Phone call, poi and protein bars...

The roller-coaster of one single day...

Woke up to BRIGHT light, after a strange dream...felt a bit like I was still in a place of reverie when I opened my eyes. The bedroom was so lit by the rising sun. If only that sun would drench our ever shaded little patio area, instead of the bedroom at 6 am. Had to wake up an hour later, so I tossed a pillow over my head and tried to doze. More strange half-sleeping dreams chased me groggily out of bed.

Put on a "tough-girl" mask on my heart as I got dressed. Not caring seems to help me get through the day. Seemed like it was a successful solution, until my cooperating teacher pulled me aside as school ended, shook his head and told me I needed to plan better. "They ate you alive today". "I'm thinking about going back to nannying," I retorted, with a sideways glance, half shrug, and cross between a snort and sigh. Bubbles of anger begin to rise to the surface.

They continue through grocery shopping, the most haphazard one in a long time. I had a list, but also tossed things in the cart with abandon. Spent over the limit of what I had hoped the till would total. Pulling into the driveway, I slid up the windows, turned up the electronic music station loud, pulled my knees to my chest and let the sunshine wash over me until my cheeks were hot. It was semi-calming. Passively aggressive  I put away all the groceries while my husband slept on the couch, through the cupboard banging and paper bag crumpling. Then, I made some phone calls. I paced in the neighbors patch of cement, drenched in afternoon sunlight (its always sunny over there; though abandoned too - the fairy house in the small garden area is choked with weeds and the curtains are drawn behind a set of venetian blinds missing ivory pieces like a 1st grader's smile). This helped dull the throbbing in my chest, head and heart. Then, I put on my man's tee-shirt, picked up my poi, set up my laptop and spun for about 10-15 minutes. This also helped. But wasn't good enough.

The next step was a meeting. I turned on an episode of Once Upon a Time instead and then had a beer and scarfed down some pasta. And more. And other things. Ending with three "protein bars" (glorified candy bars). The last one was disgusting, but I was in the "oh, well, its in my hand and I might as well finish it" phase.

Attempting to calm my burbling stomach with hot water now. And get work done for tomorrow. Ha.

God, oh God, where art thou?

There is no where to run.
There is no escape.
Eventually life catches up with you.
And you realize how little and small you are.
And how much you have to learn,
About yourself,
About those people you knew judged
About life's rules and terms.
I don't want to.
I don't want to hurt.
I don't want to cry anymore.
I don't want to be face to face with my character defects,
every day.
And feelings! Oh boy.
Don't get me started.
Feelings suck.

That's how I feel right now. Pouty. Cynical.

Sighing at this inevitable state I'm in, in order to reach a more compassionate and joyful state. I have to trek through the mire that is the shit I caked on myself throughout my life.

By hiding, procrastination, pretending.

I don't want to be grown up. But I can't remain in Never-never land anymore. They kicked me out a couple weeks ago. I'm crying and clawing at the exit door.

I forgot how much I adore books

Time is a luxury, and being of the no-income bracket, I spent the past seven days of vacation sprawled out, curled up, indoors, outdoors with books. BOOKS! What magical creatures that can set your mind to spinning and take your brain and heart and - if you're lucky - spirit places that you couldn't fathom on your own. A week of reading has reminded me, I do have a brain! I can think! Deep thoughts! It's been a while...

How to Be a Woman by Caitlin Moran [2011], is one such paperback I am currently devouring. I'm about half way through, and it's like no book I have ever read. I've never really been much into autobiographies, but I realize now it's because I have never read them! This book will shock you, perhaps bore you at parts, have you cringing, and make you burst out loud in  barks of laughter. I highly recommend it.

The last chapter I just finished was about Fat. With a capital F. With unapologetic flair, Moran takes us through her experience of growing up female, piecemeal. This chapter was dedicated to her experience of fatness as a teenager. She finishes the section with a brilliant essay on what being Fat means and exposes the ridiculousness of the perception of compulsive overeating being farcical and absurd compared to that of other addictions or compulsive behaviors (drugs, alcohol, sex). Why do people flagrantly expose, and even boast, of their misdeeds with narcotics and booze and f***ing ("Wow, I got SMASHED last night and woke up with a stranger, naked) but furtively hide any evidence or trace of excessive consumption of food? If we talked about our food behaviors,

"Then people would be able to address your dysfunction as openly as they do all the others. They could reply, 'Whoa, dude. Maybe you should calm it down on the high GI-load carbs for a bit, my friend  You have gone a bit bongo-mondo. I am the same. I did a three-hour session on the microwave lasagna last night. Perhaps we should go out to the country for abit. Get our heads together. Clean up our act." (p.113)

Disordered eating for me is about secrecy and isolation, from my own consciousness and others. However, the more I can push at the the precarious pedestal that is my pride, by sharing my experience and admitting my actions, the closer it will be to tumbling to the ground in pieces. And that's what I need. My pride to be blown to bits. So I can regain a sense of humility in my fallibility as a human. So I can regain the knowledge and wisdom that I NEED other people, to connect with, to help me, to offer help to them.

