Let's just get this out of the way...
I binged Thursday. I was six days short of my three month mark.
Yes, I am disappointed in myself. But, I am not going to wallow. Beating myself up will not undo it. I am choosing instead to focus on what I learned:
This is not the end of the world. One bad day is ONE day. One good day does not result in anyone losing ALL the weight, and one bad day does not result in anyone gaining ALL the weight.
It is not an excuse to say "screw it" and keep eating like the end of the world is nigh. That is how I gain all the weight.
If I am going to binge it is most likely going to occur on a day when I do not exercise. Another good reason to exercise!
It felt good to be eating whatever I wanted...sort of. There was a brief punch of adrenaline at the prospect of eating all the things, but it was significantly less intense than it used to be. I am going to try to remember that the next time I feel like I want to binge. The 'high' was not that high.
Despite not wanting to, I tracked the binge. I put everything on MFP. This was painful, but also kind of helpful. First, the actual number of calories was not as bad as I would have guessed. I ended up just below 3000 on the day. This is not good, but nor is it cataclysmic. If you had asked, I would have said I'd eaten 6,000. I think this is part of my overall 'black and white' mentality when it comes to food. I am either good or I am a Titanic failure. The second reason it was helpful was because it made the 'screw it' mentality less likely. Yesterday was just another day. It got tracked like the 64 days that preceded it.
And now I am moving on.
In the middle of last month, I made some commitments:
1. Continue my binge free streak
So clearly that did not happen. BUT... I can start another binge free streak today and hope to beat my (nearly) three month record.
2. Track calories without becoming obsessive. I will reduce my calorie allotment to reflect my increased exercise (exercise calories get added to your MFP goal). I will experiment with greater accuracy in calorie counting (weighing/measuring) but I will stop immediately if it starts to become obsessive.
I have continued to do this. Today is my 65th straight day of tracking on MyFitnessPal. I decreased my daily calories to 1450 to reflect my additional exercise calories. I have not done much in the way of weighing and measuring, but I am going to keep it as a goal because aiming for greater accuracy is a good plan.
3. Continue to lose weight at a pace that keeps me sane and happy. This is not a diet. It is my life.
As of about a week ago, my weight had dropped again, but by just a tiny amount. I went from 150.4 at last check to 149.8. Something tells me I would not be there if I jumped on a scale right now! I will check in on this in a few days. The overall trend remains steady and/or downward. And that is good. I would love for the weight to be falling right off, but I know the tradeoff there for me is being unhappy and VERY likely to binge because I have to reduce my calories to around 1200 a day.
4. Increase my exercise intensity by increasing the incline for my walk portion to 6 or 6.5. I will maintain the 1% incline for my runs and continue to add run time.
Done! I have increased my incline to 6% for my walking portions. I have stayed at a 1% incline for runs, but have increased my time spent running. I am currently at 31 min run/29 min walk done at a 5.7 pace or 10:30/mile. I look forward to working out 95% of the time! :)
So, as part of my commitment to just getting right back on track, I am updating those goals:
1. Start a new binge free streak today. My previous record was 84 days.
2. Continue to track calories and experiment with greater accuracy by weighing/measuring. Reduce my calorie goal again once I am burning 500 calories through exercise.
3. Continue to lose weight at a pace that keeps me sane and happy.
4. Start adding time or intensity to the run portion of my workouts. Instead of adding one minute each day, I am going to add 1:30 OR stay at my time and increase my pace to 6.0 (10 min/mile). I will continue to walk the rest of the hour at 3.7, but increase the incline to 6.5%
Saturday, August 6, 2016
Tuesday, July 12, 2016
Checking in on my goals
Just about one month ago (June 15), I created a few goals for myself. They were:
1. To continue my binge free streak
2. To continue to track my calories without becoming obsessive
3. To continue to lose approximately one pound a week, but not to allow this goal to dictate my entire life. If it happens more slowly, that is fine. I just want the general trend to be downward.
4. To increase my exercise intensity. I would like to work running back into the mix. My current plan is to run 2-5 minutes (whatever feels right; no less than 2 and no more than 5 on the first day) at a 10:30 min/mile pace and to increase my running time by one minute each day. The rest of the time will be spent walking and watching The Americans :)
Update:
1. I have now been binge free for another month! This means I have not binged since May 10 2016. This alone is a huge accomplishment for me given how unable I felt to control my binging episodes.
2. I have been able to continue to track my calories. In fact, I have a 41 day streak of logging everything on MyFitnessPal. More importantly, I have been able to do this without becoming obsessive or beating myself up about perceived failures. So far, at least, I have been able to use it as a tool for mindful eating, and not as a tool to confirm my lack of self worth. A small (big, huge) thing.
3. My current weight is 150.4. That means I have only lost 1.2 lbs. in the last month. And, oddly, I am okay with that. The re-establishment of healthy eating habits and positive self regard are what matter to me here. I have also become aware of how much my weight fluctuates. I am not sure if this has to do with sodium intake, exercise patterns, PMS, or what, but I can fluctuate nearly five pounds over the course of a week/ten days. So, all I am really looking for is a downward trend. And that is happening. Most importantly, that is happening without unhealthy behaviors. I continue to do my best to overestimate my calorie intake and underestimate my exercise calories burned. I have been mixing in some weighing/measuring of food and ingredients when possible in order to get more accurate calorie counts. I am wary of this as creating sustainable practices is my goal. I cannot determine how many ounces of hummus I am eating when I am at a party or out to dinner. And, if food returns to being a chore and punishment, as opposed to one of life's pleasures (along with a million other things), then I might be thin, but I will not be happy. And a joy filled life is what I want!
