Now I'm going to share about when I decided to go into an eating disorder treatment center. And for once I'm without a snappy intro or a funny line. For once, I've.Got.Nothing. I want to share this part of my journey because if I begin to keep things secret, it means I'm embarrassed or ashamed of something I've been through. I'm working very hard on letting that sort of thinking go.
So in 2005 I was in my first full year of being a supervisor, and was struggling with the new responsibilities and duties of my job. Being responsible for my self in the work place was never a problem. Being responsible for the efforts and motivations of others and the production of a department of 8, that's a horse of an entirely different color. I was certainly using food as a crutch to handle stress, anxiety and the fear that despite all my fervent attempts at people pleasing. As I desperately tried to keep my fingers in the dam, the overwhelming depression that I had experienced in college was beginning to rear it's ugly head. I was pretty much doing NOTHING other than working, and going to my apartment after work and eating large amounts of binge foods as a way to relieve the pressure cooker of stress and anxiety that was brewing. The damn finally broke one weekend when two people in my recovery community were working at my house to help me break out of my isolation, and when one of them had the gentle care about them to ask me, "How are you doing?", I just completely lost it. After 45 minutes of crying it was apparent to me that possibly drastic measures would be necessary. After some serious thought, and consultation with trusted member's of my support network at the time, I made the decision that it would be necessary to take a leave of absence from my work and seek intensive inpatient treatment for my depression and also help handling my compulsive overeating. That meant deciding to check myself into an eating disorder treatment center.
Someone I knew had recently had received successful treatment at a facility that was located in Southern California, and for lack of better options I researched that facility as a possible option. The only other facility that I was considering was located in Florida and due to my weight, I was not prepared to undertake air travel to get to a facility. After speaking with an intake coordinator at the facility which was located in Ventura County, I made the decision that I would check into the facility on the following Wednesday. The day I made the decision was on Thursday. When I called my parents to let them know what was going on and what I the action plan that I had prepared, the only words that I received were words of encouragement. I will forever be grateful for their IMMEDIATELY supportive response. They told me to do what I needed to do, and if my insurance would not cover the treatment they stated they were prepared to take a mortgage on their FULLY paid for home, to assist in making sure I received the help I needed. I don't discount their tremendous gift of generosity. I also made the decision to tell my boss ONLY what was required by law, which was that I was taking a medical leave and that I would be gone from work for at least a month. She was surprised by my announcement but was very respectful.
I had given the women who had been at my house the permission to share with the recovery community that I was seeking inpatient treatment and would be leaving town for a rather prolonged time. The supportive response I received was truly wonderful. A couple who attended meetings together graciously offered to foster adopt my 9 year old kitty Maya. They were true kitty lovers and lived quite close to my apartment and I knew that she would be well taken care of and possibly spoiled to the point where she might not want to come home with me when I returned. Many people asked me what they could do to offer support and I just asked for good thoughts and that I would let them know after I'd had a chance to get settled. On a Monday morning, after kissing my beloved fur child the day before when she was picked up for foster care, and having a friend hang out with me all day before to provide support and encouragement, I got in my car and began the journey.
Upon getting to the facility I was rather surprised to find it located in a somewhat residential neighborhood. I discovered when I arrived that I had decided to check in on the day that the treatment team did their team meetings and so to say that the staff was a bit scattered was an understatement. I was shown around, met with the intake person who did a brief interview and then given one of the most thorough medical exams that I'd ever received. It may or may not surprise people to learn that being a compulsive overeater is not a sufficient diagnosis to be admitted for inpatient treatment at an eating disorder treatment facility. What got me admitted was a diagnosis of major depressive disorder, which qualified me for inpatient support. The first night I was sleeping in a bed in a room with other girls for the first time in my life, I was homesick, scared, and totally convinced that I wasn't really as bad off as I thought I'd been. Little did I know the journey that lay ahead.
For someone who lived with my parent's during college, being in this treatment center was my first opportunity to be living in a communal situation with other people, who were primarily young women. Because I was choosing to check in during the summer, I didn't realize that many young women would be there because they were on break from college. I felt like I was 20 years old. Learning to coexist with others was a very positive opportunity for me. I learned a lot.
One of the overriding emotions that came up when I was admitted was insecurity. Because 95% of the patients who were receiving treatment were suffering from anorexia or bulimia, and were extremely thin, I immediately began to feel like I didn't deserve to be there. After expressing my feelings to the counselor that would be my small group counselor, she put me on the spot to share my feelings to the group that I would be participating in daily. I just felt acutely insecure and vulnerable, which in retrospect I learned is a good place to be if you're looking for significant change.
After consulting with the psychiatrist on staff, I was placed on a dose of antidepressant medication that began to help me out of my malaise. Daily therapy and group sessions made for full days and challenges. One of the things that drew me to this facility was their use of the 12 Steps as the foundation of recovery. My first big writing assignment was to do a first step examining my powerlessness over food and the unmanageable state of my life. After writing it, I was required to share it with the group. My aversion to verbal confrontation that I had developed at home because of my parent's constant arguing was put to the test living with people who were seeking help mental health issues as well as potentially life threatening eating disorders. It was a truly educational experience and that's all I'm going to say about it because specific detail I don't feel is necessary.
Because I had previous experience with 12 Step recovery I felt grateful to feel a bit ahead of the game. I also had a built in support group at home waiting for me who OVERWHELMED me by sending cards and letters of support. My fellow patients thought I was special in some regard because after I told a member of the fellowship that getting mail could be the most helpful thing, I believe I received 2-3 letters every other day at least while I was in my inpatient phase of treatment. I also received some photo post cards from my kitty's foster family, showing her lounging around and looking rather unfazed by her new surroundings. I was glad to see her getting love and special wet food for her time away. About half way through my inpatient treatment I also decided to divulge to my boss where I was and what I was doing while on my medical leave. Part of the reason was because I was located less than 15 miles away from where she lived. Her response was very supportive and she came to visit during the weekends when family time occurred. It helped me to feel not so alone. I received other visits from coworkers that I typically spoke to only on the phone.
All in all, I am grateful that I made the decision to seek such intense professional help with regards to my issues surround food and depression. I wish I could say that I never compulsively overate again after treatment but that would not be accurate. There were things that I didn't necessarily find helpful specifically related to the treatment center I had decided to go to. But I will say that the facility saved me from a potentially life threatening depression and gave me a chance to focus solely on my emotional well being, which was necessary. I would definitely encourage anyone who believes they need intensive psychological and focused therapy for an eating disorder to seriously consider inpatient residential care. My only word of caution would be to research the facility you choose thoroughly.
Friday, June 22, 2012
Tuesday, June 19, 2012
Old Habits Are Hard to Break
If you ask anyone who has an addiction what led them to relapse, there could be one of a thousand different answers. I am someone who has experienced relapse in my journey of recovery. I wish I didn't have to learn lessons in quite such a painful fashion, but sometimes it takes what it takes. After being in OA for 2 1/2 to 3 years I had lost 189lbs and was slowly beginning to approach a more normal body weight. I remember when I weighed in and the scale registered a number that started with the number 2. I believe there was a subconscious decision that I made at that point that I wasn't going to lose weight, and in fact I started putting weight back on. I moved from the first apartment that I was in to an apartment that was closer to where my social life, but it also enabled me to make choices that did not serve my health of continued weight loss. My weight started slowly creeping up and I put on a happy face and was doing my utmost to make people feel like I was "fine". In the midst of no longer making progress in my physical recovery I had taken on two substantial service positions within my recovery community. My need to people please and do for others left me in a position where I was unable to be honest with myself about what was necessary to place my recovery first in my own life. LET ME BE VERY CLEAR: I believe with every fibre of my being that the 12 Step recovery process WORKS. The trouble that I got into was that I stopped doing the things that brought me success in recovery in the first place. My relapse in recovery is NOT the result of a failure of the program, it was my failure to work the program.
As I continued to work at the health care agency I knew that I needed to move out of the department that I had started working in. I spent concerted time working for a promotion and finally was offered the position of being a Customer Service Supervisor of a small call center team. It was a big sign of external support for me that I needed at the time, but in retrospect I think that the stress of the new position was a trigger for even more uncontrolled eating. I made the approval of people I worked for more important than my physical, emotional, and spiritual health. Part of the challenge was that my direct manager worked in Southern California while I worked in Sacramento. It left me feeling like I was sort of hanging out on a limb in this new position. As I learned at a training seminar for new supervisors, being good at what you do, DOES NOT make you good at supervising people who are doing what you used to be good at. While I don't blame ANYONE for my choice to pick up food and behaviors that I had put down, I realize that I was not set up for success. As my stress and anxiety level grew, it just became easier to make poor food choices, go to fewer recovery meetings because I was "tired" after a long day or work , and generally let go of everything that had gotten me to where I was. Anyone who has worked in a call center will attest that the wind blowing from the east is a good enough reason for a pot luck, and as I began to participate in those pot lucks, it was one of the final nails in the coffin of my progress.
