I lost it and it's all Kevin Costner's fault

Victoria Wood and Julie Walters discussing diet and exercise esp in relation to a fat woman they both know.

VW: "You have to clench your buttocks"

JW: "Well she couldn't clench her's. It'd take two strong men and a wheelbarrow!"

Ok. I just thought I'd cheer you up before yet another depressing post.

Firstly, I have no internet connection. There has been a cable problem for the last 4 days and Virgin STILL haven't fixed it. They ain't rushing. I really hope they sort it out soon. I just can't face Christmas with no connection. The first day I was so depressed. I felt cut off. I wanted to know what you were all up to! Seriously it has made me miserable. I miss you all so much. After all, who else is going to wish me better when I am ill? Only you, dear bloggers.

Then there's the cold. It's very cold here and my heating won't come on for some unknown reason. I have a fan heater but it is fanning more than it is heating. The massive air circulation is a bit draughty. I do have another little heater which was great at heating. In fact so great that its heating capabilities extended to burning up the plug and melting the socket it was plugged into.

Finally I worked out that I could go to Argos and buy a new little heater to tide me over. Except I can't cope with the Argos in town. It's in a busy shopping centre and Christmas week? I'll be waiting in there with a million other people. Then (cogs turning very slowly folks!) I worked out I could go to the out of town one. This was Sat 6pm and I thought maybe it is still open? But I couldn't check because I have no internet. So I thought fine, I'll go tomorrow. And then I managed not to do anything on Sunday. At all.

So, I was freezing, frozen to the bone cold, very lonely without my internet connection, struggling to breathe - I feel like I need someone to just put a tube down my throat and suck out all the gunk (sorry). I have a big booming cough that signals to the whole neighbourhood that I'm ill. But at least my earache is just twinges now and then.

Anyway, you know how it is when life is heaping it on you ... well I usually find that's just the very best time to start thinking about how I have completely cocked up everything this year. And why stop there? Surely there is more rubbish I can dredge up to make myself feel even worse? You betcha. Christmas on my own? Always a good one. I could go on here but I don't want to lose you to despair, dear reader.

I happened to be watching Dances With Wolves. I've never watched it before (yes, how late am I?) And just as my own shit is seriously getting on top of me, they have to go and bloody shoot the wolf. I COMPLETELY LOST IT. Bucket loads of tears followed by the inevitable suicidal thoughts.

So somehow I got myself together and went to the shop round the corner. I think you know what's coming.

I recognised that I was giving myself permission to binge because, "Who cares when I'm going to kill myself anyway?" But even though I could see this, it didn't stop me.

It wasn't the worst binge in the world. Only because I have largely been off rich food. I have no cravings for very sugary things - so no packets of Mr Kipling cakes. Or anything in bulk. This is because my digestive system has been out of whack the whole time I have been ill.

I have been unable to eat to plan because I couldn't eat my usual fish and veg. I have been eating carbs at every meal. I felt like my innards needed something to hold onto. So I've been eating only porridge and dry carbs. Because the drier something is when it goes in, the drier it'll be when ... yes, OK, you get the picture.

I have been eating pitta bread a lot. Why? I have no idea. I HATE PITTA BREAD. Here's how they make pitta - they take some sawdust and the dried out contents of a hamster cage, grind it up and mix in with a little wholemeal flour, yeast and water. They put it through a mangle to squeeze the life out of it, then bake it. Finally, just to make sure there really is no life left in the damn thing, it gets mangled yet again.

Then they seal it in plastic and the percentage of sawdust means it'll have a shelf life of about 6 months. Cos how can it go off if it's completely dried out dead already?

If I bought a sliced loaf, even if it was the biggest loaf you'd ever seen, it would be gone in 2 days. A packet of 6 pitta can easily last a week.

I am safe with pitta.

But that still doesn't explain why I have been into them recently.

The ONLY thing they have in their favour is that you have to put either salad or banana in there. Otherwise all you can taste is sawdust and hamster scrapings. Therefore, the possible combinations of filling I do are fairly healthy. And I think over the last 2 weeks I've pretty well covered them all.