4. I worked running back into my exercise mix! I started with a 5 min run at a 10:30 min/mile pace (that is 5.7 on a treadmill) and then spent the remainder of the hour doing a 3.7 pace at a 5.0 incline. Today I ran 18 mins at the same pace. I have set a few plateau points (every additional five minutes) where I hold that pace for a few days to establish endurance. So, when I hit 15, I kept that speed for three days and then returned to increasing by one minute on the 4th day. I will do the same when I hit 20, 25 etc. I am also doing exercise that I don't think of as exercise (hiking with my husband, just walking to do errands etc.). I have definitely missed days of working out, but not out of a desire to avoid it; life has just intervened. Those times have been planned (I have looked ahead at my calendar and seen that I would be working early AND late; would have a lot of kid activities etc. etc.) and that has been fine. I have not had a day where I just skipped working out because I did not feel like it. I need to look back at my calendar, but I think I have worked out 20 of the last 30 days. Again, some of those days have not been treadmill days, but something like a 7-10 mile hike. I do not count the days where I take a walk to do errands etc.
My plan is to continue to work on all of the above goals with a few adjustments:
1. Continue my binge free streak
2. Track calories without becoming obsessive. I will reduce my calorie allotment to reflect my increased exercise (exercise calories get added to your MFP goal). I will experiment with greater accuracy in calorie counting (weighing/measuring) but I will stop immediately if it starts to become obsessive.
3. Continue to lose weight at a pace that keeps me sane and happy. This is not a diet. It is my life.
4. Increase my exercise intensity by increasing the incline for my walk portion to 6 or 6.5. I will maintain the 1% incline for my runs and continue to add run time.
I cannot tell you how much happier I am now than I was just a few short months ago. The weight of secrecy and shame is so heavy. Not binging means not having to hide.
1. To continue my binge free streak
2. To continue to track my calories without becoming obsessive
3. To continue to lose approximately one pound a week, but not to allow this goal to dictate my entire life. If it happens more slowly, that is fine. I just want the general trend to be downward.
4. To increase my exercise intensity. I would like to work running back into the mix. My current plan is to run 2-5 minutes (whatever feels right; no less than 2 and no more than 5 on the first day) at a 10:30 min/mile pace and to increase my running time by one minute each day. The rest of the time will be spent walking and watching The Americans :)
Update:
1. I have now been binge free for another month! This means I have not binged since May 10 2016. This alone is a huge accomplishment for me given how unable I felt to control my binging episodes.
2. I have been able to continue to track my calories. In fact, I have a 41 day streak of logging everything on MyFitnessPal. More importantly, I have been able to do this without becoming obsessive or beating myself up about perceived failures. So far, at least, I have been able to use it as a tool for mindful eating, and not as a tool to confirm my lack of self worth. A small (big, huge) thing.
3. My current weight is 150.4. That means I have only lost 1.2 lbs. in the last month. And, oddly, I am okay with that. The re-establishment of healthy eating habits and positive self regard are what matter to me here. I have also become aware of how much my weight fluctuates. I am not sure if this has to do with sodium intake, exercise patterns, PMS, or what, but I can fluctuate nearly five pounds over the course of a week/ten days. So, all I am really looking for is a downward trend. And that is happening. Most importantly, that is happening without unhealthy behaviors. I continue to do my best to overestimate my calorie intake and underestimate my exercise calories burned. I have been mixing in some weighing/measuring of food and ingredients when possible in order to get more accurate calorie counts. I am wary of this as creating sustainable practices is my goal. I cannot determine how many ounces of hummus I am eating when I am at a party or out to dinner. And, if food returns to being a chore and punishment, as opposed to one of life's pleasures (along with a million other things), then I might be thin, but I will not be happy. And a joy filled life is what I want!
4. I worked running back into my exercise mix! I started with a 5 min run at a 10:30 min/mile pace (that is 5.7 on a treadmill) and then spent the remainder of the hour doing a 3.7 pace at a 5.0 incline. Today I ran 18 mins at the same pace. I have set a few plateau points (every additional five minutes) where I hold that pace for a few days to establish endurance. So, when I hit 15, I kept that speed for three days and then returned to increasing by one minute on the 4th day. I will do the same when I hit 20, 25 etc. I am also doing exercise that I don't think of as exercise (hiking with my husband, just walking to do errands etc.). I have definitely missed days of working out, but not out of a desire to avoid it; life has just intervened. Those times have been planned (I have looked ahead at my calendar and seen that I would be working early AND late; would have a lot of kid activities etc. etc.) and that has been fine. I have not had a day where I just skipped working out because I did not feel like it. I need to look back at my calendar, but I think I have worked out 20 of the last 30 days. Again, some of those days have not been treadmill days, but something like a 7-10 mile hike. I do not count the days where I take a walk to do errands etc.
My plan is to continue to work on all of the above goals with a few adjustments:
1. Continue my binge free streak
2. Track calories without becoming obsessive. I will reduce my calorie allotment to reflect my increased exercise (exercise calories get added to your MFP goal). I will experiment with greater accuracy in calorie counting (weighing/measuring) but I will stop immediately if it starts to become obsessive.
3. Continue to lose weight at a pace that keeps me sane and happy. This is not a diet. It is my life.
4. Increase my exercise intensity by increasing the incline for my walk portion to 6 or 6.5. I will maintain the 1% incline for my runs and continue to add run time.
I cannot tell you how much happier I am now than I was just a few short months ago. The weight of secrecy and shame is so heavy. Not binging means not having to hide.