As I continued to put on weight I began to have more substantial consequences due to my weight. I had to start using a cane because of the inflammation in my knees that was creating balance issues. I wasn't able to walk effectively with my left hip being do degenerated and my knees had started to exhibited inflammation and loss of mobility. I began to have incidences where my balance would fail and I would fall down. Because of my weight and my joint problems I was unable to get up myself. It was absolutely MORTIFYING to not be able to get myself up after falling. It would take calling the fire department to help me get up. Being 30 years old and having that happen was such a shaming experience if I could have crawled in a whole and died I would have gratefully done that.
As my disease became more and more encompassing, my depression grew again. I couldn't accurately voice my shame and anguish about being in relapse, to the people in the program who had become so important and vital to my life, and whom I had grown to love so much. There is nothing worse that feeling shame and being unable to be honest about what was going on. I wanted SO BADLY to feel like I had my "S%*T" together. I wish even today I could surgically remove my ego from my mind and body. As far as I can tell, the only purpose it serves is image management and making me feel "separate from". But that may change over time.
In my next post I will share about my decision to seek inpatient treatment for my eating disorder and what I experienced during that time.
As I continued to work at the health care agency I knew that I needed to move out of the department that I had started working in. I spent concerted time working for a promotion and finally was offered the position of being a Customer Service Supervisor of a small call center team. It was a big sign of external support for me that I needed at the time, but in retrospect I think that the stress of the new position was a trigger for even more uncontrolled eating. I made the approval of people I worked for more important than my physical, emotional, and spiritual health. Part of the challenge was that my direct manager worked in Southern California while I worked in Sacramento. It left me feeling like I was sort of hanging out on a limb in this new position. As I learned at a training seminar for new supervisors, being good at what you do, DOES NOT make you good at supervising people who are doing what you used to be good at. While I don't blame ANYONE for my choice to pick up food and behaviors that I had put down, I realize that I was not set up for success. As my stress and anxiety level grew, it just became easier to make poor food choices, go to fewer recovery meetings because I was "tired" after a long day or work , and generally let go of everything that had gotten me to where I was. Anyone who has worked in a call center will attest that the wind blowing from the east is a good enough reason for a pot luck, and as I began to participate in those pot lucks, it was one of the final nails in the coffin of my progress.
As I continued to put on weight I began to have more substantial consequences due to my weight. I had to start using a cane because of the inflammation in my knees that was creating balance issues. I wasn't able to walk effectively with my left hip being do degenerated and my knees had started to exhibited inflammation and loss of mobility. I began to have incidences where my balance would fail and I would fall down. Because of my weight and my joint problems I was unable to get up myself. It was absolutely MORTIFYING to not be able to get myself up after falling. It would take calling the fire department to help me get up. Being 30 years old and having that happen was such a shaming experience if I could have crawled in a whole and died I would have gratefully done that.
As my disease became more and more encompassing, my depression grew again. I couldn't accurately voice my shame and anguish about being in relapse, to the people in the program who had become so important and vital to my life, and whom I had grown to love so much. There is nothing worse that feeling shame and being unable to be honest about what was going on. I wanted SO BADLY to feel like I had my "S%*T" together. I wish even today I could surgically remove my ego from my mind and body. As far as I can tell, the only purpose it serves is image management and making me feel "separate from". But that may change over time.
In my next post I will share about my decision to seek inpatient treatment for my eating disorder and what I experienced during that time.
Monday, June 18, 2012
The More Things Change the More They Stay the Same
As I continued in my journey in recovery, life began grow in size and complexity. I began to live with a zest that I had not known before. Where I had previously enjoyed being around my friends because I could focus on their lives to the exclusion of my own real issues; I now was able to be open and honest about my life and enjoy receiving genuine friendship and support from people who I shared my life with. In addition to being more emotionally connected, I also was finding that life was getting progressively easier as I began to lose weight. I had made the decision that I would work on finding a scale the would accommodate me and weigh in once a month. This allowed me the accountability I needed while not making me a slave to the number on that scale. I was consistently losing 10 pounds a month while using a plan of eating that involved eating three meals a day, nothing in between and no sugar and certainly no Wheat Thins. As I'd mentioned previously, living in my own apartment allowed me the freedom to have autonomy to pick and choose what foods were in my house. It made things a lot easier.
Other things that began to get easier as well. My second year in OA, the annual convention was in Southern California and I decided that I wanted to attend and was going to fly down to Los Angeles for the first time in over a decade. I was nervous about the judgement that I anticipated I would receive from fellow air travelers as well as the general anxiety about being so exposed. The good news was that I was traveling with fellow "trudger's on the road to happy destiny" which made the experience easier to some extent. I could be as honest as I was able about my feelings and what support I needed to make this journey successful. I think about the myriad of things that I hadn't been able to do because of my size, and it takes someone who has either been there, or been close to someone who has, to understand what it's like to be able to get on a plane after that long.
As I made friends with member's of the fellowship from lots of other areas around the state, I had an opportunity to go to OA events in the Bay Area and South Bay. There is a great comfort in going to a meeting where there is a level of understanding and genuine love that seems to be so readily available in the rooms of any recovery meeting. I met a wide variety of people from every walk of life that shared the common problem but more importantly the common solution.
I also realized that although I was not in a work place that I would necessarily make a career, having freedom from constant food obsession made me a better employee and I found that I genuinely enjoyed being of service to the customers that I spoke with on the phones. I found that my skills and experience led me to be able to apply for promotions and become party of a working team.
During the weekends I found that I was packing in as much social activity as possible. I would go to the Bay Area and visit 4-6 friends in a weekend and while it was enjoyable, I think in retrospect I might have been trying to avoid sitting still and having down time. This would lead me to be exhausted and overwhelmed by the end of those weekends. As with many other areas in my life, program was teaching me about balance in food, work and play. At the suggestion of my sponsor at the time I had to institute a one day a weekend rest policy where I could do whatever I wanted to on one day of the weekend, but on the other day, I needed to be having a down day, at home just hanging out. I was not always easy to have a down day but I was learning the important lesson that rest was as important as work.
Clothes shopping also became an enjoyable hobby as I was losing weight. I was able to pick clothes not simply for utilitarian purposes of fit, but for how they looked and their style. When I reached the point where I'd lost 100 pounds I decided with my sponsor that I would light one of my "fat girl" dresses on fire. Before OA I was forced to wear loose fitting tent like dresses only available from catalogs because I was at the largest size available. When I asked my friends about possible dresses to burn, they all had strong opinions about which dress I was suppose to torch. I torched this turquoise plaid dress one day in a large metal kettle with 103 matches representing each pound of weight that I had lost. It felt like an amazing gift.
Emotionally as my life began to get larger and fuller, I'm not sure in retrospect if my heart was catching up with my brain and the size of my body. I began to feel like there was a Grand Canyon size gap between my brain where everything was logical and things made sense, and my heart where I was still a 400+lb woman who was getting treated differently and getting more attention because of the ever shrinking size of my body. After feeling invisible because of the size of my body, I was suddenly in a position where I wasn't sure if I was entirely comfortable getting attention because of my smaller body size.
As I think about that level of discomfort now, I realize that the real challenge was realizing that my whole identity and internal compass had become focused on my body size. I was either good or bad, worthy or not, happy or unhappy based on how my body weight made me feel on any given day. And As I've continued this journey, that hasn't changed for me. As I have approached my weight from a truly multi-disciplinary approach of Recovery, a Medical Weight Loss program, personal training and therapy, it's become even more apparent to me how much my weight and body size has been the thing that I have allowed to become the ONLY defining characteristic that I use for myself. Changing that is the an ongoing challenge that keeps me on my current path as much as getting to a normal body weight does. Getting to a place where I don't use my weight as the first thing to describe myself either in a positive or negative fashion is proving to be quite a journey.
Other things that began to get easier as well. My second year in OA, the annual convention was in Southern California and I decided that I wanted to attend and was going to fly down to Los Angeles for the first time in over a decade. I was nervous about the judgement that I anticipated I would receive from fellow air travelers as well as the general anxiety about being so exposed. The good news was that I was traveling with fellow "trudger's on the road to happy destiny" which made the experience easier to some extent. I could be as honest as I was able about my feelings and what support I needed to make this journey successful. I think about the myriad of things that I hadn't been able to do because of my size, and it takes someone who has either been there, or been close to someone who has, to understand what it's like to be able to get on a plane after that long.
