I don't feel like I'm at a blank slate...I feel like I'm at a slate that's been written on, erased, smudged, confused, forgotten...
I know this sounds corny but I saw a bumper sticker yesterday that said "remember who you wanted to be." It pissed me off at first because it sort of implies that you should be dissatisfied with who you are, that you should be something different...but taken as a gentler reminder it can be helpful. I read through some of the things I wrote in my "recovery" section on the website that I had forgotten completely. I kind of admired myself, impressed with how thoughtful and devoted I seemed. Nowadays I feel like I try not to think about things at all. Because it got me nowhere.
Well that was depressing. But point proven -- I won't dwell on that thought, and I guess that's a good thing.
Hey yeah that's a good thing -- I don't hang onto things like I used to. If I binge, I don't sweat it for the following week. I pull myself together and get back on track the next day. I might not sit down for a therapeutic journal-writing session to analyze every cause and effect of the binge, so maybe I'm not addressing the core of the problem, but I pull myself together and function. Maybe that's why so many people go through therapy, talking and journaling and analyzing, and never actually "recover," never just learning to get through the next god damn day.
Ugh, this is not going where I'd hoped. I'll quit while I'm...wherever I am...
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