The past few weeks have not been my best. In terms of the way I have been handling stress - which has a direct impact on how I treat and view myself - things have been a bit bleak. Nothing bad has happened, but I've been pressed for time, pushed out of my comfort zone, and haven't really had any time to decompress (which is vital for an introvert like me) - so I have defaulted to my standard coping mechanism: eating. Just the other night after work, I grabbed a six pack of cupcakes from the store, telling myself I needed them and I didn't care that I'd regret making that choice. After dinner, I ate two of them...and then came regret and shame, in a huge wave that washed over me, pushing me into an urgent need to find some way to absolve myself of the guilt, rid myself of the ugly feelings and self-judgment. I resolved to get rid of the remaining cupcakes, as if that would somehow erase what I had done. The next morning, I decided I would not get rid of the other cupcakes - because to do so grants them a kind of power over me that I am not okay with...and it only perpetuates this cycle of addictive behavior.
I'm not proud of myself for what I consider backward movement. I dislike how easy it is to rely on food (by which of course I mean "junk" food) to be my salve for any sort of uncomfortable feeling - as opposed to actually examining how I feel and being okay with whatever that is. I am scared that I will never be able to really change this behavior, to break this pattern and free myself of the burdens of self-hatred (because, in some ways, I believe I do actually still hate myself), and regularly make decisions based on self-love and self-respect. I sometimes wonder if I know what that kind of living would look like..and I wonder if that is what scares me -- the unknown.
What if this pattern I'm living in now is no different than the pattern that keeps battered women stuck in destructive relationships? I can say, based on my experience, that two things kept me stuck in an abusive relationship: 1) fear of the unknown, and 2) a solid belief that I didn't deserve any better (again, a belief formed by other trauma and also careful conditioning by the man I was involved with). So, is this situation with food really all that different?
Previously, I wrote about food as a Mean Girl, the friend who smiles to your face but crushes you first chance she gets - what about food as abuser? When I think about the pattern of behavior I experienced with an abusive partner, I see similarities - he seemed harmless in the beginning...charming, even. He made me feel special and made me really want to be with him. Over time, the deeper I got into the relationship, I started to lose myself (those parts that were incongruous to maintaining the status quo and balance) until I only knew him. Then, as I began to see clearly again, seeing who he really was and how he was hurting me (cutting me down, convincing me I was nothing without him, forcing me to give up who I was), I wanted out but I was afraid. Afraid he was right, afraid he would hurt me for real (physically) if I tried to get out. And then I realized that the only way I could be happy, could be okay was to get away, no matter what happened. So, I did it. It was scary, it took time, and it wasn't exactly easy, but I did it. And I'm stronger because of it...though it has taken me nearly 20 years to truly find my strength and myself.
So now I wonder, couldn't breaking up with my old, damaging eating habits be the same? Uncomfortable, painful, and certainly scary. But what have I got to gain from getting out of this relationship?
I'm going to have to spend some more time pondering this parallel, considering how much my current behaviors are actually not serving or helping me, and looking at how I might use that information to change the behaviors and, ultimately, the relationship. Unlike the ex-boyfriend, whom I could leave behind and live without, food is necessary. I can't stop eating, so I have to fix the problem and the relationship, recreating it until there is no shame, no guilt, and, most of all, no damage.
Saturday, March 14, 2015
Saturday, February 21, 2015
Food as Friend?
In a conversation with a friend the other day, we were discussing how we turn to food as a way to deal with our pain (stress, boredom, depression, anxiety, loneliness, etc.) and I remembered a realization I'd had a few years ago - I eat because I am lonely. There is a hole inside of me, created by the notion that no one could ever know my pain, and built upon by loss, leaving a gaping hole in my soul. I fill the void with food. I feed it when I am sad, I feed it when I am scared, and I feed it when I am lonely (which, of course, is the love child of scared and sad). I eat because food doesn't judge me when I'm too lazy to get dressed and instead spend the day on the couch. Food doesn't hold back when I need comfort. Food doesn't leave me alone with my thoughts. Food doesn't leave me, period. Food is, and always has been, my most loyal companion.