Wednesday, June 15, 2016
over one month binge free!
If anyone had told me - at virtually any point over the last 2.5 years - that I would be able to go one month without binging I would not have believed them. But, here I am!
Here are some good stats:
1. I have not binged since May 10th. I overate pretty consistently between May 11 and May 30, but I did not binge once. There is a significant difference between overeating and binging. Overeating is 3 or 4 slices of pizza when 1 or 2 would be enough to satisfy you. Binging is eating an entire pizza by yourself followed by ice cream, cookies, and whatever else you can cram into your mouth. Binging is doing all of that as fast as possible, with as little thought as possible, until you truly feel ill.
2. I have been eating "like a normal person" since May 30. I have tracked calories without becoming obsessive, and I have maintained my perspective. Going over my calorie goal has not been an excuse to binge.
3. I have been exercising consistently. I am still not ready to run outside, go to yoga or the gym - - basically I do not want anyone to see me working out. But, I have exercised ten of the last twelve days. I have been walking for one hour on the treadmill while watching episodes of The Americans on my phone. Good show, by the way!
4. I made the decision to add my exercise calories to my calorie tracker so that I could have a more accurate picture of things. I want to make sure that I do not look back in X weeks (when I have forgotten which days I exercised and which days I did not) and think that eating 2000 calories a day three out of five days allows me to lose weight when I burned a few hundred exercising but did not log it. I was concerned about logging exercise calories for fear that it would motivate me to eat back exercise calories just because they were there, but so far this has not been the case.
5. I have lost five pounds in just over two weeks. My current weight is 151.6
6. I have not been excessively preoccupied with thoughts of food, or with negative thoughts about my body. This alone is wonderful. To be able to have space in my head for ANYTHING other than food and self-hatred is wonderfully freeing.
My new goals are:
1. To continue my binge free streak
2. To continue to track my calories without becoming obsessive
3. To continue to lose approximately one pound a week, but not to allow this goal to dictate my entire life. If it happens more slowly, that is fine. I just want the general trend to be downward.
4. To increase my exercise intensity. I would like to work running back into the mix. My current plan is to run 2-5 minutes (whatever feels right; no less than 2 and no more than 5 on the first day) at a 10:30 min/mile pace and to increase my running time by one minute each day. The rest of the time will be spent walking and watching The Americans :)
My intentions here are to start off super slow and easy so that I do not lose motivation. When I was running consistently and seriously a few years ago, I was able to keep a pace of between 8-9 mins/mile for up to six miles. I do not need to be at that point in order to start back up. More accurately, I am not going to be at that point when I start, and letting that be a barrier to getting started will mean that I never get back there.
Here are some good stats:
1. I have not binged since May 10th. I overate pretty consistently between May 11 and May 30, but I did not binge once. There is a significant difference between overeating and binging. Overeating is 3 or 4 slices of pizza when 1 or 2 would be enough to satisfy you. Binging is eating an entire pizza by yourself followed by ice cream, cookies, and whatever else you can cram into your mouth. Binging is doing all of that as fast as possible, with as little thought as possible, until you truly feel ill.
2. I have been eating "like a normal person" since May 30. I have tracked calories without becoming obsessive, and I have maintained my perspective. Going over my calorie goal has not been an excuse to binge.
3. I have been exercising consistently. I am still not ready to run outside, go to yoga or the gym - - basically I do not want anyone to see me working out. But, I have exercised ten of the last twelve days. I have been walking for one hour on the treadmill while watching episodes of The Americans on my phone. Good show, by the way!
4. I made the decision to add my exercise calories to my calorie tracker so that I could have a more accurate picture of things. I want to make sure that I do not look back in X weeks (when I have forgotten which days I exercised and which days I did not) and think that eating 2000 calories a day three out of five days allows me to lose weight when I burned a few hundred exercising but did not log it. I was concerned about logging exercise calories for fear that it would motivate me to eat back exercise calories just because they were there, but so far this has not been the case.
5. I have lost five pounds in just over two weeks. My current weight is 151.6
6. I have not been excessively preoccupied with thoughts of food, or with negative thoughts about my body. This alone is wonderful. To be able to have space in my head for ANYTHING other than food and self-hatred is wonderfully freeing.
My new goals are:
1. To continue my binge free streak
2. To continue to track my calories without becoming obsessive
3. To continue to lose approximately one pound a week, but not to allow this goal to dictate my entire life. If it happens more slowly, that is fine. I just want the general trend to be downward.
4. To increase my exercise intensity. I would like to work running back into the mix. My current plan is to run 2-5 minutes (whatever feels right; no less than 2 and no more than 5 on the first day) at a 10:30 min/mile pace and to increase my running time by one minute each day. The rest of the time will be spent walking and watching The Americans :)
My intentions here are to start off super slow and easy so that I do not lose motivation. When I was running consistently and seriously a few years ago, I was able to keep a pace of between 8-9 mins/mile for up to six miles. I do not need to be at that point in order to start back up. More accurately, I am not going to be at that point when I start, and letting that be a barrier to getting started will mean that I never get back there.
Sunday, June 5, 2016
Day five (sorta)
D was out of town most of last week, and that would usually have been a perfect opportunity for disordered eating. Knowing that I had a few days (or hours) without anyone 'watching' (not that D does watch me) was often a trigger for me. If I was able to leave work early, or had an extra bit of time traveling between my two jobs, I often used that time to binge. It would start off "innocently;" I would tell myself that I was just going to grab one cookie, or eat just a little bit of popcorn, and then all hell would break loose.