As I made friends with member's of the fellowship from lots of other areas around the state, I had an opportunity to go to OA events in the Bay Area and South Bay. There is a great comfort in going to a meeting where there is a level of understanding and genuine love that seems to be so readily available in the rooms of any recovery meeting. I met a wide variety of people from every walk of life that shared the common problem but more importantly the common solution.
I also realized that although I was not in a work place that I would necessarily make a career, having freedom from constant food obsession made me a better employee and I found that I genuinely enjoyed being of service to the customers that I spoke with on the phones. I found that my skills and experience led me to be able to apply for promotions and become party of a working team.
During the weekends I found that I was packing in as much social activity as possible. I would go to the Bay Area and visit 4-6 friends in a weekend and while it was enjoyable, I think in retrospect I might have been trying to avoid sitting still and having down time. This would lead me to be exhausted and overwhelmed by the end of those weekends. As with many other areas in my life, program was teaching me about balance in food, work and play. At the suggestion of my sponsor at the time I had to institute a one day a weekend rest policy where I could do whatever I wanted to on one day of the weekend, but on the other day, I needed to be having a down day, at home just hanging out. I was not always easy to have a down day but I was learning the important lesson that rest was as important as work.
Clothes shopping also became an enjoyable hobby as I was losing weight. I was able to pick clothes not simply for utilitarian purposes of fit, but for how they looked and their style. When I reached the point where I'd lost 100 pounds I decided with my sponsor that I would light one of my "fat girl" dresses on fire. Before OA I was forced to wear loose fitting tent like dresses only available from catalogs because I was at the largest size available. When I asked my friends about possible dresses to burn, they all had strong opinions about which dress I was suppose to torch. I torched this turquoise plaid dress one day in a large metal kettle with 103 matches representing each pound of weight that I had lost. It felt like an amazing gift.
Emotionally as my life began to get larger and fuller, I'm not sure in retrospect if my heart was catching up with my brain and the size of my body. I began to feel like there was a Grand Canyon size gap between my brain where everything was logical and things made sense, and my heart where I was still a 400+lb woman who was getting treated differently and getting more attention because of the ever shrinking size of my body. After feeling invisible because of the size of my body, I was suddenly in a position where I wasn't sure if I was entirely comfortable getting attention because of my smaller body size.
As I think about that level of discomfort now, I realize that the real challenge was realizing that my whole identity and internal compass had become focused on my body size. I was either good or bad, worthy or not, happy or unhappy based on how my body weight made me feel on any given day. And As I've continued this journey, that hasn't changed for me. As I have approached my weight from a truly multi-disciplinary approach of Recovery, a Medical Weight Loss program, personal training and therapy, it's become even more apparent to me how much my weight and body size has been the thing that I have allowed to become the ONLY defining characteristic that I use for myself. Changing that is the an ongoing challenge that keeps me on my current path as much as getting to a normal body weight does. Getting to a place where I don't use my weight as the first thing to describe myself either in a positive or negative fashion is proving to be quite a journey.
Saturday, June 9, 2012
The Journey of a Thousand Miles Begins With Twelve Steps......
Well, now that we've covered the oh so festive topics of my lack of love life and shame, I figure it is time I got back on the horse chronologically speaking and tell you about my entering OA and what happened on my journey of obesity.
I think I had mentioned in a previous post, that coming into OA was rather mind blowing. Coming from a home where, "I would be happy when I'm thin.." was a frequently repeated mantra; seeing people joyfully living their lives with humor, grace and open hearts was revolutionary. I felt at home immediately and also knew that most likely, this was a place I would still be in 30-50-100 years. Because I'd entered OA with a friend, she and I went to 3-5 meetings a week consistently for the first 2 months of going to OA. We'd frequently consume coffee before or after a meeting and I can easily say that the GDP of the local Starbuck's may have actually hinged on our patronage. But it was so great to have someone to decompress with before or after the meeting. Being COMPLETELY new to Twelve Step, some things felt intuitive and others felt like I'd been transported to another planet.
One of the other interesting things that occurred was that for the first time in my life, I'd intentionally hid something from my mom. I was 25 when I started OA and I was living with my parents. In retrospect I have realized that the reason my mom and I were at each other's throats so much is because we are the same person, in good AND bad ways. It was like seeing yourself in a mirror and NOT liking what you saw. And my mom had a tendency to be privy to a confidence that I would have shared with her, and then she'd decide to use it as ammunition later. It's sort of like being shot with a gun after you supplied the bullets. NOT FUN. And there was something inside me that realized that even from the very beginning, OAwas sacred, and I was worried enough that she'd try to take it away that I didn't tell her or my dad about it. For a long time, they just thought I was going out to coffee with a new friend A LOT!!!!!
After being stuck living at my parent's house at the age of 25, being driven crazy by my mom, and being frustrated at working at the non-profit I was at, UNABLE to get full time employment, the straw on THIS camel's back finally broke. I started first of all, looking for a full time job that would provide enough money for me to do a "flight out of Egypt aka Fair Oaks". Like so many other obese people, I assumed my weight would be a serious detriment to employment and so I absolutely low balled myself, my intelligence and experience in my job search. It wasn't until a few years later that I learned about the concept of under earning and knew that I was a chronic under earner. But I ended up applying for a job at a large health insurance company in their customer service call center that was full time and close to my home. I was also in a position where I needed to buy a new car because I was at a weight where I'd literally outgrown my first car, a 1987 Chevy Nova. The seat wouldn't go back far enough to allow me to comfortably drive anymore. Trust me when I say that was NOT one of the happier realizations in my life at the time.
So I entered OA in February 2000, started my new job in April of that year, got a new car in May, and moved into my first apartment that July. To say that being in the Program was helping with my willingness to spread my wing would be an understatement. That being said, it turned out that the apartment that I ended up in was TWO stoplights away from my parents home, so I was taking the whole "independence" thing rather slowly. But living in my own apartment was a great experience and really helpful in my being able to regulate the foods that were in my living space.
As far as the actual eating of food and being in OA, that was literally the thing that was least focused on. No one in OA tells another member what to eat, when or how. It's not like Weight Watchers or Jenny Craig. Everyone has different foods that they eat compulsively and one of the helpful exercises that was suggested to me was to write down RED, YELLOW and GREEN light foods. I think you're smart enough to figure out what that means. Suffice to say, I was definitely at the point where I was clear that Wheat Thins were the chemical equivalent of heroin. You don't get to be 400lbs without some qualified binge foods in your repertoire. I had my list, and with the help of my sponsor I was able to develop a plan of eating that I could adhere to one day at a time for quite a while. As I heard so many times, I had three meals a day with life in between. The weight came off about 10lbs a week for the first 9 months I was in OA.
As I began to start talking about the underlying factors that contributed to my being a compulsive overeater, I began to open up to my friends who had been so lovingly patient with me on the journey thus far. Several friends remarked to me how genuinely happier I seemed, and that they were glad that I was FINALLY willing to talk about the not so small elephant in the living room. I was able to eat without guilt and secrecy, like I'd done so often in the past. I honestly felt a freedom and happiness that I'd not felt before. Life got bigger and fuller as my body began to get smaller.
In my next post I'll talk about what life was like as I was getting smaller and some of the interesting and funny things that can happen when your body changes quicker than your mind.
I think I had mentioned in a previous post, that coming into OA was rather mind blowing. Coming from a home where, "I would be happy when I'm thin.." was a frequently repeated mantra; seeing people joyfully living their lives with humor, grace and open hearts was revolutionary. I felt at home immediately and also knew that most likely, this was a place I would still be in 30-50-100 years. Because I'd entered OA with a friend, she and I went to 3-5 meetings a week consistently for the first 2 months of going to OA. We'd frequently consume coffee before or after a meeting and I can easily say that the GDP of the local Starbuck's may have actually hinged on our patronage. But it was so great to have someone to decompress with before or after the meeting. Being COMPLETELY new to Twelve Step, some things felt intuitive and others felt like I'd been transported to another planet.
One of the other interesting things that occurred was that for the first time in my life, I'd intentionally hid something from my mom. I was 25 when I started OA and I was living with my parents. In retrospect I have realized that the reason my mom and I were at each other's throats so much is because we are the same person, in good AND bad ways. It was like seeing yourself in a mirror and NOT liking what you saw. And my mom had a tendency to be privy to a confidence that I would have shared with her, and then she'd decide to use it as ammunition later. It's sort of like being shot with a gun after you supplied the bullets. NOT FUN. And there was something inside me that realized that even from the very beginning, OAwas sacred, and I was worried enough that she'd try to take it away that I didn't tell her or my dad about it. For a long time, they just thought I was going out to coffee with a new friend A LOT!!!!!