Saturday night and Sunday involved Bad Eating. But blimey, I was hot! Yes, a minuscule number of those calories were successfully converted to heat. But I think most landed on my thighs. I DO NOT NEED ANYMORE ON BOARD INSULATION THANK YOU VERY MUCH.

***

The above was written yesterday which was a good eating day, involving ground rice porridge for breakfast, 2 meals with pitta bread and 2 snacks. Then I managed a monumental fail in an entirely different direction, but I'll save that for another post.

If you are reading this it's because I am connecting via wi-fi from a neighbouring building. If I am late commenting or responding to emails it's because I can only pick up my neighbour's wi-fi intermittently. Hopefully the cable will be sorted out very soon.

PS Sorry for the lack of Christmas spirit!　

　

　

Personality

Hi Guys. I'm sorry I was unable to comment on your blogs yesterday. I slipped into a severe depression and although I read everyone's blogs I didn't feel able to formulate any responses. Hopefully normal service will be resumed as soon as possible. I hope to be able to leave some comments later today.

Thank you for all the long comments you left to the last post. I love long comments! The longer the better - because that is how this thing works. The more feedback I get the more I have to think about and the more I can learn - about myself and about life in general. I really appreciate the time people take to to respond to my issues.

The most striking thing from the last post was the fact that everyone else thinks I have a personality! I have to tell you that whenever I have said to anyone who has been treating me that I feel I have no personality, they have assured me that they don't see me in that way at all.

The difference here is between looking at someone from the outside and feeling how it is to be a person on the inside.

Once, when I was doing a group session with a load of other women a few years ago I said to them that I knew it would sound weird, but that I was not a person to myself. I didn't expect anyone to understand what the hell I was talking about because no-one had ever seemed to up to that point. I was surprised when one of the other women said that she knew what I meant because she felt she was "a nobody" as well; that she had no personality, was no-one.

Had I realised this person felt the same? No.

In my head I had put together a picture of this person based on the way she presented herself, the clothes she wore, everything she said and how she said it - how she had brought up her children, her relationships with men, the way she described her life. To me she was a fully formed being who seemed consistent within herself.

We all formulate a schemata for every person we meet, build up a picture of them based on their interactions with us and how they present themselves generally. Our assumption when doing this is that the person does have a particular personality, that they are consistent in their thinking and behaviour, and that their outward behaviour very much reflects their inner personality.

These are very big assumptions to make, but also of course necessary for us to function effectively and safely in the world - they are cognitive shortcuts for summing up and assessing other people. And generally they are correct.

However, research does show that we view other people as being more consistent than we are ourselves. This is just because we have far more data to go on when considering ourselves. For example, with ourselves, we may see we are extrovert in some situations - ie situations where we are more confident, and introverted in other situations. Whereas we are more likely to view other people as extrovert or introverted.

So, even though you have only my written words to go on, it's not surprising that you have formulated some sort of consistent schemata for me.

I'm talking a lot about consistency here. But I don't feel inconsistent within myself on a day to day basis.

What I mainly feel is that I do not have an integrated personality. My psyche is in pieces, is fragmented, and my brain has to work very hard trying to hold the pieces together. This is why I find it so difficult to do anything very much. Because my brain doesn't have very much energy left over to spare. It takes so much energy to hold together a shattered psyche. It now occurs to me that what other people see (or read) is the result of the pieces being held together - the brain's desperate attempt to present to itself (let alone the rest of the world) a fully functioning being.

The most frustrating thing is that every so often I feel my self becoming "whole" again but it never lasts very long. The status quo always falls apart again. It never "works" somehow. And every time it does fall apart, I'm devastated. And very frightened.

Being in pieces, especially newly fragmented after a period of apparent wholeness, is very frightening. It's like living with no solid ground beneath you. The whole shebang can just fall apart at any moment.

Now, looking back over your comments and the emails I've exchanged with people, I see there is some sort of "backstop" there. In large part this is the body of knowledge I've built up from all my experiences as a mentally ill person. All the pain I've felt, the lack of security, the instability (which no-one else ever seems to perceive annoyingly!), the humiliation and shame of mental illness - a lot of which comes from knowing I can't cope with life as other people can, that my brain can't concentrate on anything else other than trying to hold myself together, all the coping mechanisms I've developed at different times for different problems and scenarios, all the conversations I've had with other mentally ill people on how they view things and how they cope, all the therapy I've been through - may have been useless at solving the problem, but it was interesting to get different perspectives.