In remembering this, I felt like I had once again stumbled onto this profound explanation, and, therefore, it would be easy to fix. But then my friend said something that explained the issue even better - and complicated everything: Food is more like one of those fake high school friends, the mean girl who smiles to your face, tells you you're her best friend, and then stabs you in the back first chance she gets. You adore her, you need her - even while you know she is going to hurt you.
This epiphany adds layers of complexity to the notion that food equals love. How twisted is my sense of love and comfort that I continually seek companionship from something that I know is only going to cause me pain? Do I think so little of myself that I believe it's okay to allow this?
The answer, it seems, is yes.
To be clear, I do not hate myself. At least not anymore. Like many people, my adolescence, and even my twenties, were fraught with the general angst of becoming, and it wasn't until recently that I've begun to embrace the person I've become...but that's a story for another time. The thing is, I've had some trauma in my life (much like many people I know) - a number of events that shaped how I perceived myself; relationships that tore me down to nothing but raw nerves, made me doubt my goodness as a human being, and my worthiness for love. I've come a long way in my journey to heal those wounds, but they're still there, and sometimes the jagged edges get torn open and the pain seeps out.
It is that pain that holds me back, even as it guides me toward healing. It is that pain that seeks comfort, in any form that comes. It is that pain that mutters, I'm not worthy.
I have lived nearly forty years making choices based on a twisted sense of self-worth, a need for immediate comfort and gratification (regardless of the consequences), and a deep-seated belief that I deserve this pain. All of these things have worked together to put me in a place of being uncomfortable in this body and knowing I need to make changes, but fearing a future without those sources of "comfort". How will I manage without cake to keep me company, without fast food to fill the void, without mindless eating to numb the pain? How will I stay grounded without these drugs, these salves? How am I going to function if I have to feel? How can I show the world who I am without hiding behind my weight? Will I be good enough, or will I fail, as usual, and turn back to food because it's all I have?
It's scary to be making choices based on how I want to feel later instead of how I feel right now. It's disconcerting to walk away from food, telling myself I don't need it, or it will only make me feel worse (physically and emotionally). I'm learning to choose with the long term in mind (because I love myself and I want to and deserve to feel good), and not the short term (because I hate my life, I hate myself and I just want to make this all go away). Is it easy? Yes and no. It's easier than I thought it would be, which I believe is a testament to how much I actually love myself. But it's also hard to break life-long habits, and I have moments when the pull is too strong for my new will, and I make a choice based on old beliefs. I'm learning to forgive myself, though, when that happens. I'm only human, after all. I'm not, and never will be, perfect. I'm okay, just as I am.
I'm wondering if I should do something ceremonious to bid farewell to old "friends", or if by doing so I give them too much power over me. With every choice I make, though, I am letting them go. Maybe that's ceremony enough.
In remembering this, I felt like I had once again stumbled onto this profound explanation, and, therefore, it would be easy to fix. But then my friend said something that explained the issue even better - and complicated everything: Food is more like one of those fake high school friends, the mean girl who smiles to your face, tells you you're her best friend, and then stabs you in the back first chance she gets. You adore her, you need her - even while you know she is going to hurt you.
This epiphany adds layers of complexity to the notion that food equals love. How twisted is my sense of love and comfort that I continually seek companionship from something that I know is only going to cause me pain? Do I think so little of myself that I believe it's okay to allow this?
The answer, it seems, is yes.
To be clear, I do not hate myself. At least not anymore. Like many people, my adolescence, and even my twenties, were fraught with the general angst of becoming, and it wasn't until recently that I've begun to embrace the person I've become...but that's a story for another time. The thing is, I've had some trauma in my life (much like many people I know) - a number of events that shaped how I perceived myself; relationships that tore me down to nothing but raw nerves, made me doubt my goodness as a human being, and my worthiness for love. I've come a long way in my journey to heal those wounds, but they're still there, and sometimes the jagged edges get torn open and the pain seeps out.
It is that pain that holds me back, even as it guides me toward healing. It is that pain that seeks comfort, in any form that comes. It is that pain that mutters, I'm not worthy.