About a week ago, I wrote this [April 15th]

FREEDOM. Spring Break! (from student teaching) Today is dedicated to doing nothing, with a little bit of necessity and obligation sprinkled in. As a garnish.

Lately: I had a week of abstinence from last Sunday to the Saturday of two days ago. That end-of-clean-eating-binge sparked the morning of the 13th and picked up fuel throughout the course of the day, culminating in a fireball at my parent's house - the place where I started this blog, and a space that continues to haunt me, as far as eating goes.

It began with not measuring out my breakfast food. Something I do to be reasonable. And I have done it long enough to know how much is just right for my body. Then, I had a second bowl. Afterwards, although I appreciate my home group gathering, my face was grumpy and feet were dragging to the OA meeting. Deep and light-hearted insight and connections with fellows helped to pull me out of the slump. For the duration of the event anyway. Drove home to a lunch that was scattered, prolonged, excessive. My chews matched the speed of the clicking of the remote. Left to meet my mother and drive south an hour and a half to a "typical get fat american restaurant" as she unapologetically labeled it. My extended family from Canada was staying at Great Wolf Lodge for one of the kid's birthday celebrations and wanted to eat at Red Lobster, for the seafood and the 2-for-1 online coupons they brought with them. Several hours later my mum and I left to return to the house I grew up in. Just us, as my brother and sister were staying with the rest of the family and my step-father was out of town.

We arrived, my phone was dead, I didn't plug it in. STRIKE 1. I needed to talk to someone immediately upon entering the premises of potential over-eating doom. "Let's watch Netflix" she suggested. I was tired. I did not want to watch Netflix. "Okay" I said cheerily. And got popcorn (a big no-no) and salted nuts (an even bigger NO-NO). STRIKE 2. "I'm going to bed," she announced after two episodes of Psych. "I'm going to watch one more episode", said I, attempting nonchalance while my eyes shifted and twitched nervously. "Will you be okay with food tonight?" she asked concernedly? "Oh yes, I'll be okay." Lie. STRIKE 3, light it up and watch the day and night and next day burn up in the farts of over consumption of carbohydrates.

Thank the Earth Goddess for a fresh, cold, bright Spring morning upon awakening. And the luscious trails behind my parents' house that I walked around with the puppy while my mum raked and clipped and cleared. Spinach is a cure all, and a bowl full with balsamic and strawberries helped me break the curse of the day-after-binge-restriction that always perpetuates the cycle.  Then, that afternoon, the blessing of a massage gift certificate left me walking out of a deep tissue experience feeling like a new person into a brand new day. Though later, I would feel like I had been hit by a truck, and miss an evening meeting (guiltily pleased). Think the release of tension released other toxins or energies in my body and feel a little bit sick today. Could also be the poor nutritional choices and poor sleep quality from Saturday night.

[p.s. blogger is being all weird, and if I don't use a color behind the bottom portion of this post it looks like a bottle of white-out was spilled on the text]

Yesterday, I lived a vision. Felt a paradigm shift. I was a rock - a grey, dull, cold stone in the empty black cavern of my abdomen. Through visualization, I metamorphosed into a dancing multicolor energy field in an expansive, bright golden-yellow meadow under the dome of a deep, bright blue sky.

This is the letter I wrote to the woman I think of as my "spirit guide" and refer to as "counselor lady":

R,

Thank you for the clarity that yesterday brought. I woke up today and felt a feeling of being "up to the challenge" instead of "drudging through". Already seeds of excitement, hope and vision for the future are pushing out the cynicism. It was really powerful to acknowledge my truth and not be afraid of it. And to let it take me where I am supposed to go, on whatever path that will be. The experience of connecting with a future version of myself - one that was confident, full of energy and even a bit mischievous - (things I haven't felt in a long while) was inspiring. It reminded me of what I have felt like before, and that I can feel that way again. 

Sincerely,

P

This is what I felt like beforehand, going into the session:

I have felt the joy and sense of freedom that can come from abstinence. But in this time, whatever I have been trying to shove down with food is surfacing and I realize I need help. The cycle of compulsive eating and exercising was my purpose in life. It demanded all my attention, and everything else was relative to it. It was a  way of managing anxiety and fears of the futility of life. 