But this week, I was fine. I had the kids Wed and Thurs night, and did not even feel tempted to "get them" pizza or another treat (which I would then enjoy, too. Until I stopped enjoying it because I ate all the things), drinks Friday night with CT and EM (CT is the woman who married us two weeks ago today!) and then dinner with my friend DB. On Saturday, I did some errands and work around the house with my friend MB which made me feel organized and productive, went to a graduation party for HG and had dinner with CA. And on all of the occasions, I was fine! I did not eat cake at HG's party just because it was there (I was not hungry at the time), and although I totally enjoyed myself at drinks and dinner on both days, I did not lose my mind. I exceeded my calorie goal on Friday, but not by a ton, and I did not use that as an excuse to go crazy.
I think having a goal for calories, but not seeing it as an absolute because I am trying to lose X pounds a week, is helping. Right now, I have only two goals: eat "like a normal person" (no binges and a rough calorie goal of 1500 per day) and try to get some exercise. When I exceeded my calorie goal on Friday, I was able to keep perspective (this was helped by the fact that I was a bit under my goal on Thursday, and by the fact that I was not over by 1000 calories) by reminding myself that it is a marathon. If I stay on track more often than not, I will slowly feel better about myself.
I have been struggling with exercise. I feel unworthy of exercising. I know that makes little to no sense, but I feel like I am so out of shape, that I just can't imagine being out in public (running or going to the gym or yoga) and working out. As if everyone would be looking at me, thinking 'there's another fat girl whose body will never change'
I did exercise yesterday, though. It was an absolutely gorgeous day here, and in the past, I would have gone for a run outside, but I just could not bring myself to do it. Instead I used the treadmill in my building for 50 mins. I walked 99% of the time (3.7 mph at 5 incline), but I got my ass in gear, and that is what matters.
I am using MyFitnessPal to track calories, but I am not using it to track exercise. I do not want to see exercise as a means to eat more. I want my eating to reflect my hunger only; if I am hungry, I will eat, and if I am not, I will not. Knowing that I have X "free" calories has too often meant eating them just because I might not have those tomorrow.
But this week, I was fine. I had the kids Wed and Thurs night, and did not even feel tempted to "get them" pizza or another treat (which I would then enjoy, too. Until I stopped enjoying it because I ate all the things), drinks Friday night with CT and EM (CT is the woman who married us two weeks ago today!) and then dinner with my friend DB. On Saturday, I did some errands and work around the house with my friend MB which made me feel organized and productive, went to a graduation party for HG and had dinner with CA. And on all of the occasions, I was fine! I did not eat cake at HG's party just because it was there (I was not hungry at the time), and although I totally enjoyed myself at drinks and dinner on both days, I did not lose my mind. I exceeded my calorie goal on Friday, but not by a ton, and I did not use that as an excuse to go crazy.
I think having a goal for calories, but not seeing it as an absolute because I am trying to lose X pounds a week, is helping. Right now, I have only two goals: eat "like a normal person" (no binges and a rough calorie goal of 1500 per day) and try to get some exercise. When I exceeded my calorie goal on Friday, I was able to keep perspective (this was helped by the fact that I was a bit under my goal on Thursday, and by the fact that I was not over by 1000 calories) by reminding myself that it is a marathon. If I stay on track more often than not, I will slowly feel better about myself.
I have been struggling with exercise. I feel unworthy of exercising. I know that makes little to no sense, but I feel like I am so out of shape, that I just can't imagine being out in public (running or going to the gym or yoga) and working out. As if everyone would be looking at me, thinking 'there's another fat girl whose body will never change'
I did exercise yesterday, though. It was an absolutely gorgeous day here, and in the past, I would have gone for a run outside, but I just could not bring myself to do it. Instead I used the treadmill in my building for 50 mins. I walked 99% of the time (3.7 mph at 5 incline), but I got my ass in gear, and that is what matters.
I am using MyFitnessPal to track calories, but I am not using it to track exercise. I do not want to see exercise as a means to eat more. I want my eating to reflect my hunger only; if I am hungry, I will eat, and if I am not, I will not. Knowing that I have X "free" calories has too often meant eating them just because I might not have those tomorrow.
Thursday, June 2, 2016
Day Four (kinda)
I am hoping the recent trend towards not obsessing about food is going to continue. It has been remarkably refreshing to have space in my head for other things. First among these "other things" has been considering the implications of my postpartum bipolar diagnosis.
On the one hand, it is like being given a pardon for a life sentence. I was convinced that I was a terrible monster because of the way I behaved after both my kids were born. Being manic is hard to describe to anyone who has not been there, but it is sort of like being in the eye of a storm. You know there is a storm, but you can't see it from where you are. I recognized that my behaviors were risky, impulsive, potentially disastrous, but I had no ability to stop them. I felt that I *had* to do what I was doing; it was compulsive, lacking any reference to the outside world (other than at least having sufficient self awareness to not broadcast everything I was doing to the world), and seemingly necessary. Even at the time, I remember thinking that if I *could* behave otherwise, I would. But my brain and my body were humming along at a million miles an hour. I slept two nights out of every five or six, and even then it was for a few hours. My thoughts raced, and in the absence of anything particular, it would revert to song lyrics on a loop. I could not turn it off or tune it out. The antidepressant I was prescribed after both kids were born (because of immediate anxiety issues after my first child was born) exacerbated all of this, but I had no way of knowing that. I believed that I had just managed to evade my genetic destiny (most members of my family struggle with mental illness and addiction), but now things had changed. I also truly, truly believed that what I was doing was necessary. It was what I needed to do in order to live the life I wanted. If you had asked me at the time to define what this life was that I wanted, I would not have really been able to tell you, other than some vague but intense declarations about freedom and happiness.