After being stuck living at my parent's house at the age of 25, being driven crazy by my mom, and being frustrated at working at the non-profit I was at, UNABLE to get full time employment, the straw on THIS camel's back finally broke. I started first of all, looking for a full time job that would provide enough money for me to do a "flight out of Egypt aka Fair Oaks". Like so many other obese people, I assumed my weight would be a serious detriment to employment and so I absolutely low balled myself, my intelligence and experience in my job search. It wasn't until a few years later that I learned about the concept of under earning and knew that I was a chronic under earner. But I ended up applying for a job at a large health insurance company in their customer service call center that was full time and close to my home. I was also in a position where I needed to buy a new car because I was at a weight where I'd literally outgrown my first car, a 1987 Chevy Nova. The seat wouldn't go back far enough to allow me to comfortably drive anymore. Trust me when I say that was NOT one of the happier realizations in my life at the time.
So I entered OA in February 2000, started my new job in April of that year, got a new car in May, and moved into my first apartment that July. To say that being in the Program was helping with my willingness to spread my wing would be an understatement. That being said, it turned out that the apartment that I ended up in was TWO stoplights away from my parents home, so I was taking the whole "independence" thing rather slowly. But living in my own apartment was a great experience and really helpful in my being able to regulate the foods that were in my living space.
As far as the actual eating of food and being in OA, that was literally the thing that was least focused on. No one in OA tells another member what to eat, when or how. It's not like Weight Watchers or Jenny Craig. Everyone has different foods that they eat compulsively and one of the helpful exercises that was suggested to me was to write down RED, YELLOW and GREEN light foods. I think you're smart enough to figure out what that means. Suffice to say, I was definitely at the point where I was clear that Wheat Thins were the chemical equivalent of heroin. You don't get to be 400lbs without some qualified binge foods in your repertoire. I had my list, and with the help of my sponsor I was able to develop a plan of eating that I could adhere to one day at a time for quite a while. As I heard so many times, I had three meals a day with life in between. The weight came off about 10lbs a week for the first 9 months I was in OA.
As I began to start talking about the underlying factors that contributed to my being a compulsive overeater, I began to open up to my friends who had been so lovingly patient with me on the journey thus far. Several friends remarked to me how genuinely happier I seemed, and that they were glad that I was FINALLY willing to talk about the not so small elephant in the living room. I was able to eat without guilt and secrecy, like I'd done so often in the past. I honestly felt a freedom and happiness that I'd not felt before. Life got bigger and fuller as my body began to get smaller.
In my next post I'll talk about what life was like as I was getting smaller and some of the interesting and funny things that can happen when your body changes quicker than your mind.
Wednesday, June 6, 2012
Fool me Twice, Shame on ME.....
I thought I would write about what's up for me in my current journey of recovery, rather than continuing with my chronological history of growing up as an obese adolescent and young adult. While I will certainly continue to tell my specific story, I feel like this is a topic that is just "UP" for me, and that topic is the issue of shame as it relates to overweight and obese persons. If you've ever dealt with a more than 5-10 pound weight gain, you may have experienced shame about your body, its size or your inability to control what goes into your mouth.
I certainly experienced my fair share of shame regarding my weight growing up and even until just recently. There is something so acutely painful about being constantly aware of the looks that you are bound to get from people. While a child looking at someone of size with inquisitiveness is understandable, the teenagers and adults who qauk and apparently don't know any better....are a frequent uncomfortable that the way someone looks is often the first and presumably best way to judge someones worth. When my godson was 5 years old (he's 15 years old, which can only mean one thing, I'M OLD!) he walked up to me and very honestly and sweetly asked me, "Kappy (my nickname) why are you so fat?" Because I loved this little child from the day he was born, I wasn't the least bit offended by his question. I also didn't mind the question because I was doing something about my weight at the time. I answered him, "Well, I'm overweight because I eat too much, but I'm doing something about it now and I'm getting smaller." With that response, he walked away and continued his plan for action figure world domination. It was simple and no fuss.
That's not been my experience for the most part however. As I mentioned in previous posts, there was some issues of me being teased in my grade school, along with my experience of going to public school during summer session and getting an extreme case of what might be termed bullying from boys who were in an art class with me. It literally left me with this feeling like I was a lower life form who didn't deserve to be part of most things, including the typical social activities of my age. What is it about kids that makes them so innately cruel at certain ages? I began to have such a level of self consciousness and self-loathing because of my weight that it wasn't even something of which I was aware. But I also worked very hard to give the impression that things didn't bother me. Which, if you've ever tried to perfect that little acting trick, is not so easy. But I tried. And I think, in the end isolation was the best way to protect myself from the people who mirrored my internal shame of being a morbidly obese person.
I remember even today, an acutely vivid experience of going to the Tower Cafe downtown for coffee and perhaps lunch with some of my girlfriends while in high school. I was still not completely secure with my place in this social circle, and so I was trying very hard to make people like me and fit in. We were sitting at a table with those GOD AWFUL resin chairs that have become so popular. They were not the more substantial sturdier type, but ones that were light and plastic and not very sizable. As we sat their enjoying our afternoon all of a sudden the legs of the chair started to slide out from under me because of my weight. The first time it happened, my pulse immediately shot through the roof and the mental panic dialogue went into overdrive. "Oh my God, what will happen if this chair collapses and I fall? I will absolutely die of embarrassment." This continued to intermitently happen for the next 30 to 45 minutes until the chair was about 2 inches lower than it was to begin with and I was so afraid to move a muscle in case the chair did finally collapse. But here's the important part of this story, do you think, in the time from the beginning of the chair sliding, that I felt I even deserved to ask people for help, or to let them know that there was a problem? NO! Because it was related to my weight, and the idea in my head that, "I'm a big fat slob," I just sat there in fear, dread and panic. When the time came for us to leave, I had to finally give up the big secret to my friends, and they were very sympathetic and understanding and helped me stand up well enough so I could get out of the chair safely. But it was just another example of the types of experiences that led me to have just a blood curdling amount of shame that the size of my body had placed me in a situation to be publicly humiliated.
Here is the word shame as defined by Webster's dictionary; shame, noun, A painful emotion caused by consciousness of guilt, shortcoming or impropriety. That seems like an acutely true definition. And when you're 100 lbs or more overweight, it begins to be difficult to decipher whether the shame is externally or internally centered. But for someone like me, who had been 100lbs overweight I believe since I was 12 or 13 years old, I think while some of the ridicule was from external sources, I took every coin of that negativity and deposited it into my internal shame "piggy bank". And just like any bank deposit, those deposits sat in the account and earned interest over time; so that the amount of shame at the time of withdrawal was larger than the original amount I had deposited. And so it was in my case.
There was another case where I was at the home of my best friend and I tripped and fell on a carpet while walking through the living room. I remember so vividly just really wishing that while falling I'd impaled myself on something sharp so I could have just died right on the spot. I ended up sliding 15-20 feet on my rear end, and then needing 4-5 people helping me get up by putting a rubber backed bathroom rug under my tush and then using that to lift me up. Because my hip was preventing me from begin able to get to my hands and knees, I need that level of assistance. I need it even today. When I think about what I want my life to be like once I've had my knee replacement surgery, one of the first things that I think about is the ability to get myself up on my own, if and when I fall. When I fall now, it requires what is called a Community Call to the local fire house. They show up at my house without the sirens blaring, and use 3-4 grown men to help me get up safely. It is a pride swallowing experience every time it's had to happen. I've always wanted to hang out with a group of good looking firemen, but trust me when I say that's not the picture I have in my mind when it comes to me and the good looking men in uniform.
So I'd been living with this shame and self consciousness even as I had begun my recovery in OA. One of the things having to do with shame about weight is that it made me believe that I didn't deserve help for my increasingly legitimate health issues. It ingrained a level of stubbornness that seemed irrational to people that cared about me. In retrospect they were right.
But a funny thing happened about a year ago. My mom had been in increasingly poor health and went into the hospital for a vein resection that was a result of complications of type II diabetes. While the surgery was a complete success, she had a seizure approximately 5 days after surgery which resulted in her being in the ICU at Sutter Memorial for 7 1/2 weeks before she succumbed to pneumonia and we were forced to make the decision to take her off the ventilator. It was a heartbreaking time for our family as my mom was the self anointed leader of the family pack. Because of the gift of recovery, I had cleaned up the wreckage of our relationship several years earlier and was just able to love and spend time with her. The day before she died I painted her toenails while she was in a coma in the ICU. I was incredibly sad but had nothing to say but "I love you". I don't discount that gift at all. After watching her pass away, I knew that I had to do something about my weight and when I began to think about the path that lay ahead of me, there was a remarkable change in my thought process. The shame was gone. It was as if my mother had taken the shame with her on her journey to heaven. That was the most helpful way to look at the completely different feeling I was having about myself, my size and my weight.