I've learnt a lot being ill - through my own illness and other people's. About the dynamics of how people are f*cked up by others. The apparently small interactions with others which can have a huge impact. How psyches are developed and melded, and fall apart. How the mind can travel through endless cycles of rising and falling mood, comprehending and non-comprehending one's life, periods of time where a person is coping alternating with periods where the person is struggling.

Ultimately we are all put together and formed in the same way, by the same means. We all have better and worse times in our lives. So this knowledge can be applied to anyone - because the mentally ill are like everyone else, only more so.


The only instability that other people do perceive of course is my weight going up and down. Some people I know will be able to make the connection between my weight rising and increased depression. But I guess that to most people I am simply a yo-yo dieter or failed dieter. They don't know that I am a binge eater/ compulsive eater with a history of eating disorders - it's not something I would tell very many people. But as Jack Sh*t said to one of Diane's posts, "secret" eating - the world's worst kept secret.

I see my weight fluctuations as a visible sign of the state of my mind, and as a sign that I am incapable of coping with life. A far greater sign of failure in life than simply a failure of willpower or failure to stick to a diet plan, or failure to make good choices. I see it as a fundamental failure of personality.

This makes my weight a hugely loaded issue for me. I just have to keep reminding myself that most people in the street do not perceive any of this. But in my own head I cannot separate my mental illness from my weight because they are indeed intimately connected.

To a certain extent most people view their personality as being tied up with their appearance. Which is why weight loss can have such a profound effect on a person's view of themselves and consequently on their life. It's no wonder then that issues surrounding a person's weight are so ... er, weighty. It's always about far more than carrying around some excess poundage.

"Toxic brain dump"

Leslie (of Something Brilliant is Brewing), "toxic brain dump"? I'll give you toxic brain dump! It doesn't get more toxic than the stuff here, so if you're feeling bad already, then please DON'T READ IT. I wrote it yesterday as just an outpouring and didn't dare post it because it's just C*R*A*P in the sense of crap going round in my brain. But it's also my life story of the the last decade. It's an example of the thinking and thought processes of a depressed person - hence all the repetition. But this doesn't mean there's tons of distortion there. It is actually the truth. This is me.

The X referred to lower down was a man I met and fell in love with before my breakdown in 2000. The failure of that relationship was a major factor in the breakdown.

I've thought recently that I had reached a place of acceptance of my illness but I see from reading this that that is not really the case. I am just in a terminal quiet despair over it.

I apologise in advance for what you are about to read. SORRY.

***

What is bingeing about? For me it's a stepping out of reality. When I binge the calorie content doesn't matter. I can consume vast amounts and there are no consequences for that. Of course there are consequences - but at the time of buying and consumption in my head there are no consequences.

Why do I need to step out of reality? Because reality is too shit. My reality is horrible. My life is a big nothing. A big stressful nothing. I am nothing. Nothing except a failure. A permanent mental health patient who can't hold it together for any length of time. Stuck in inadequate accommodation. No way of ever earning any money ever again. No marriage or kids. No job. No home of my own. My circumstances are grim indeed and it will only get worse as I get older. Because I am under 40 I still have a sliver of hope that any of these things may yet happen. But get past 40 and none of those things will ever happen. That's why I don't think I will live far beyond 40. Because I'll have no hope then. So time is running out for me on this earth.

And yet I spend my days wasting them away with bingeing and not leaving the house. If you had only a short amount of time left on this earth - less than 5 years I am certain - if you were given less than 5 years to live what would you do with the time? Chuck the diet in that's for sure! What else? Travel the world? Spend the time achieving something you always wanted to do before it's too late? I'm sure you'd have a list. I don't have anything I want to do or achieve before I die. That's how unconnected with life I've become. I am like an amoeba. Brainless and intellectually and emotionally numb. A big blob of nothing.

And bingeing is just reflecting or covering up the pain.