In retrospect, it all seems so obvious. Looking at clinical definitions of manic behavior is like looking at a snapshot of how I felt after the birth of both kids - with my second postpartum experience being much, much more intense. After my older son was born, I struggled with anxiety and then some impulsive, irrational behavior, but it was more controlled. The birth of my second child was almost immediate chaos. I had about two-three months of (what I now recognize as) a slow build to a manic break, and then the storm hit.
Why it never occurred to me to ask a medical professional about whether my behavior - so completely and utterly out of character for me in a million different ways - might have a better explanation than "you are an irredeemable monster who decimated a kind and good husband and missed crucial bonding time with both of your children just because," I do not know. I just know that for a very long time now (over three years), I have hated myself. I have hated myself for the infidelity, the dishonesty, the recklessness, the inability to be present with anyone, but especially my children, and I have hated myself for the way I hurt others, most particularly my ex-husband. I had no explanation, no justification, just a slag heap of self-loathing. No matter how many times I told my ex-husband that I was sorry, that it was all my fault, that he did nothing wrong, and that I was totally responsible for the end of our marriage, I knew it made no difference. Not to him and not to me.
I did not want my marriage to continue for many reasons, but I wished to God that it could have ended differently, without the bomb scarred no-man's land I created at the end.
And now I am told that there was a chemical reason for my actions - that I was clinically, diagnosable-y bonkers. I am not a horrible monster, but rather someone who fell into intense mental illness as a result of the postpartum hormone tidal wave and a mis-prescribed anti-depressant.
Does this feel good? It feels mostly like a relief. That is different from good. I am relieved that I can stop hating myself (or, at least, hate myself less). I am relieved that knowing this means it will very likely never happen again. The next possible time it could happen, since I am done having kids, is menopause, and knowing how hormonal shifts of that magnitude affect me, I can prepare and have medical professionals ready to help me if I start to shift into a manic phase. It does not feel good because I still did things that hurt people. Yes, there was a reason, and no, I am not a monster, but how much does that matter to the people you have hurt? Do the families of drunk driving victims feel less pain because they understand that alcoholics are suffering from a disease?
The only people who know about any of this so far are my psychiatrist, D (although I spared him a lot of detail about my exact behaviors because there seemed to be no need. I was honest about the infidelity and the manic-ness), and my mom. In order of detail, my psych knows everything, my mom knows less, and D knows the least, but given that I have never, ever told another human being any truth about what went on for me, telling my psych, D and my mom is a massive, massive step forward for me.
Eating disorders thrive in an atmosphere of secrecy, and I am hoping that allowing light into the part of my life that I am so overwhelmingly ashamed of, will allow me to bring light into the dark corners of binge eating, too. It has been 22 days since my last binge.
On the one hand, it is like being given a pardon for a life sentence. I was convinced that I was a terrible monster because of the way I behaved after both my kids were born. Being manic is hard to describe to anyone who has not been there, but it is sort of like being in the eye of a storm. You know there is a storm, but you can't see it from where you are. I recognized that my behaviors were risky, impulsive, potentially disastrous, but I had no ability to stop them. I felt that I *had* to do what I was doing; it was compulsive, lacking any reference to the outside world (other than at least having sufficient self awareness to not broadcast everything I was doing to the world), and seemingly necessary. Even at the time, I remember thinking that if I *could* behave otherwise, I would. But my brain and my body were humming along at a million miles an hour. I slept two nights out of every five or six, and even then it was for a few hours. My thoughts raced, and in the absence of anything particular, it would revert to song lyrics on a loop. I could not turn it off or tune it out. The antidepressant I was prescribed after both kids were born (because of immediate anxiety issues after my first child was born) exacerbated all of this, but I had no way of knowing that. I believed that I had just managed to evade my genetic destiny (most members of my family struggle with mental illness and addiction), but now things had changed. I also truly, truly believed that what I was doing was necessary. It was what I needed to do in order to live the life I wanted. If you had asked me at the time to define what this life was that I wanted, I would not have really been able to tell you, other than some vague but intense declarations about freedom and happiness.
In retrospect, it all seems so obvious. Looking at clinical definitions of manic behavior is like looking at a snapshot of how I felt after the birth of both kids - with my second postpartum experience being much, much more intense. After my older son was born, I struggled with anxiety and then some impulsive, irrational behavior, but it was more controlled. The birth of my second child was almost immediate chaos. I had about two-three months of (what I now recognize as) a slow build to a manic break, and then the storm hit.
Why it never occurred to me to ask a medical professional about whether my behavior - so completely and utterly out of character for me in a million different ways - might have a better explanation than "you are an irredeemable monster who decimated a kind and good husband and missed crucial bonding time with both of your children just because," I do not know. I just know that for a very long time now (over three years), I have hated myself. I have hated myself for the infidelity, the dishonesty, the recklessness, the inability to be present with anyone, but especially my children, and I have hated myself for the way I hurt others, most particularly my ex-husband. I had no explanation, no justification, just a slag heap of self-loathing. No matter how many times I told my ex-husband that I was sorry, that it was all my fault, that he did nothing wrong, and that I was totally responsible for the end of our marriage, I knew it made no difference. Not to him and not to me.
I did not want my marriage to continue for many reasons, but I wished to God that it could have ended differently, without the bomb scarred no-man's land I created at the end.