Suddenly, my weight was just a number on a scale and not a measure of my worth. As I started making arrangements, I was able to return to OA and begin participating in a medical weight loss program through a local hospital, and even start the process of incorporating exercise into my life. I was able to talk honestly and openly about my weight, where I was at the moment, where I was going and where I needed to be to qualify for my knee replacement surgery. I can't emphasize the magical feeling of saying to a handsome gentleman working at the health club, that while I did in fact weigh 400lbs at the time, I'd already lost 50lbs and I needed to get to 235 lbs in order to qualify for my surgery. Each time I experienced being able to talk about my size without internal judgement, dialogue or criticism, I was convinced that my brain had been abducted and examined by aliens. I had never before had a break in those comments and the perpetual ticker tape of negativity running through my head about myself and my weight and what that meant about me as a person. The freedom that has given me is truly one of the most amazing things I've experienced. And since I didn't "THINK" my way into it happening, I'm aware that even though I may try, I'm not able to THINK my way into keeping this amazing mindset that's enabling me to make progress towards my health.
So with all that said, here's what I know for today: The size of my body is not the most important part of who I am today. The size of my body does not mean I'm lazy, stupid, incompetent or fundamentally flawed. It doesn't mean that I'm a bad person or unworthy of love and respect from people, including men (a somewhat shaky idea). Being overweight is NOT a moral issue. Despite every effort of the media and society at large to demonize overweight people and shame them into suddenly putting down the food they've been using as comfort; being overweight is for many people a sign of an addiction. For me, my relationship with food is no different that the alcoholic, drug addict, compulsive gambler, or sex addict. I have so many times desperately wanted to be able to put the food down, and was unable to on my own.
Shame is such a common part of the culture of obesity right now. And I know for me that being able to even envision myself as a normal sized person existing in society became so much easier when the shame I'd carried around like a Nepalese Sherpa for the past 20 years was lifted from me. I pray, if you're also struggling with shame; about your body size, or any other issue in your life, that you reach out to your support group and find a way to put that shame down. While the seeds of shame may be external, we plant those seeds, water and tend them and prune the foliage to keep that shame alive. Get out the weed whacker and do some emotional gardening and see how great your view can be. I know for me it's created a whole possibility of my life truly coming up roses.
I certainly experienced my fair share of shame regarding my weight growing up and even until just recently. There is something so acutely painful about being constantly aware of the looks that you are bound to get from people. While a child looking at someone of size with inquisitiveness is understandable, the teenagers and adults who qauk and apparently don't know any better....are a frequent uncomfortable that the way someone looks is often the first and presumably best way to judge someones worth. When my godson was 5 years old (he's 15 years old, which can only mean one thing, I'M OLD!) he walked up to me and very honestly and sweetly asked me, "Kappy (my nickname) why are you so fat?" Because I loved this little child from the day he was born, I wasn't the least bit offended by his question. I also didn't mind the question because I was doing something about my weight at the time. I answered him, "Well, I'm overweight because I eat too much, but I'm doing something about it now and I'm getting smaller." With that response, he walked away and continued his plan for action figure world domination. It was simple and no fuss.
That's not been my experience for the most part however. As I mentioned in previous posts, there was some issues of me being teased in my grade school, along with my experience of going to public school during summer session and getting an extreme case of what might be termed bullying from boys who were in an art class with me. It literally left me with this feeling like I was a lower life form who didn't deserve to be part of most things, including the typical social activities of my age. What is it about kids that makes them so innately cruel at certain ages? I began to have such a level of self consciousness and self-loathing because of my weight that it wasn't even something of which I was aware. But I also worked very hard to give the impression that things didn't bother me. Which, if you've ever tried to perfect that little acting trick, is not so easy. But I tried. And I think, in the end isolation was the best way to protect myself from the people who mirrored my internal shame of being a morbidly obese person.
I remember even today, an acutely vivid experience of going to the Tower Cafe downtown for coffee and perhaps lunch with some of my girlfriends while in high school. I was still not completely secure with my place in this social circle, and so I was trying very hard to make people like me and fit in. We were sitting at a table with those GOD AWFUL resin chairs that have become so popular. They were not the more substantial sturdier type, but ones that were light and plastic and not very sizable. As we sat their enjoying our afternoon all of a sudden the legs of the chair started to slide out from under me because of my weight. The first time it happened, my pulse immediately shot through the roof and the mental panic dialogue went into overdrive. "Oh my God, what will happen if this chair collapses and I fall? I will absolutely die of embarrassment." This continued to intermitently happen for the next 30 to 45 minutes until the chair was about 2 inches lower than it was to begin with and I was so afraid to move a muscle in case the chair did finally collapse. But here's the important part of this story, do you think, in the time from the beginning of the chair sliding, that I felt I even deserved to ask people for help, or to let them know that there was a problem? NO! Because it was related to my weight, and the idea in my head that, "I'm a big fat slob," I just sat there in fear, dread and panic. When the time came for us to leave, I had to finally give up the big secret to my friends, and they were very sympathetic and understanding and helped me stand up well enough so I could get out of the chair safely. But it was just another example of the types of experiences that led me to have just a blood curdling amount of shame that the size of my body had placed me in a situation to be publicly humiliated.
Here is the word shame as defined by Webster's dictionary; shame, noun, A painful emotion caused by consciousness of guilt, shortcoming or impropriety. That seems like an acutely true definition. And when you're 100 lbs or more overweight, it begins to be difficult to decipher whether the shame is externally or internally centered. But for someone like me, who had been 100lbs overweight I believe since I was 12 or 13 years old, I think while some of the ridicule was from external sources, I took every coin of that negativity and deposited it into my internal shame "piggy bank". And just like any bank deposit, those deposits sat in the account and earned interest over time; so that the amount of shame at the time of withdrawal was larger than the original amount I had deposited. And so it was in my case.
There was another case where I was at the home of my best friend and I tripped and fell on a carpet while walking through the living room. I remember so vividly just really wishing that while falling I'd impaled myself on something sharp so I could have just died right on the spot. I ended up sliding 15-20 feet on my rear end, and then needing 4-5 people helping me get up by putting a rubber backed bathroom rug under my tush and then using that to lift me up. Because my hip was preventing me from begin able to get to my hands and knees, I need that level of assistance. I need it even today. When I think about what I want my life to be like once I've had my knee replacement surgery, one of the first things that I think about is the ability to get myself up on my own, if and when I fall. When I fall now, it requires what is called a Community Call to the local fire house. They show up at my house without the sirens blaring, and use 3-4 grown men to help me get up safely. It is a pride swallowing experience every time it's had to happen. I've always wanted to hang out with a group of good looking firemen, but trust me when I say that's not the picture I have in my mind when it comes to me and the good looking men in uniform.
So I'd been living with this shame and self consciousness even as I had begun my recovery in OA. One of the things having to do with shame about weight is that it made me believe that I didn't deserve help for my increasingly legitimate health issues. It ingrained a level of stubbornness that seemed irrational to people that cared about me. In retrospect they were right.
But a funny thing happened about a year ago. My mom had been in increasingly poor health and went into the hospital for a vein resection that was a result of complications of type II diabetes. While the surgery was a complete success, she had a seizure approximately 5 days after surgery which resulted in her being in the ICU at Sutter Memorial for 7 1/2 weeks before she succumbed to pneumonia and we were forced to make the decision to take her off the ventilator. It was a heartbreaking time for our family as my mom was the self anointed leader of the family pack. Because of the gift of recovery, I had cleaned up the wreckage of our relationship several years earlier and was just able to love and spend time with her. The day before she died I painted her toenails while she was in a coma in the ICU. I was incredibly sad but had nothing to say but "I love you". I don't discount that gift at all. After watching her pass away, I knew that I had to do something about my weight and when I began to think about the path that lay ahead of me, there was a remarkable change in my thought process. The shame was gone. It was as if my mother had taken the shame with her on her journey to heaven. That was the most helpful way to look at the completely different feeling I was having about myself, my size and my weight.
Suddenly, my weight was just a number on a scale and not a measure of my worth. As I started making arrangements, I was able to return to OA and begin participating in a medical weight loss program through a local hospital, and even start the process of incorporating exercise into my life. I was able to talk honestly and openly about my weight, where I was at the moment, where I was going and where I needed to be to qualify for my knee replacement surgery. I can't emphasize the magical feeling of saying to a handsome gentleman working at the health club, that while I did in fact weigh 400lbs at the time, I'd already lost 50lbs and I needed to get to 235 lbs in order to qualify for my surgery. Each time I experienced being able to talk about my size without internal judgement, dialogue or criticism, I was convinced that my brain had been abducted and examined by aliens. I had never before had a break in those comments and the perpetual ticker tape of negativity running through my head about myself and my weight and what that meant about me as a person. The freedom that has given me is truly one of the most amazing things I've experienced. And since I didn't "THINK" my way into it happening, I'm aware that even though I may try, I'm not able to THINK my way into keeping this amazing mindset that's enabling me to make progress towards my health.
