"Blythe got up, put on her dressing gown and accepted that today was a brand new day"
Golly, 3 posts in 3 days. Clearly I am a bit rattled ;)
After waxing lyrical about my ‘plan’ that I follow in the week at work. I thought it only right and fair to balance this out with just how spectacularly I can fall off the wagon when I don’t have enough to do. I’ve mentioned many a time what a nemesis the TV is for me and any semblance of my eating in a controlled way. Well, yesterday I not only fell off the wagon, but, I was dragged screaming behind it for a good couple of miles, hitting every boulder on the way!
So here we go again … let me recap. I have an addiction. I am a food addict. The learned doctors labelled me with the diagnosis of ‘Binge Eating Disorder’ many moons ago. This, in layman’s terms means that I eat over and above what a ‘normal’ person would eat in one sitting but, I don’t purge (get rid of the food and/or calories) as someone with Bulimia would. I personally feel that many, if not the majority of people with chronic obesity have the same disorder.
Along with this compulsion that I have to binge, I am afraid that I suffer with what I can only describe as ‘black and white’ or concrete thinking with regards to food and exercise. In other areas of my life I am as flexible as a Russian Olympic gymnast. With food, I can be ritualistic, negative and completely self-destructive. As a therapist by profession, I am often filled with feelings of hypocrisy that I have difficulty in getting ‘my own house in order’ when I am able to facilitate my patients and families to reach their goals, despite them being extremely poorly. The plus side to this, I guess, is that I have the insight of my professional knowledge to use on myself when I feel emotionally robust enough to do so.
So what happened? Well, the day started off well enough. I was up early, wrote up my blog, showered and dressed, read the papers and then had a walk up to my mom’s house for a brunch-time smoothie. I had intended to stay on liquids for the day as my ribs felt like someone had punched me in them after the boiled egg incident the day before. I had a lovely time with my mom, as I always do and, on the way home, I incorporated my normal route power-walk. I didn’t attempt any running today – just didn’t think my poor bust would be able to take it ;)
I got home and Jack was around at a friend’s watching the football. I was invited to go but, ironically didn’t want to as they always try and feed us with naughty crapola. So that left me with the house to myself. It was at this point that the crapola devil appeared on my left shoulder, whispering sweet nothings in my ear. Funnily enough, St Bandy, the guardian angel of weight loss surgery who normally resides on my right shoulder, was clearly having an off-day. The battle between good and evil was a brief one and the crapola devil knocked St Bandy out in the opening seconds of the initial round.
Now, the house had no crapola in it that I could eat. Sure, there were plenty of Jack’s coffee cakes and Battenberg but, of course they are purchased deliberately because I hate them. So, by now in full-on, ‘planning a binge’ mode, I toddle off to the local shop. I bought everything that was wrong. Things that would go through the band without too much bother, uhuh, that’s right, all that highly processed, high fat, high sugar nonsense.
I then proceeded to eat as much of it as I could, yes I slimed a couple of times, but blow me if I didn’t just keep going. I wasn’t able to eat anywhere near as much as I would have pre-band but, the intentions and the calories were still there.
I fell into bed on a complete, brain addled, sugar induced ‘high’ and woke this morning with those, all to familiar feelings of shame, disappointment and anger at myself for being so weak willed. However, this is where the work needs to be done. Ordinarily, pre-band, I would be on this binge journey for days, weeks, even months, having been dieting successfully and then falling off the wagon. In this time all the weight lost would go back on and the cycle of despair (melodramatic, moi?) would start all over again. This is how the band seems to help me now. I am able to dust myself off and get back in the saddle again so much more quickly. Yes, my head is telling me this morning to eat nothing but dust and water for a week to counteract the damage but, I am going to be sensible. I have put the remainder of the crapola in a carrier bag, opened all of the packets and poured washing up liquid all over it. It’s a waste but, it’s the only way I know to stop myself from obsessing over it and getting it out of the bin and eating it.
I am telling myself that today is a day independent of the events of yesterday. I am erasing yesterday from my mind now. Today I will nourish my body with wholesome foods and strengthen it with exercise that I actually enjoy. That means no running (don’t actually enjoy it and am only doing it because I feel forced to run The Race for Life in June) and just power-walking which I do find pleasurable.
I am going to sort out our office/grown-up’s playroom. There’s a set of bookshelves that should keep me busy for a few hours.
So the struggle continues. Onwards and downwards.
After waxing lyrical about my ‘plan’ that I follow in the week at work. I thought it only right and fair to balance this out with just how spectacularly I can fall off the wagon when I don’t have enough to do. I’ve mentioned many a time what a nemesis the TV is for me and any semblance of my eating in a controlled way. Well, yesterday I not only fell off the wagon, but, I was dragged screaming behind it for a good couple of miles, hitting every boulder on the way!
So here we go again … let me recap. I have an addiction. I am a food addict. The learned doctors labelled me with the diagnosis of ‘Binge Eating Disorder’ many moons ago. This, in layman’s terms means that I eat over and above what a ‘normal’ person would eat in one sitting but, I don’t purge (get rid of the food and/or calories) as someone with Bulimia would. I personally feel that many, if not the majority of people with chronic obesity have the same disorder.