And now I am told that there was a chemical reason for my actions - that I was clinically, diagnosable-y bonkers. I am not a horrible monster, but rather someone who fell into intense mental illness as a result of the postpartum hormone tidal wave and a mis-prescribed anti-depressant.
Does this feel good? It feels mostly like a relief. That is different from good. I am relieved that I can stop hating myself (or, at least, hate myself less). I am relieved that knowing this means it will very likely never happen again. The next possible time it could happen, since I am done having kids, is menopause, and knowing how hormonal shifts of that magnitude affect me, I can prepare and have medical professionals ready to help me if I start to shift into a manic phase. It does not feel good because I still did things that hurt people. Yes, there was a reason, and no, I am not a monster, but how much does that matter to the people you have hurt? Do the families of drunk driving victims feel less pain because they understand that alcoholics are suffering from a disease?
The only people who know about any of this so far are my psychiatrist, D (although I spared him a lot of detail about my exact behaviors because there seemed to be no need. I was honest about the infidelity and the manic-ness), and my mom. In order of detail, my psych knows everything, my mom knows less, and D knows the least, but given that I have never, ever told another human being any truth about what went on for me, telling my psych, D and my mom is a massive, massive step forward for me.
Eating disorders thrive in an atmosphere of secrecy, and I am hoping that allowing light into the part of my life that I am so overwhelmingly ashamed of, will allow me to bring light into the dark corners of binge eating, too. It has been 22 days since my last binge.
Monday, May 30, 2016
Day three (of a sort)
We spent the Memorial Day weekend in Manitou Springs with the kids. It was a great weekend - great weather, the kids had a blast, and D and I got to spend time alone today hiking after we dropped the kids off with their dad.
And, as always, I was haunted by the specter of food and my body. As D and I walked though Colorado's beautiful summer woods, I obsessed about how fat I looked and how much I wished I had my old body back.
Am I tired of this? Yes. Am I addressing it? Yes. Is it enough to change my body or my mind? No. And hopefully that just means not yet.
I have been binge free for nearly three weeks. I cannot get too excited about this for two reasons. First, I have not been eating well during that time. Although I have managed to avoid complete food meltdowns, I have eaten too much nearly every day since my last binge. And, second, because I am afraid to think it is a trend and then find myself right back in the midst of a food tornado.
I still do not fit in virtually anything I own, and I spend far too much time loathing my body. I am trying very hard to "eat like a normal person" and, in so far as a normal person does not binge, I am accomplishing this. In the last few days, I have even managed to "eat like a normal person" in the sense of not eating more (or, at least, many more) calories than I need to maintain myself at this weight.
I have set a goal for myself of continuing to hit a caloric goal of somewhere below 1800 cals. I have not set an exact number because that is guaranteed to set off a binge: if I have a goal, and I miss it, I will just decide to screw it and eat all the cookies in the world. I am marking my calendar with a simple check mark if I manage to hit the goal. I am not doing exact tracking (weighing and measuring food, for instance) because, again, that kind of specificity tends to bring out my worst all-or-nothing tendencies. I am doing my best to estimate and erring on the side of higher than lower.
I will also be putting a second check mark on the calendar when I exercise that day. I am nervous about this because, again, my all-or-nothing mentality surrounding exercise means that anything less than sixty minutes of truly sweaty activity is not my definition of exercise, and I don't want to sabotage myself by demanding perfection for the stupid check mark. I just want to move. A walk, a run, a swim, hike, bike ride: I want all of these to count and I do not want to dismiss any of those as not being "worth it" (which, of course, I define by calories burned) and then end up doing nothing.
We will see how this goes.
I have a few things coming up that I would like to enjoy, and that I would enjoy so much more if I was more comfortable with my body. We have a family trip to San Diego (D, me, my kids, his kids, his parents) in the middle of August and I have a high school reunion at the end of September. Of course, I really wanted to have dealt with my body stuff by the wedding and that didn't happen...
Focusing on the positive and not beating myself up is definitely a struggle for me. I am working on it, but most of the time I just want to scream: eat less, move more! It is not rocket science; it is not cancer or civil war or social injustice.
And if that helped, I would look and feel a lot differently.
And, as always, I was haunted by the specter of food and my body. As D and I walked though Colorado's beautiful summer woods, I obsessed about how fat I looked and how much I wished I had my old body back.
Am I tired of this? Yes. Am I addressing it? Yes. Is it enough to change my body or my mind? No. And hopefully that just means not yet.
I have been binge free for nearly three weeks. I cannot get too excited about this for two reasons. First, I have not been eating well during that time. Although I have managed to avoid complete food meltdowns, I have eaten too much nearly every day since my last binge. And, second, because I am afraid to think it is a trend and then find myself right back in the midst of a food tornado.
I still do not fit in virtually anything I own, and I spend far too much time loathing my body. I am trying very hard to "eat like a normal person" and, in so far as a normal person does not binge, I am accomplishing this. In the last few days, I have even managed to "eat like a normal person" in the sense of not eating more (or, at least, many more) calories than I need to maintain myself at this weight.
I have set a goal for myself of continuing to hit a caloric goal of somewhere below 1800 cals. I have not set an exact number because that is guaranteed to set off a binge: if I have a goal, and I miss it, I will just decide to screw it and eat all the cookies in the world. I am marking my calendar with a simple check mark if I manage to hit the goal. I am not doing exact tracking (weighing and measuring food, for instance) because, again, that kind of specificity tends to bring out my worst all-or-nothing tendencies. I am doing my best to estimate and erring on the side of higher than lower.