So with all that said, here's what I know for today: The size of my body is not the most important part of who I am today. The size of my body does not mean I'm lazy, stupid, incompetent or fundamentally flawed. It doesn't mean that I'm a bad person or unworthy of love and respect from people, including men (a somewhat shaky idea). Being overweight is NOT a moral issue. Despite every effort of the media and society at large to demonize overweight people and shame them into suddenly putting down the food they've been using as comfort; being overweight is for many people a sign of an addiction. For me, my relationship with food is no different that the alcoholic, drug addict, compulsive gambler, or sex addict. I have so many times desperately wanted to be able to put the food down, and was unable to on my own.
Shame is such a common part of the culture of obesity right now. And I know for me that being able to even envision myself as a normal sized person existing in society became so much easier when the shame I'd carried around like a Nepalese Sherpa for the past 20 years was lifted from me. I pray, if you're also struggling with shame; about your body size, or any other issue in your life, that you reach out to your support group and find a way to put that shame down. While the seeds of shame may be external, we plant those seeds, water and tend them and prune the foliage to keep that shame alive. Get out the weed whacker and do some emotional gardening and see how great your view can be. I know for me it's created a whole possibility of my life truly coming up roses.
Monday, June 4, 2012
Life is NOT a Harlequin Romance Novel.....
I heard someone say once that for compulsive overeaters, romance novels and romantic movies are a huge set up because it gives you the impression that despite all sorts of manufactured conflicts and drama, everyone ends up happy and in love and with the person that they are hopelessly in love with. The older and (hopefully) more mature I become, I am coming to believe that idea more and more. There have been few things that were a greater source of heart ache for me than the world of romantic relationships. Growing up as a morbidly obese young woman, my self image prevented me from entering into the world of teenage or young adult romantic relationships. My physical presence was such a deterrent that not only did I not do any practical footwork towards having a relationship, I just really and truly believed that my weight meant that I didn't even DESERVE to have someone find me attractive and want to date me. When I have expressed this thought, people have gotten on my case for being overly self deprecating. And I can understand where they're coming from. But to me, in my head and even more so, in my gut, it was just an ORGANICALLY TRUE thought. The sun rises in the east, sets in the west, and no man will love me because of my weight. I think part of that comes from the mantra learned at home, "I'll be happy when I'm thin...". But it was just something that I believed at the point when boys and girls went from cootie infested pains in the tush to something more around the junior high/high school age.
This line of thinking had two effects. One of them was that I did a great deal of vicarious living through the romantic relationships of my girl friends. Because I went to an all girls high school, I naturally had more female friends than male friends and so I had ample opportunity to hear about all of the sweet and romantic relationships that were blossoming as we grew into young adults. My closest friend at the time was also open and willing for me to meet her boyfriends and so I had several experiences of meeting guys and feeling involved and yet very much being "the third wheel". I could spend time with these boyfriends of friends because they were safe, and not available to me so I could relax a bit around them. I could have the "experience" of dating without the anxiety and fear of rejection that naturally comes with these types of things. Because I had such an overblown fear of rejection from boys/men and just felt like I would absolutely DIE of pain from the rejection if I actually put myself out there for anyone, vicariously living through my friends was safe.
The second effect that occurred was that I had what might diplomatically be called an overactive fantasy life. If I had a friendship with an unattached person I would immediately begin constructing our wedding and Pottery Barn perfect life in my head. I can't tell you how many times I've been married in my own mind. :) But it wasn't enough to fantasize about unattached people, they had to be someone who also had a rather significant flaw that made them unavailable to me, and therefore safe. I've had a long standing crush on a friend of mine who was a flamboyantly gay hair dresser. I had a completely obsessive crush on someone who made it quite clear to me that he preferred his girls to look like girls from your average rock and roll videos, (blonde, attractive and perhaps surgically enhanced in the cleavage area). It almost seemed like I wouldn't go obsessive about a guy unless he was totally unavailable to me. Reality as many have discovered, was often a bit more disappointing than the John Hugh's movie going through my mind.
I took a friend to Junior Prom who was in the beginning stages of a romance with his high school sweetheart and subsequently married a girl who was my best friend growing up. That was the only "boy-girl" dance I went to during high school save for going to sophomore homecoming that I went to with a friend from a Youth Group camp that I'd gone to the prior summer. While it's always good going to events with friends, I wasn't seasoned enough to not allow my head to go into some of the more typical crushes that are common in the minds of high school girls.
My senior year of high school I had what would come closest to being a high school romance. We were friends who were in the same youth group and we started talking as friends and began to spend a great deal of time together hanging out and also talking on the phone. I certainly liked him and would have loved him to be my boyfriend but neither of us were willing to express more than friendship feelings at the time. It was a good experience but again, reality was disappointing compared to what I wanted to happen. But at this point, I was in a position where I was just accepting that I was not going to have a boyfriend, and that I might NEVER have one. There are few things more depressing than being resigned to ANYTHING at the age of 17 years old.
I might as well have been in a nunnery during college. And in the immortal words of Forrest Gump, "that's all I have to say about that." It wasn't until I had been in OA for a little bit over a year that I had my first real stab at a relationship. For the uninitiated, there is a concept that when you pick up an addiction, you stop growing emotionally until you stop using your drug of choice. Since I'd been a compulsive overeater since I was 11 or 12 years old, although I was 25 years old physically, I felt like I was 13 or 14 years old emotionally. ON A GOOD DAY. At a retreat I started chatting with another young man who was also there and we struck up a friendship in the three short days of the event and it was the beginning of a very sweet experience for me. He lived in the Bay Area and I in Sacramento, so we talked a great deal on the phone. Since he was also in recovery it made talking a great deal easier. Being in recovery is sometimes like being in the military, there is a "lingo" and acronyms and it helps greatly if the person you're interested in has the decoder ring. I was asked to come share my story at his home meeting and so I went to speak and there was something freeing about him hearing all the blood and guts of my eating and food addiction past. It got a lot of anxiety right out of the way.
After talking on the phone and seeing each other in group settings there was an opportunity for us to have what was considered the first one-on-one date. The night before we were talking on the telephone late at night (You know when you're getting to know a potential romantic interest and you can talk on the phone for hours at a time and then you look up and it's 2am in the morning?) and he finally brought up the issue of what I like to endearingly call the, "I like-you-like you" conversation. He was sweetly honest in saying that he didn't just think of me as a friend and wanted to actually have a dating relationship. And while I was sort of thinking that's the direction we were headed, until it was said expressly, I wasn't about to put my neck on the chopping block and risk the dreaded rejection that I was always sure was just around the corner. I immediately became a completely vulnerable 13 year old in my mind and heart. It felt like I had been rubbed over head to toe in sandpaper. Even though he wasn't even in town yet, I felt very raw and exposed. We had several more dates and my heart, which I had been so viscously protecting since getting teased by the boys in my grade school class at St. Mel's, hurt and hurt bad. Even though this should have been one of the happiest times for me, I was anxious, upset and extremely emotional. I discovered during that experience that there was one thing I feared more that rejection. To me at the time, not being rejected was infinitely more scary than being turned down.
In the end, after about 6-8 weeks of dating, I stepped away for reasons that I'm not real clear about in retrospect. This man was not someone I was likely to end up spending the rest of my life with but at the stage I was at, that was hardly the goal. I needed practice in talking and LISTENING and learning how to have a romantic relationship. I regret stepping away as early as I did in the process, but I conducted myself with honesty and consideration which made the experience positive in the end. I was also struggling with a completely obsessive crush on what my friends and I called a "bad monkey". A guy who was attractive to me more because of what was wrong with him that who he was genuinely as a person. I think I chose the safety of a mental private obsession rather than the scary vulnerable reality of someone who was saying to me in express terms, "I like you just as you are RIGHT NOW". But I learned a lot through my fledgling dating experience. With the most important thing being that despite WHATEVER prevailing thoughts I might have about myself or body image, I was likable just as I was.
I've always thought that there's a rather large chasm between an idea being true in my mind and my heart. Nowhere is that more pronounced than when it comes to my own thoughts of being an attractive desirable woman. I have several friends of size who have vibrant and full dating lives, and one who is married to a really truly great guy. They don't let their size hinder them in any way, but specifically in the arena of romance. I truly envy their innate belief in themselves. And when I try to imagine myself thinking that way, it's easier to imagine myself walking on Mars in the next 6 months. Intellectually I SHOULD believe that I am more than the size of my body, that there is a man out there who will find me interesting and funny, attractive and worth being with. I also INTELLECTUALLY know that pressing the call button for an elevator 15 times after the button gets lit up doesn't make the elevator get there any faster. But I press the button anyway.