The only things I do in life are binge for a while and then diet for a while. I feel like that is all I've done for the last few years. Trapped in this endless cycle.

Of course, when I'm dieting and improving my health and fitness I feel like I'm on an "up", however painful and miserable it is - and the process does cause me to cry a lot. But at least I'm doing something to improve my situation. At least I have a goal, an aim in life. A reason to exist - even if it is only to lose weight. My life is planned around that - food that I'm eating, when I eat, cooking the food. The exercise - walking takes up a lot of time. It feels virtuous. It feels like I'm doing some good. And of course it's undeniable that it's better to be out walking than sat at home. It's better to eat veg and feel healthy than to be stuffing endless amounts of rubbish down myself and feel terrible.

But basically, overall, what am I achieving with my life? If I cut out the bingeing and subsequent necessary dieting, what then? What would be left then?

I have no other achievable goals. I'd like to get a job, but my levels of anxiety and depression make that impossible. I'd like to have got married and had kids but I've never met anyone and have few opportunities to do that now. And who would have me now? I'm a dead loss. I can't earn any money. And in this country at least, no man wants a woman who can't earn money. I tried internet dating but the only men I met were complete non-starters. If they weren't complete non-starters they'd be able to get a girlfriend. And if I weren't complete non-starter I'd be able to get a boyfriend.

I'd like to live somewhere nice but I can't afford it so I'm trapped here.

I can't see anything else I could achieve or do with my life apart from this horrid cycle.

Everyone needs to feel they can achieve something, that there is a reason for them to exist. Many people suffering severe totally incapacitating mental illness which they know is never going to end - like schizophrenia or bi-polar disorder - see the battle for psychological survival in itself as the meaning of their existence. And I did myself for the first year after my first breakdown. Because just to survive that year for me, when I was in such mental chaos and there was no help for me in terms of tablets or a diagnosis that pointed to a specific treatment (my diagnosis has only ever been "depressed after a breakdown"), was an achievement in itself. Every day was an achievement just to get through it. But since then I have got used to this hell. I am not in mental chaos anymore. Just total despair. I exist between this and numbness, because generally it's too upsetting to think about the reality of my situation, all the things I can't have and can't achieve any more. In fact the only good times in the time since my breakdown, almost 9 years ago, are when my eating has been very much under strict control, often (though not always) combined with a rigorous walking regime. And the worst times have been when my eating is completely out of control. They have been desperate despairing suicidal times. BUT in the last two years I'm pretty much desperate, despairing and suicidal all the time. Because I know that time has run out for me.

The only difference now between being fat or not is that when fat I have no confidence at all when I'm out of doors. When thinner it's still a huge struggle to get outdoors, but when there I am more confident. Still stressed, but more confident than when fat. And that's it. Oh yes, I have that sense of achievement when I lose the weight. But it's not real achievement of anything that will actually make a whole load of difference in my life. Yes, being more confident would improve my life a little bit. But how much time do I spend outdoors anyway? At this stage in my life and in my illness, which I believe to be terminal, is it really going to make any difference?

The next important age in my life is going to be 42. I assume this to be the age when I will kill myself. I know what ages are important. I knew since at least the age of 10 or 11 that 28 was a fundamental, important age in my life. I actually thought I would die at that age. And in a way I did - I had a breadown and the me I was before, the competant me that could achieve anything in life if she put her mind to it, died. And I wish I had completely died, because there has certainly has been no reason for me to be alive since then. Since then I have been no more than a shit machine. Next age I knew was important was 36. I thought maybe I was going to have a baby at 36. I really thought that. I didn't know that age was important because I was going to have another breakdown which left me feeling like I would never be intimate with another human being ever again. And also took away any desire for that. And in practical terms I could never have children now because no-one will ever marry me and I would never be able to pay for the support I would need to look after a baby. I mean I can barely look after myself. I wouldn't make someone a good mother. And I feel too old and tired already to do it now. It takes great energy and positivity to do that. I am exhausted from what life has already thrown at me.