I will also be putting a second check mark on the calendar when I exercise that day. I am nervous about this because, again, my all-or-nothing mentality surrounding exercise means that anything less than sixty minutes of truly sweaty activity is not my definition of exercise, and I don't want to sabotage myself by demanding perfection for the stupid check mark. I just want to move. A walk, a run, a swim, hike, bike ride: I want all of these to count and I do not want to dismiss any of those as not being "worth it" (which, of course, I define by calories burned) and then end up doing nothing.
We will see how this goes.
I have a few things coming up that I would like to enjoy, and that I would enjoy so much more if I was more comfortable with my body. We have a family trip to San Diego (D, me, my kids, his kids, his parents) in the middle of August and I have a high school reunion at the end of September. Of course, I really wanted to have dealt with my body stuff by the wedding and that didn't happen...
Focusing on the positive and not beating myself up is definitely a struggle for me. I am working on it, but most of the time I just want to scream: eat less, move more! It is not rocket science; it is not cancer or civil war or social injustice.
And if that helped, I would look and feel a lot differently.
Monday, May 23, 2016
Day Two
The aftermath. My husband (!) and I woke up this morning to discover that my older son (8) had thrown up extensively and dramatically all over himself and his bed at some point in the night. This was the result of his consuming 800 cupcakes, drinking as much soda as he could find, and running around with his friends during the post-wedding party. We also had a bounce house which probably did not aid his digestion. We also have no idea where my car keys are (the party was at our house, so it's not like anyone was driving my car).
Once we got everything cleaned up, I headed off to my psychiatrist for our third meeting. At the end of the meeting, based on everything we have discussed over our last few sessions, and after having taken my family history of mental illness and substance abuse, she tentatively suggested that I have been struggling with bipolar disorder. I was unaware of this, but apparently latent bipolar disorder can be catalyzed by hormonal shifts or surges (such as happens after a pregnancy). I am not ready, yet, to discuss my particular story after both of my kids were born, but suffice it to say that a bipolar diagnosis, while surprising on some level, was not completely out of left field.
In many ways, actually, it came as a bit of a relief. There are a lot of things that went on in the year or so after my older son was born, and then again in the first two years after my younger son was born, that were so wildly uncharacteristic for me, and that I have been punishing myself for, that to hear that I may have been suffering from a diagnosable condition made me feel like perhaps I was not the total monster I believed myself to be.
So, there is that and I will be learning more about that at my next appointment in about a week.
The "bad news" (the above was not good news), is that my binge eating is not necessarily linked to bipolar disorder. This means that I will have to address it separately, and that scares me because I worry about time. What if we don't get around to addressing it for a while, and I get worse?
The weekend was not a complete disaster on the eating front. I did not eat well. I did not eat at meal times in reasonable amounts (either too much or too little), but I did not binge. Today was probably a D range day in this regard. I have not eaten much other food, but I did skip out on an in-law family outing (one that, in complete honesty, I would have skipped out on regardless) and came home and ate about five cookies left over from the wedding dessert bar. I am not qualifying this as a binge because it lacked the crazed, compulsive feeling and it was stoppable. I did, eventually, just walk away from the cookies. And, at least for the moment, the presence of the cookie box is not singing a siren song to me.
I am hoping that at my next meeting with my psychiatrist I can get a better sense of the bipolar question, and determine if that requires medication (perhaps not since it seems very distinctly triggered by postpartum and I will not be having any more kids).
Once we got everything cleaned up, I headed off to my psychiatrist for our third meeting. At the end of the meeting, based on everything we have discussed over our last few sessions, and after having taken my family history of mental illness and substance abuse, she tentatively suggested that I have been struggling with bipolar disorder. I was unaware of this, but apparently latent bipolar disorder can be catalyzed by hormonal shifts or surges (such as happens after a pregnancy). I am not ready, yet, to discuss my particular story after both of my kids were born, but suffice it to say that a bipolar diagnosis, while surprising on some level, was not completely out of left field.
In many ways, actually, it came as a bit of a relief. There are a lot of things that went on in the year or so after my older son was born, and then again in the first two years after my younger son was born, that were so wildly uncharacteristic for me, and that I have been punishing myself for, that to hear that I may have been suffering from a diagnosable condition made me feel like perhaps I was not the total monster I believed myself to be.
So, there is that and I will be learning more about that at my next appointment in about a week.
The "bad news" (the above was not good news), is that my binge eating is not necessarily linked to bipolar disorder. This means that I will have to address it separately, and that scares me because I worry about time. What if we don't get around to addressing it for a while, and I get worse?
The weekend was not a complete disaster on the eating front. I did not eat well. I did not eat at meal times in reasonable amounts (either too much or too little), but I did not binge. Today was probably a D range day in this regard. I have not eaten much other food, but I did skip out on an in-law family outing (one that, in complete honesty, I would have skipped out on regardless) and came home and ate about five cookies left over from the wedding dessert bar. I am not qualifying this as a binge because it lacked the crazed, compulsive feeling and it was stoppable. I did, eventually, just walk away from the cookies. And, at least for the moment, the presence of the cookie box is not singing a siren song to me.
I am hoping that at my next meeting with my psychiatrist I can get a better sense of the bipolar question, and determine if that requires medication (perhaps not since it seems very distinctly triggered by postpartum and I will not be having any more kids).
Day One
I got married yesterday. It should have been one of the best days of my life. Instead, I spent a great deal of the day hating my body and obsessing over how I would look in pictures. Opening Facebook was an exercise in self-loathing as it revealed picture after picture of a body I would prefer to believe I do not have.