And so as I continue on this journey towards physical, emotional and spiritual health I know that I am going to have to change the way I view myself in the world of romance. Because I know (intellectually I suspect) that the only person keeping me out of the dating game is the one staring back at me in the bathroom mirror every morning when I'm brushing my teeth. I want to be in a place where I don't judge someone based solely on their appearance anymore than I would want to be judged. I want to be willing to set down the fantasy life and pick up a REAL life, and I want to be able to suit up and show up to this area of life truly feeling like one among many. NO better but NO worse. My experience of being in recovery has shown me that I am just as powerless over the way I think about romantic relationships as I am over the idea that food will fix my problems. And the good news is that the solution therefore, is the same. I admit I'm powerless over the issue and I ask a power greater than myself to change my heart, so that the chasm between my heart and mind can shrink. And sometimes that power greater than me is the support of friends, who truly know me well enough to call me on my faulty thinking. Sometimes that power is my therapist who lays out my thinking in a logical progression so I'm able to see that if I had a friend who thought about themselves the way I think about myself, I'd treat them with infinite kindness, love and affirmation. Once again, I've got a ways to travel on this issue, but I'm getting started on the journey.
This line of thinking had two effects. One of them was that I did a great deal of vicarious living through the romantic relationships of my girl friends. Because I went to an all girls high school, I naturally had more female friends than male friends and so I had ample opportunity to hear about all of the sweet and romantic relationships that were blossoming as we grew into young adults. My closest friend at the time was also open and willing for me to meet her boyfriends and so I had several experiences of meeting guys and feeling involved and yet very much being "the third wheel". I could spend time with these boyfriends of friends because they were safe, and not available to me so I could relax a bit around them. I could have the "experience" of dating without the anxiety and fear of rejection that naturally comes with these types of things. Because I had such an overblown fear of rejection from boys/men and just felt like I would absolutely DIE of pain from the rejection if I actually put myself out there for anyone, vicariously living through my friends was safe.
The second effect that occurred was that I had what might diplomatically be called an overactive fantasy life. If I had a friendship with an unattached person I would immediately begin constructing our wedding and Pottery Barn perfect life in my head. I can't tell you how many times I've been married in my own mind. :) But it wasn't enough to fantasize about unattached people, they had to be someone who also had a rather significant flaw that made them unavailable to me, and therefore safe. I've had a long standing crush on a friend of mine who was a flamboyantly gay hair dresser. I had a completely obsessive crush on someone who made it quite clear to me that he preferred his girls to look like girls from your average rock and roll videos, (blonde, attractive and perhaps surgically enhanced in the cleavage area). It almost seemed like I wouldn't go obsessive about a guy unless he was totally unavailable to me. Reality as many have discovered, was often a bit more disappointing than the John Hugh's movie going through my mind.
I took a friend to Junior Prom who was in the beginning stages of a romance with his high school sweetheart and subsequently married a girl who was my best friend growing up. That was the only "boy-girl" dance I went to during high school save for going to sophomore homecoming that I went to with a friend from a Youth Group camp that I'd gone to the prior summer. While it's always good going to events with friends, I wasn't seasoned enough to not allow my head to go into some of the more typical crushes that are common in the minds of high school girls.
My senior year of high school I had what would come closest to being a high school romance. We were friends who were in the same youth group and we started talking as friends and began to spend a great deal of time together hanging out and also talking on the phone. I certainly liked him and would have loved him to be my boyfriend but neither of us were willing to express more than friendship feelings at the time. It was a good experience but again, reality was disappointing compared to what I wanted to happen. But at this point, I was in a position where I was just accepting that I was not going to have a boyfriend, and that I might NEVER have one. There are few things more depressing than being resigned to ANYTHING at the age of 17 years old.
I might as well have been in a nunnery during college. And in the immortal words of Forrest Gump, "that's all I have to say about that." It wasn't until I had been in OA for a little bit over a year that I had my first real stab at a relationship. For the uninitiated, there is a concept that when you pick up an addiction, you stop growing emotionally until you stop using your drug of choice. Since I'd been a compulsive overeater since I was 11 or 12 years old, although I was 25 years old physically, I felt like I was 13 or 14 years old emotionally. ON A GOOD DAY. At a retreat I started chatting with another young man who was also there and we struck up a friendship in the three short days of the event and it was the beginning of a very sweet experience for me. He lived in the Bay Area and I in Sacramento, so we talked a great deal on the phone. Since he was also in recovery it made talking a great deal easier. Being in recovery is sometimes like being in the military, there is a "lingo" and acronyms and it helps greatly if the person you're interested in has the decoder ring. I was asked to come share my story at his home meeting and so I went to speak and there was something freeing about him hearing all the blood and guts of my eating and food addiction past. It got a lot of anxiety right out of the way.
After talking on the phone and seeing each other in group settings there was an opportunity for us to have what was considered the first one-on-one date. The night before we were talking on the telephone late at night (You know when you're getting to know a potential romantic interest and you can talk on the phone for hours at a time and then you look up and it's 2am in the morning?) and he finally brought up the issue of what I like to endearingly call the, "I like-you-like you" conversation. He was sweetly honest in saying that he didn't just think of me as a friend and wanted to actually have a dating relationship. And while I was sort of thinking that's the direction we were headed, until it was said expressly, I wasn't about to put my neck on the chopping block and risk the dreaded rejection that I was always sure was just around the corner. I immediately became a completely vulnerable 13 year old in my mind and heart. It felt like I had been rubbed over head to toe in sandpaper. Even though he wasn't even in town yet, I felt very raw and exposed. We had several more dates and my heart, which I had been so viscously protecting since getting teased by the boys in my grade school class at St. Mel's, hurt and hurt bad. Even though this should have been one of the happiest times for me, I was anxious, upset and extremely emotional. I discovered during that experience that there was one thing I feared more that rejection. To me at the time, not being rejected was infinitely more scary than being turned down.
In the end, after about 6-8 weeks of dating, I stepped away for reasons that I'm not real clear about in retrospect. This man was not someone I was likely to end up spending the rest of my life with but at the stage I was at, that was hardly the goal. I needed practice in talking and LISTENING and learning how to have a romantic relationship. I regret stepping away as early as I did in the process, but I conducted myself with honesty and consideration which made the experience positive in the end. I was also struggling with a completely obsessive crush on what my friends and I called a "bad monkey". A guy who was attractive to me more because of what was wrong with him that who he was genuinely as a person. I think I chose the safety of a mental private obsession rather than the scary vulnerable reality of someone who was saying to me in express terms, "I like you just as you are RIGHT NOW". But I learned a lot through my fledgling dating experience. With the most important thing being that despite WHATEVER prevailing thoughts I might have about myself or body image, I was likable just as I was.
I've always thought that there's a rather large chasm between an idea being true in my mind and my heart. Nowhere is that more pronounced than when it comes to my own thoughts of being an attractive desirable woman. I have several friends of size who have vibrant and full dating lives, and one who is married to a really truly great guy. They don't let their size hinder them in any way, but specifically in the arena of romance. I truly envy their innate belief in themselves. And when I try to imagine myself thinking that way, it's easier to imagine myself walking on Mars in the next 6 months. Intellectually I SHOULD believe that I am more than the size of my body, that there is a man out there who will find me interesting and funny, attractive and worth being with. I also INTELLECTUALLY know that pressing the call button for an elevator 15 times after the button gets lit up doesn't make the elevator get there any faster. But I press the button anyway.
And so as I continue on this journey towards physical, emotional and spiritual health I know that I am going to have to change the way I view myself in the world of romance. Because I know (intellectually I suspect) that the only person keeping me out of the dating game is the one staring back at me in the bathroom mirror every morning when I'm brushing my teeth. I want to be in a place where I don't judge someone based solely on their appearance anymore than I would want to be judged. I want to be willing to set down the fantasy life and pick up a REAL life, and I want to be able to suit up and show up to this area of life truly feeling like one among many. NO better but NO worse. My experience of being in recovery has shown me that I am just as powerless over the way I think about romantic relationships as I am over the idea that food will fix my problems. And the good news is that the solution therefore, is the same. I admit I'm powerless over the issue and I ask a power greater than myself to change my heart, so that the chasm between my heart and mind can shrink. And sometimes that power greater than me is the support of friends, who truly know me well enough to call me on my faulty thinking. Sometimes that power is my therapist who lays out my thinking in a logical progression so I'm able to see that if I had a friend who thought about themselves the way I think about myself, I'd treat them with infinite kindness, love and affirmation. Once again, I've got a ways to travel on this issue, but I'm getting started on the journey.