Along with this compulsion that I have to binge, I am afraid that I suffer with what I can only describe as ‘black and white’ or concrete thinking with regards to food and exercise. In other areas of my life I am as flexible as a Russian Olympic gymnast. With food, I can be ritualistic, negative and completely self-destructive. As a therapist by profession, I am often filled with feelings of hypocrisy that I have difficulty in getting ‘my own house in order’ when I am able to facilitate my patients and families to reach their goals, despite them being extremely poorly. The plus side to this, I guess, is that I have the insight of my professional knowledge to use on myself when I feel emotionally robust enough to do so.
So what happened? Well, the day started off well enough. I was up early, wrote up my blog, showered and dressed, read the papers and then had a walk up to my mom’s house for a brunch-time smoothie. I had intended to stay on liquids for the day as my ribs felt like someone had punched me in them after the boiled egg incident the day before. I had a lovely time with my mom, as I always do and, on the way home, I incorporated my normal route power-walk. I didn’t attempt any running today – just didn’t think my poor bust would be able to take it ;)
I got home and Jack was around at a friend’s watching the football. I was invited to go but, ironically didn’t want to as they always try and feed us with naughty crapola. So that left me with the house to myself. It was at this point that the crapola devil appeared on my left shoulder, whispering sweet nothings in my ear. Funnily enough, St Bandy, the guardian angel of weight loss surgery who normally resides on my right shoulder, was clearly having an off-day. The battle between good and evil was a brief one and the crapola devil knocked St Bandy out in the opening seconds of the initial round.
Now, the house had no crapola in it that I could eat. Sure, there were plenty of Jack’s coffee cakes and Battenberg but, of course they are purchased deliberately because I hate them. So, by now in full-on, ‘planning a binge’ mode, I toddle off to the local shop. I bought everything that was wrong. Things that would go through the band without too much bother, uhuh, that’s right, all that highly processed, high fat, high sugar nonsense.
I then proceeded to eat as much of it as I could, yes I slimed a couple of times, but blow me if I didn’t just keep going. I wasn’t able to eat anywhere near as much as I would have pre-band but, the intentions and the calories were still there.
I fell into bed on a complete, brain addled, sugar induced ‘high’ and woke this morning with those, all to familiar feelings of shame, disappointment and anger at myself for being so weak willed. However, this is where the work needs to be done. Ordinarily, pre-band, I would be on this binge journey for days, weeks, even months, having been dieting successfully and then falling off the wagon. In this time all the weight lost would go back on and the cycle of despair (melodramatic, moi?) would start all over again. This is how the band seems to help me now. I am able to dust myself off and get back in the saddle again so much more quickly. Yes, my head is telling me this morning to eat nothing but dust and water for a week to counteract the damage but, I am going to be sensible. I have put the remainder of the crapola in a carrier bag, opened all of the packets and poured washing up liquid all over it. It’s a waste but, it’s the only way I know to stop myself from obsessing over it and getting it out of the bin and eating it.
I am telling myself that today is a day independent of the events of yesterday. I am erasing yesterday from my mind now. Today I will nourish my body with wholesome foods and strengthen it with exercise that I actually enjoy. That means no running (don’t actually enjoy it and am only doing it because I feel forced to run The Race for Life in June) and just power-walking which I do find pleasurable.
I am going to sort out our office/grown-up’s playroom. There’s a set of bookshelves that should keep me busy for a few hours.
So the struggle continues. Onwards and downwards.
4 comments:
Never mind chicken, tomorrow is another day and as you say, its not as bad as it would have been before, so no major damage done. At least you recognise this in yourself and can take steps to avoid it when possible but don't beat yourself up over it. You're doing great and will continue to do so.
Mind you, as I've said before, I wish I could eat what you do when you're being GOOD, let alone when you slip off the wagon!! Have so far today had a portion of Oatsosimple!! I have a butternut, leek and goats cheese crumble (don't ask!) in the oven and will be interested to see if I can manage any of it!! Actually, its quite good that I can't eat much coz I tend to eat when I'm depressed and right now I'm on the floor again, so thank goodness for Mr.Band eh?
Lots of love
Keep smiling
Suzanne xx
Hi
Don't forget how well you have done, long-term. As you know I had my first fill and was in soup for 7-10 days but have slowly started re-introducing 'sloppies' but of course 'crappies' have slipped in as well. I make myself so angry but just can't stop. I have also started the gym and weight loss has decreased, I have been given the old 'muscle weighs more' tripe and now feel thoroughly demotivated but like you said we must stick with it and treat each day as the first.
Take care
Tractorgirl x
You could be writing about me.
Dont froget the terrific journey you have already covered and view these times as temporary hiccups.
Love the blog
You are an inspiration. Please feel that you are a success. I won't bore you with my traumas as you are a winner. Remember the hare and the tortoise.
Ali xx
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