But for all I know it could be another breakdown waiting for me at 42. I have no expectation of anything else. Why expect anything else. 28 was certainly a symbolic death. I wish 36 had been a symbolic rebirth. But sadly not. Sadly it has just given rise to endless despair. A sort of emotional flatness borne of trying not to think about things too deeply, or at all, because it just leads to suicidal thoughts. But if you can never address the issues then you can never find a way forward. But I've tried so many times to address them and find a way forward and failed. That is why I've given up. For some people there is no solution.

So what is there left? Making sure I wear a size 8 shroud in my coffin? That feels like the only thing I have left to aim for now.

I am so without hope. But this is not just a lack of hope due to depression and stinking thinking. This is real evidence based lack of hope. I can't see the point in anything anymore.

I've been round that diet trail so many times and it's led nowhere. A feeling of "moving forward" with my life which is actually false. Just another turn of the wheel. Another part of the cycle.

I feel trapped and there's no way out. Not that there's no way out of my weight problems. But that there's no way out of my mental health situation. The weight problem is just a manifestation of that. It has no real importantance at all.

And why am I mentally ill? I can't cope with relationships with other people. It could be argued I don't get to meet many other people to have relationships with. But I had a breakdown in the first place because I was so isolated. I became so isolated because contact with other people seemed too painful. And it still is. Because of the sh*t I feel about myself that I project into other people's minds. Always thinking they think ill of me. And this is not weight dependant. And not dependant on my mental illness. Though neither of these things help of course. They're just things to hang other people's disapproval of me on. I felt that way before the breakdown and when I was thin. I have always felt that way. That I am not worth it. Not worth anything in fact. And there seems no way to change this.

How could I ever become a worthwhile human being? I can't do a job and contribute to the community in that way. I can't be a mother and contribute to society in that way. I know you may say I make a contribution in blogland. But I don't have it in me to write on my blog every day ie to really make it a big thing in my life. To be an inspiration to other people like Diane fit to the finish, or to give people things to think about like Lyn of esccape from obesity. I just don't have it in me.

That's the worst thing of all about having a breakdown. Losing the ability to write. Before it was my raison d'etre. Now I struggle to squeeze a few words out every 3 or 4 days. Really, I find it so difficult. I find I have little of interest to say. I'm bored with myself and my braindeadedness.

Self hatred welling up again.

It doesn't seem like anything I can do would count in the real world. I could do art classes. But it would only be for me. Not for a career or anything I could sell or make a life for myself from. I could study some more, but I'm unable permanently to do a job so what's the point? Just for the sake of it?

I can't anymore cling to anything that's false. And further study would just be false because it's not leading anywhere.

I have tried so many times to work something out, to sort out my life, to find a way of moving forward. And every time I'm buggered because I can't work. That's what it comes down to in the end. I can't actually take part in real life. Not that I don't value all the contacts and support I've found on line. Of course I do. But I have no possibilities in real life and that is the problem. No solutions. And I've needed a solution for the longest possible period of time.

Desperate and suicidal yet again and feeling in need of a binge. So sad that my life is like this. It's been this way ever since X left. I should have killed myself then and avoided all this pain. My life has indeed been fucked up by falling in love with the wrong man. And there is now no way of undoing the damage. It's been too long. There is no way back from here.

***

I should point out that I am not suicidal at the moment. I'll make a deal with you, dear reader, if I'm going to do it, I'll let you know first. I think that's only fair. And then you won't be worrying about me unnecessarily.

Another Tuesday Fail

You know it all already just from the title. I messed up again due to Tuesday stress. A chocolate and cake binge. It could have been a lot worse. It could have involved donuts and sandwiches and crisps and ice cream. Only the agoraphobia stopped me going back out for more.

The mistake I made was going out AFTER I'd done my washing. I had to go out but I should have done it BEFORE I did the washing. And then I could have just vegged out afterwards. Now I know the rules. Just get bl**dy organised so I don't have to go out on Tuesday at all. And if by some unforeseen calamity it really is necessary then to go out BEFORE I do the washing.

I feel so dumb that I have to make these rules for myself; treat myself like a little child that can't be trusted. I'm an intelligent adult for god's sake. And that's the thing - that I can't trust myself. At least not at the moment.