Now, I feel bouts of anger followed by sadness and then periods of grey. There is this sensation that a ceiling is in my head, and continually pressing down on my brain. I am tired all the time. I feel disconnected from people and events around me: like I am seeing them, but not a part of them. It has been suggested that I ask about anti-anxiety and antidepressant medications. I feel like I am wearing cynical tinted glasses that show me my previous dreams and aspirations as fantasies. Fantasies that are unrealistic and unattainable. My perspective of and attitude towards my current situation is choking my spirit and my heart. 

With food...for the first time in my life, I feel disinterested in it. It's not working. Its not helping me cope. Where do I go from here? what do I do? OA is interesting and giving service pulls me out of isolation and into the "stream of life". I feel a force that is pushing me to reach out to everything and anything that can help. It is both a Need and a Want (!) to soak up support. 

Change is happening/has happened. The food I put into my body is "cleaner". I try to eat more natural and attempt intuitive eating, listening to what my body wants. Spinach for breakfast? Okay, why not...wow, that was delicious! Also with exercise, listening to the intelligence of my cells instead of the impetus of my ego. The loose structure of "3 meals, 2 snacks if needed" has proven flexible enough but also gives me some boundaries to stay within. This is progress not perfection. Distraction (from eating) and extension (of eating a meal) are common occurrences. But replacing breads and sugars with whole fruits and vegetables...I really have to stop and check in and realize how much more "together" my body feels, even if other changes are taking place in my mind and spirit. When I do overeat, eating more nuts, plain yogurt and fruit does not destroy my body like bread products did. There is less recovery time. Also, over time, with practice, letting go has become a viable choice that I can turn to. Instead of over exercising. Instead of pounding myself into the dirt. Instead of cleaning the whole house like a mad woman. I write about it. Then go to bed. Miracle of miracles. Just writing this out is filling me with a sense of awe at where I am and where I have come from. I would recommend it. Sit down and write with the intention of identifying where you are now, and from where you have come. Focus on the changes. 

A letter to my sponsor

I've been lying. By omission. Not telling the whole story, keeping parts of the picture covered. Had to burst the bubble of guilt sloshing around inside me. I wrote my sponsor a letter, trying to type out the state of thoughts and feelings I find myself at:

 Hi Lady, Sending an email first, before calling (tomorrow now, its getting late tonight) because its easier to organize my thoughts through typing than talking. I hope you are doing okay, saw your post in the OA facebook group the other day.
 The fear I harbour about being 'one who is incapable of being honest and therefore not able to move forward with the program' has manifested in an idea that the reason I cannot move forward is because I am not ready. I don't know if I will ever be ready. "The grass is always greener" seems to be my constant mantra through my life. I whine that my abstinence is too restrictive then all hell breaks loose when I can eat cereal again. Binged today and yesterday, on grains and sugar. Then exercised after. Not premeditated. But a way for me to feel a measure of stability after chaos. I have A and want B, then cry out for the former when the latter is in my lap.
 I think this contrary nature is part of my disease. I want to eat my cake and have it too. But that's not how life works. And I can't seem to accept that, and let my willful ego go. So I'm putting it out there that I don't want to be wasting your valuable time; valuable especially because another sponsee could take my place who is actually ready to do all that is needed to move forward. I guess I'm just not there yet, because I feel like if I was, it would have happened by now. Going to sleep in a bit, will write on it, pray on it, dream on it and give you a shout to talk about it.
 Namaste, *Me*

The Happiness Project

I'm reading a book. It's called, "The Happiness Project" by Gretchen Rubin. So far, I feel like I am reading the work of my future self, that is how much I exactly relate to what Ms. Rubin is saying, sharing, remarking upon. It's a little bit scary. But also exciting. I am engrossed in a book like I haven't been in a long while. My book tastes are changing. I still enjoy the escape of fantasy, science fiction and fiction in general. But since program, since Overeaters Annoynmous...er, rather, since my rather recent participation in the program...I have found myself wanting - no, craving! - immersion in the magic that is possible in Real Life. I am beginning to taste the sweet and salty of my feelings, instead of the food. Life is no where near perfect, but it's darn well pretty far from where I was when I wrote last. So, by that account, from that standpoint, maybe where I am now is perfection? Humans tend to think we will be slightly happier in the future, than our current state. This is the future. And I am happier :) The challenge (one of them) for March in THP [The Happiness Project], is to take on a challenge [ha]. So, here I am, coming back to this space, this place of spilling my heart out. And it makes me realize, I guess I always did have a heart, to spill. And that I use way too many commas in my writing. Sheesh. http://www.happiness-project.com/