Friday, June 1, 2012
The Myth of "The Happy Fat Chick"
Looking back at my childhood and adolescence there were certain family "rules" that we abided by. The primary rule that my mom spoke quite frequently was the mantra that we be "Happy, Happy, Happy." She frequently said that when there was discord in the family and she just wanted to just smooth it over and go back to things looking good. Even if we were alone as a family unit, it had to look good. Amidst the yelling, arguing, fighting, crying, silence and the more then occasional "stink eye" looks, we had to appear and believe that we were all happy. I think that sentiment carries over into lots of places in my life, and certainly one of those is the world of external image management. Even if I was being teased, taunted, bullied or ignored, I certainly needed to appear like I was happy. I was certainly known as the girl who had/has a vivid sense of humor, was always quick with a joke, and was generally in a good mood. I'm not sure if I gave out this vibe authentically or if I did it in an attempt to try and make people like me more. I do know that having an artificially perky demeanor was not done to make people believe that I never had my feelings hurt or that I was someone who was coated in Teflon when it came to the mean and nasty comments of others. I have realized in retrospect that I'm not that good of an actress. I never have been. Of all the clothes I've ever owned, they always had to be able to accommodate me wearing my heart on my sleeve.
Growing up and becoming part of the 12 Step community of OA effected me greatly when it came to my belief and use of the "Happy, Happy, Happy" mantra. My mom had always been very tall and very slender growing up due to a high activity level, and summers spent as a lifeguard on one of Minnesota's ten thousand lakes. When she got married, as many women do, her diet discipline relaxed and she put on weight. At 5' 9 3/4", she spent the majority of my childhood and adolescence at a size 18/20, which while considered a "plus" size, did not look disproportionally large at the time. But I very clearly remember that she would frequently say out loud to the anyone who was listening, "I'll be happy when I'm thin." That statement created two ideas in my head: a) My mom is not happy "now"; and b) If you're overweight you can't possibly be happy. It became one of those things that I just believed to be true after hearing it enough times. It certainly became true for me.
So imagine my profound surprise of walking into my very first 12 step meeting ever and finding happy, grateful, joyful people of ALL shapes and sizes. I was welcomed into the community with great affection and understanding and I was immediately struck by the idea that here were people who may not necessarily be at what they believe is their ideal body weight, but they were happy RIGHT NOW. They weren't waiting for a number on a scale, or the results of a diet that was starting on the following Monday, first of the month, or next New Years. It was, and remains to be the thing that keeps me coming back to OA. The idea that happiness was not contingent on anything that was waiting to be acquired in the future.
Something else happened when I began participating in OA regularly. I began to understand that my worth and lovability did not depend on me giving off an artificial picture of happiness. And as I mentioned before, with my being a less than spectacular actress, most of the people close to me, were not fooled by my "Happy Fat Chick" facade anyway. When I finally began talking about the shame and self-loathing that accompanied 200+ extra pounds of weight on my body, there was a collective sigh of relief on the part of my friends. They finally felt like they could talk to me about something that they had been genuinely concerned about. Not only was my health becoming a legitimate concern at this point, but everyone knew that I was sad even profoundly depressed, and that there was a profound whole in my heart that had been undiscovered and unfilled up until that point. I felt such a sense of remorse that the people who cared about me so much, and were my closest friends, somehow knew that the topic of my weight and eating were NOT safe topics to bring up to me. I was too defensive and up until entering OA, too unwilling to start making any sort of changes in this area of my life. Even as imperfectly as I have done, it truly hope that I am never so defensive and guarded that those who care about me can't bring up a topic if they're coming from a place of love and concern.
As I began to put the food down once tenuous day at a time in OA, the feelings I'd been so desperately trying to push down bubbled up, the emotions came with the predictability of a summer squall. I can honestly say that I cried in my second meeting. I think the primary reason I cried was because I was finally in a place where it was safe to do so. There was such a sense of relief that I'd found a community of people who felt and acted the same way that I did when it came to the crazy irrational and powerless things that I'd done with food. It truly felt like I'd found "HOME". If you are one of the people who have found acceptance, understanding, love and hope in the rooms of recovery; you may be able to relate when I say that it was nothing short of a miracle to feel safe. Finally feeling loved and accepted even when I weighed 400lbs, felt like a profound experience, and it still does.
One of the ongoing processes for me in my journey is to be honest when I am asked how I'm doing or feeling. It's amazing how much I still want to say, "I'm fine", with a happy perky and completely artificial smile on my face when people as me how I'm doing. I want to be able to say that "I'm great!" because I'd like to feel like a happy chirpy bird in a Disney movie all the time. And some days I can say that, and some days I can't. The challenge is to realize that the size of my body does not determine my worth or my RIGHT to be honest about how I'm feeling on any given day. The size of my body does not determine the RIGHT I have to receive support when I need it. Learning to ask for that support is an on going process. THAT is the beginning of the journey to becoming an authentically happy and content person. I feel like I'm certainly on my way so far.
Growing up and becoming part of the 12 Step community of OA effected me greatly when it came to my belief and use of the "Happy, Happy, Happy" mantra. My mom had always been very tall and very slender growing up due to a high activity level, and summers spent as a lifeguard on one of Minnesota's ten thousand lakes. When she got married, as many women do, her diet discipline relaxed and she put on weight. At 5' 9 3/4", she spent the majority of my childhood and adolescence at a size 18/20, which while considered a "plus" size, did not look disproportionally large at the time. But I very clearly remember that she would frequently say out loud to the anyone who was listening, "I'll be happy when I'm thin." That statement created two ideas in my head: a) My mom is not happy "now"; and b) If you're overweight you can't possibly be happy. It became one of those things that I just believed to be true after hearing it enough times. It certainly became true for me.
So imagine my profound surprise of walking into my very first 12 step meeting ever and finding happy, grateful, joyful people of ALL shapes and sizes. I was welcomed into the community with great affection and understanding and I was immediately struck by the idea that here were people who may not necessarily be at what they believe is their ideal body weight, but they were happy RIGHT NOW. They weren't waiting for a number on a scale, or the results of a diet that was starting on the following Monday, first of the month, or next New Years. It was, and remains to be the thing that keeps me coming back to OA. The idea that happiness was not contingent on anything that was waiting to be acquired in the future.
Something else happened when I began participating in OA regularly. I began to understand that my worth and lovability did not depend on me giving off an artificial picture of happiness. And as I mentioned before, with my being a less than spectacular actress, most of the people close to me, were not fooled by my "Happy Fat Chick" facade anyway. When I finally began talking about the shame and self-loathing that accompanied 200+ extra pounds of weight on my body, there was a collective sigh of relief on the part of my friends. They finally felt like they could talk to me about something that they had been genuinely concerned about. Not only was my health becoming a legitimate concern at this point, but everyone knew that I was sad even profoundly depressed, and that there was a profound whole in my heart that had been undiscovered and unfilled up until that point. I felt such a sense of remorse that the people who cared about me so much, and were my closest friends, somehow knew that the topic of my weight and eating were NOT safe topics to bring up to me. I was too defensive and up until entering OA, too unwilling to start making any sort of changes in this area of my life. Even as imperfectly as I have done, it truly hope that I am never so defensive and guarded that those who care about me can't bring up a topic if they're coming from a place of love and concern.
As I began to put the food down once tenuous day at a time in OA, the feelings I'd been so desperately trying to push down bubbled up, the emotions came with the predictability of a summer squall. I can honestly say that I cried in my second meeting. I think the primary reason I cried was because I was finally in a place where it was safe to do so. There was such a sense of relief that I'd found a community of people who felt and acted the same way that I did when it came to the crazy irrational and powerless things that I'd done with food. It truly felt like I'd found "HOME". If you are one of the people who have found acceptance, understanding, love and hope in the rooms of recovery; you may be able to relate when I say that it was nothing short of a miracle to feel safe. Finally feeling loved and accepted even when I weighed 400lbs, felt like a profound experience, and it still does.
One of the ongoing processes for me in my journey is to be honest when I am asked how I'm doing or feeling. It's amazing how much I still want to say, "I'm fine", with a happy perky and completely artificial smile on my face when people as me how I'm doing. I want to be able to say that "I'm great!" because I'd like to feel like a happy chirpy bird in a Disney movie all the time. And some days I can say that, and some days I can't. The challenge is to realize that the size of my body does not determine my worth or my RIGHT to be honest about how I'm feeling on any given day. The size of my body does not determine the RIGHT I have to receive support when I need it. Learning to ask for that support is an on going process. THAT is the beginning of the journey to becoming an authentically happy and content person. I feel like I'm certainly on my way so far.
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