I didn't eat because I was hungry. I ate because the horrid toddler within wanted a treat, a reward for getting the washing done. A reward for going through the stress of it.

And as with the last chocolate binge I didn't enjoy it beyond the first 100g. In fact I found it really difficult to eat it. I had to FORCE the stuff down. My body really really really didn't want that all that chocolatey sugary goo. Yet force it down I did. Which reminds me that this is a compulsion. Not an addiction. Although certain foods are addictive, I've never really thought of myself as a food addict. Because I eat even when I don't want it all physically. It's like someone compulsively drinking water. You can't be addicted to water, but you can drink it compulsively - and thus do yourself serious harm. People have died from over consumption of water. That is how I feel about food. When I'm eating more healthily, I'm just compulsively consuming large amounts of veg instead of large amounts of chocolate.

After I'd shoved down as much chocolate and cake as I could, I actually started fantasising about the veg and fish I would have had if the binge hadn't occurred. I could actually almost taste it. That's what my body really wanted.

My body has been very happy on the cereal free regime. Very happy. My blood sugar has been flat as a pancake (that would be a low carb pancake with no sugar or syrup obviously). My bowel swelling - which always happens when I binge eat or just eat wheat had gone down by the third day. Amazing! Normally it takes much longer to completely deflate. So now I can't kid myself anymore that my stomach is just that size due to the swelling and I'm left with I very clear idea of just how much fat there is - not pretty.

But the blood sugar is the amazing thing. I have felt hungry at times but that hunger manifested itself in a little tummy rumbling. It was located entirely in my tummy - where it should be. And was thus very easy to ignore. So different from the whole body experience of insulin induced hunger. So it turns out real hunger is actually the easiest to ignore. Then carb induced - which takes a hell of a lot of battling. And the hardest hunger to get round of all is psychological hunger which has nothing at all to do with the calorific needs of your body. And yet this is the most difficult. This is the one that gets me every time. I've always thought that I can handle anything my body throws at me, even the carb induced stuff, if my head is in the right place. If it isn't, then I'm sunk.

Of course I've been getting round that psychological one by the thought of not wanting to have to write up a binge again, which has worked a lot. But yesterday even that thought couldn't stop me. My head was in a different place. The toddler just wanted. And I was dumb enough to respond. To give in.

The only reason it didn't expand into the donuts and so on is that the convenience store was very busy at the time I hit it, and that sent me into a bit of a spin, and then I was standing near the front of the queue thinking of other things I wanted to put in my basket - but that would have meant rejoining a very long queue and I couldn't face it. I told myself I'd just have to come out again if I wanted more - and of course that didn't happen due to the agoraphobia.

So, another Tuesday fail. I found it incredibly difficult to sleep of course after all that sugar so I had a bad night and finally woke up today feeling terrible - very miserable about it all. A miserable failure. And thinking bingey thoughts.

It was only the weather that stopped me going out there and doing more damage today. It just rained torrentially all afternoon. I would have been utterly sodden within 3 minutes of being out and I really hate to get my feet wet!

Now the rain has calmed down and I'm thinking bingeing thoughts again. This is the thing, if the toddler gets it's own way once it thinks it can have it's way again. That's why I have to stamp on it and say No, it was just one day and can't carry on. Like the willpower muscle I read about on someone's blog (sorry can't remember who's). I can come back OK from one bad day, but it's much much harder to come back from more than that.

Having said that, I am still struggling with those thoughts at the moment and don't quite know how I'm going to stop myself. Today has been surprisingly good so far but not because of my willpower.

I've now been given the Over The Top Award by Karen at *FiCETERA* (thank you!) as well as Leslie and Amy, but I'm too depressed to do it tonight. I had planned on posting it last night of course along with celebrations for having got through Tuesday without bingeing. I also had hoped to set myself some goals, but now I feel too wobbly about it all yet again.

Doing OK

Hi Guys. Thank you for all the offers of tea, shopping and laundry. If I'm ever in America (where most of you live) I'll never be short of a cuppa! Seriously, your support means a great deal to me.