I have lived nearly forty years making choices based on a twisted sense of self-worth, a need for immediate comfort and gratification (regardless of the consequences), and a deep-seated belief that I deserve this pain. All of these things have worked together to put me in a place of being uncomfortable in this body and knowing I need to make changes, but fearing a future without those sources of "comfort". How will I manage without cake to keep me company, without fast food to fill the void, without mindless eating to numb the pain? How will I stay grounded without these drugs, these salves? How am I going to function if I have to feel? How can I show the world who I am without hiding behind my weight? Will I be good enough, or will I fail, as usual, and turn back to food because it's all I have?
It's scary to be making choices based on how I want to feel later instead of how I feel right now. It's disconcerting to walk away from food, telling myself I don't need it, or it will only make me feel worse (physically and emotionally). I'm learning to choose with the long term in mind (because I love myself and I want to and deserve to feel good), and not the short term (because I hate my life, I hate myself and I just want to make this all go away). Is it easy? Yes and no. It's easier than I thought it would be, which I believe is a testament to how much I actually love myself. But it's also hard to break life-long habits, and I have moments when the pull is too strong for my new will, and I make a choice based on old beliefs. I'm learning to forgive myself, though, when that happens. I'm only human, after all. I'm not, and never will be, perfect. I'm okay, just as I am.
I'm wondering if I should do something ceremonious to bid farewell to old "friends", or if by doing so I give them too much power over me. With every choice I make, though, I am letting them go. Maybe that's ceremony enough.
Saturday, February 14, 2015
First Comes Love...Or Does It?
A friend of mine recently started a weight loss program, and my initial reaction was something like shock, and maybe a little terror. I felt judged somehow because SHE could no longer handle her eating and weight gain - and she is nowhere near my size. If it was that bad for her, what did that say about me? Was she as horrified by me as I am?
My way of handling it was to spout off my "firm" belief that body acceptance and love should come first, and weight loss would naturally follow. I silently criticized the notion of prescribed meals, telling myself that it was no way to learn how to eat - after all, that wasn't the way to manage one's relationship with food. And I sat back on my high horse, secretly waiting for the whole thing to blow up.
What I didn't see coming was that as she learned, very early on, what her triggers were and how this eating plan forced her to realize how she had been using food, I began to see parallels in my own eating habits. I began to see how all the junk I'd been preaching had been nothing but a bunch of fluff designed to distract me from reality: I have a problem with food. I am not alone in that, but it's still my problem. And as for the "first comes body love, then comes weight loss" idea, says who? What if, by doing things like exercising and eating better, for myself and my body out of respect and caring, I end up loving it and accepting it?
One of the things I have been afraid of is allowing myself to be motivated by shame. It might work in the short term (as evidenced by every fad diet and workout program ever advertised), but it doesn't get to the core of the issue - why we eat. So I have been seeking out other motivators, ones based on positive things like self-love and -acceptance. As I write this, I am still trying to find that formula, that motivation that speaks to my values and goals. But what I recently realized is that I don't have to find those things before I start making changes. It's possible that by doing it, by getting started and making value-based choices (rather than choosing for immediate gratification), the answers to the bigger questions might just find me. Maybe I have to be doing the work to be open and ready to receive the "answers".
And so I begin on this journey - one choice, one step, one change at a time. It's already uncomfortable, and I don't exactly like how it feels to be so damn mindful of every choice, but I'm here. I'm on the path.
My way of handling it was to spout off my "firm" belief that body acceptance and love should come first, and weight loss would naturally follow. I silently criticized the notion of prescribed meals, telling myself that it was no way to learn how to eat - after all, that wasn't the way to manage one's relationship with food. And I sat back on my high horse, secretly waiting for the whole thing to blow up.
What I didn't see coming was that as she learned, very early on, what her triggers were and how this eating plan forced her to realize how she had been using food, I began to see parallels in my own eating habits. I began to see how all the junk I'd been preaching had been nothing but a bunch of fluff designed to distract me from reality: I have a problem with food. I am not alone in that, but it's still my problem. And as for the "first comes body love, then comes weight loss" idea, says who? What if, by doing things like exercising and eating better, for myself and my body out of respect and caring, I end up loving it and accepting it?