Two and a half years ago, at 5' 6" I weighed roughly 130 lbs. Today I weigh 156 lbs. I gained most of this weight in a eight month period, which works out to about a four pound a month rate.
In order to gain at that rate, something really has to be going on. It is hard to eat the extra 14,000 calories a month one needs to consume in order to gain 4 lbs/month (3500 calories = 1 lb). The way that I have accomplished this is binge eating.
I wish I had the first clue why or how this started. I did not just wake up one day and make a conscious decision to eat all the cookies in Denver, though that is how it feels like it happened.
I met the man I married yesterday right before Thanksgiving 2013. Although my divorce from my first husband had only been formalized in October of the same year, he and I had been separated and living apart since late September 2012. During the intensely difficult period between June 2012 and November 2013, when my marriage fell apart, I moved out of our house, and tried not to panic that I had destroyed my two children' lives (they were one and four at the time), I did not turn to food. In fact, I barely even thought about it. More accurately, I thought about it as often as a normal person thinks about food; that is, I ate when I was hungry and the rest of the time thought about and did other things.
Some time right around the start of 2014, my relationship to food took a dramatic turn. By May 2014, I had gained twenty pounds (approximately five pounds a month, or an extra 17,500 calories per month). My older son celebrated his 5th birthday in June 2014. His birthday cake was left at my house after the party, and I ate nearly 2/3 of his cake by myself in a matter of hours. This was the first time I truly registered the scale of my consumption, but even then, I told myself it was an odd, but surely non-repeatable experience. In the months preceding, I was binging, but I really thought of it as controllable: I was just having these unusual moments, but I would get it together and it would go away.
Since May 2014, I have lost and gained the same 5-8 lbs over and over and over again. Each time follows the same predictable pattern: I will binge, experience the usual disgust, self loathing and despair that comes with eating past the point of discomfort; I will promise myself that tomorrow I will get my life back; the next day, I will start logging my food and counting points or calories, and I will exercise nearly every day. This will last from anywhere from a few days to two weeks. Inevitably, I drive to Whole Foods and buy just one or two chocolate chip cookies. And, inevitably, those two cookies cascade into a caloric waterfall, and all of the good work I have done in the preceding days is undone in a single binge.
In the last few months, I have made myself throw up three times. I have tried several other times.
I am tired. I am tired of hating my body. I am tired of hating myself for my lack of discipline, my weakness, and my failure. I am tired of thinking of nothing else but food (or its absence) and my body. I am tired of missing out on so much of my life because my thoughts are consumed by calories and adipose tissue and how much I hate my stomach.
About two weeks ago, I fell apart and called my primary care physician. In tears, I tried to explain to her that I needed help. She gave me a list of psychiatrists, and I made calls. I am desperate to believe that this will finally be the end of all of this.
Two and a half years ago, at 5' 6" I weighed roughly 130 lbs. Today I weigh 156 lbs. I gained most of this weight in a eight month period, which works out to about a four pound a month rate.
In order to gain at that rate, something really has to be going on. It is hard to eat the extra 14,000 calories a month one needs to consume in order to gain 4 lbs/month (3500 calories = 1 lb). The way that I have accomplished this is binge eating.
I wish I had the first clue why or how this started. I did not just wake up one day and make a conscious decision to eat all the cookies in Denver, though that is how it feels like it happened.
I met the man I married yesterday right before Thanksgiving 2013. Although my divorce from my first husband had only been formalized in October of the same year, he and I had been separated and living apart since late September 2012. During the intensely difficult period between June 2012 and November 2013, when my marriage fell apart, I moved out of our house, and tried not to panic that I had destroyed my two children' lives (they were one and four at the time), I did not turn to food. In fact, I barely even thought about it. More accurately, I thought about it as often as a normal person thinks about food; that is, I ate when I was hungry and the rest of the time thought about and did other things.
Some time right around the start of 2014, my relationship to food took a dramatic turn. By May 2014, I had gained twenty pounds (approximately five pounds a month, or an extra 17,500 calories per month). My older son celebrated his 5th birthday in June 2014. His birthday cake was left at my house after the party, and I ate nearly 2/3 of his cake by myself in a matter of hours. This was the first time I truly registered the scale of my consumption, but even then, I told myself it was an odd, but surely non-repeatable experience. In the months preceding, I was binging, but I really thought of it as controllable: I was just having these unusual moments, but I would get it together and it would go away.
Since May 2014, I have lost and gained the same 5-8 lbs over and over and over again. Each time follows the same predictable pattern: I will binge, experience the usual disgust, self loathing and despair that comes with eating past the point of discomfort; I will promise myself that tomorrow I will get my life back; the next day, I will start logging my food and counting points or calories, and I will exercise nearly every day. This will last from anywhere from a few days to two weeks. Inevitably, I drive to Whole Foods and buy just one or two chocolate chip cookies. And, inevitably, those two cookies cascade into a caloric waterfall, and all of the good work I have done in the preceding days is undone in a single binge.
In the last few months, I have made myself throw up three times. I have tried several other times.
I am tired. I am tired of hating my body. I am tired of hating myself for my lack of discipline, my weakness, and my failure. I am tired of thinking of nothing else but food (or its absence) and my body. I am tired of missing out on so much of my life because my thoughts are consumed by calories and adipose tissue and how much I hate my stomach.
About two weeks ago, I fell apart and called my primary care physician. In tears, I tried to explain to her that I needed help. She gave me a list of psychiatrists, and I made calls. I am desperate to believe that this will finally be the end of all of this.
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