One of the things I have been afraid of is allowing myself to be motivated by shame. It might work in the short term (as evidenced by every fad diet and workout program ever advertised), but it doesn't get to the core of the issue - why we eat. So I have been seeking out other motivators, ones based on positive things like self-love and -acceptance. As I write this, I am still trying to find that formula, that motivation that speaks to my values and goals. But what I recently realized is that I don't have to find those things before I start making changes. It's possible that by doing it, by getting started and making value-based choices (rather than choosing for immediate gratification), the answers to the bigger questions might just find me. Maybe I have to be doing the work to be open and ready to receive the "answers".
And so I begin on this journey - one choice, one step, one change at a time. It's already uncomfortable, and I don't exactly like how it feels to be so damn mindful of every choice, but I'm here. I'm on the path.
Monday, February 9, 2015
To Begin, Again
It's no secret that weight and body image have always been issues for me. I was chubby all through childhood, "plus-sized" in high school, and by the time I was twenty, I was seriously overweight. Now, facing forty head-on, I am the heaviest I have ever been and I'm giving a lot of thought to how best to deal with the problem of my weight, and what got me here.
About five years ago, I managed to lose thirty pounds and I felt really good about what I was able to accomplish - it took me about eighteen months and I was doing really well. Eating balanced meals, working out, and losing steadily. Then I hit an emotional pothole and everything came undone, including me. Crippling anxiety and severe depression ruled my life. I could barely work or go to school, I couldn't be around people without sinking into fits of panic, and I turned back to food to soothe my raw and aching nerves. Thirty pounds came back in just a couple of months, and more weight came with it.
I pulled myself out of that dark period, but the cost of it all was that I was not just back where I started, but even further behind. And, unfortunately, that weight has stayed with me for several years.
It's not easy for me to write this, knowing people will read it. I fear being judged by others the way I judge myself. Even with all my public talk about body acceptance, my own body and body image have been my private shame. But that's exactly why I wanted to do this - to break down the wall I keep trying to put around myself and stop using my embarrassment as a shield. To talk about the things that everyone who has ever struggled with their weight has ever thought, felt and experienced. To talk through the process of learning to love myself and treat myself and my body with respect, with the ultimate goal of getting healthier and more fit.
My ideas and ideals about how to reach that goal are somewhat fluid at this point and often easily influenced, so I thought that by working it out in a more public forum I can accomplish a few of things at once - getting past my shame, finding a path that works for me, and hopefully involving some friends and readers in the process so that we can all find our path.
I hope you'll take this journey with me, and interact with me as well. Through this blog, I plan to talk about what others are talking about (on Facebook, on TV, in magazines, etc.), The Body Love Movement, how society and the media define beauty, how to come to terms with myself, how to manage and redefine my relationship with food...an much more. Stay tuned! ;)
About five years ago, I managed to lose thirty pounds and I felt really good about what I was able to accomplish - it took me about eighteen months and I was doing really well. Eating balanced meals, working out, and losing steadily. Then I hit an emotional pothole and everything came undone, including me. Crippling anxiety and severe depression ruled my life. I could barely work or go to school, I couldn't be around people without sinking into fits of panic, and I turned back to food to soothe my raw and aching nerves. Thirty pounds came back in just a couple of months, and more weight came with it.
I pulled myself out of that dark period, but the cost of it all was that I was not just back where I started, but even further behind. And, unfortunately, that weight has stayed with me for several years.
It's not easy for me to write this, knowing people will read it. I fear being judged by others the way I judge myself. Even with all my public talk about body acceptance, my own body and body image have been my private shame. But that's exactly why I wanted to do this - to break down the wall I keep trying to put around myself and stop using my embarrassment as a shield. To talk about the things that everyone who has ever struggled with their weight has ever thought, felt and experienced. To talk through the process of learning to love myself and treat myself and my body with respect, with the ultimate goal of getting healthier and more fit.
My ideas and ideals about how to reach that goal are somewhat fluid at this point and often easily influenced, so I thought that by working it out in a more public forum I can accomplish a few of things at once - getting past my shame, finding a path that works for me, and hopefully involving some friends and readers in the process so that we can all find our path.
I hope you'll take this journey with me, and interact with me as well. Through this blog, I plan to talk about what others are talking about (on Facebook, on TV, in magazines, etc.), The Body Love Movement, how society and the media define beauty, how to come to terms with myself, how to manage and redefine my relationship with food...an much more. Stay tuned! ;)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)