I've been eating pretty well since Wednesday.
Thursday:
200g diet yoghurt + banana + 2 cups 40 cal choc drink with instant coffee added
Fish in parsley sauce + veg + 1 choc drink + Galaxy chocolate bar (48g?)
Fish pie + veg + salad + 1 choc drink

The chocolate bar was left over from my mega binge on Tuesday - I had two left over from that night and ate one on Wed and one Thurs. A miracle I didn't scoff them both for breakfast on Wed - that's what normally happens with any left over binge food. Eating them after a meal with tons of veg meant that it didn't tip my blood sugar off.

Fri: as Thurs except no chocolate bar and 1 extra cup choc drink. Pissed off I had so much choc drink, but I was really fighting the urge to binge in the afternoon. The only thing which stopped me going to the shop and buying the bag of rubbish was the fact that I couldn't face having to write here that I had another bad binge. So accountability does work!

Walked to a supermarket in town in the evening - easy on the way there but very difficult carrying heavy bags on the way back. All that veg weighs a lot more than cakes and chocolate etc.

Sat:
200g diet yoghurt + banana + 2 choc drink with instant coffee
Fish in parsley sauce + veg + choc drink
Binge: 1 bowl porridge (35g oats) with sultanas and honey + banana + choc drink
Fish pie + veg + salad + Ribena Really Light made with hot water

In the evening, before my last meal, I walked 15 mins to a different supermarket in the out of town direction and walked back the long route round the houses which took about half an hour. I really struggled on the way back even though I only had one bag but managed to only stop once for a few moments. I felt so pissed off that I am so unhealthy. Ridiculous at my age to struggle with such a short walk, especially when I was walking 1 1/2 hours several times a week earlier in the year.

I am also really pissed off about that mini binge. I ate it because I had been fiddling for ages trying to get some software downloaded and it was really difficult and frustrating so in anger and tiredness with it all I binged. I ate the porridge because it was already cooked - I had cooked it Wed morning and then decided against it (a first - normally I can't cook porridge and not eat it) - and made the mistake of putting it in the fridge. I should have chucked it because I wouldn't have eaten any porridge on Sat if I'd had to cook it. That 6 minutes of preparation time would have ensured it didn't happen. I know in terms of calories it was still a good day, but I had intended to go a few days with no cereals at all.

And it could have been a whole load worse. After the supermarket I went to a nearby Tesco Express - ostensibly looking for some fish or fish pie. It was a nightmare in there! This was 9pm at night and they close at 11 but they seemed to have a mass of freshly baked donuts, brownies, muffins, pastries etc. The smell filled the whole shop. Why do that so late at night? But they wouldn't do it unless they were going to sell them so I can only guess that people already well refreshed and going from the pub to the clubs in town probably call in there on the way and buy some carbs to absorb some of the alcohol.

I know from experience that I can't manage more than one food shop in a day - my will power tends to collapse the more food choices I am faced with. I wandered around the shop for about 3 minutes looking at so many possibilities but amazingly I made it out of there without buying anything. The thought of how miserable I'd feel to fail yet again stopped me from doing it.

Today:
I woke up about 9 and felt really "off" and like I needed an alcoholic drink - very unusual for me to have a hankering for alcohol. I decided as I was feeling so ropey to go for it and I had my favourite tipple of Ameretto and white rum - only a very small amount - with 2 pieces of crystallised ginger. Then I went back to bed. When I woke up I found I had a big, gurgling cough - the type which threatens to sit on your chest for quite a while. This explains the need for alcohol - I find I often need a tot when I'm fighting something like that.

200g yoghurt with some sultanas on top + 3/4 banana + 2 choc drinks with coffee
200g yoghurt with sultanas sprinkled on top + another 3/4 banana + 1 choc drink
Eve meal: Fish in parsley sauce (sorry to be boring!) + veg + salad + 1 large Worcester apple + 2 small pieces crystallised ginger. Ribena RL and 1 choc drink

I think I had a lighter food day today because of being a bit unwell so I just didn't feel like eating anything heavy earlier on.

So I've had 5 pretty good days. Cutting out cereals ('cept that one bowl) has really calmed my blood sugar down. I haven't been waking up with the carb monster raging and the usual struggle to even wait for the porridge to cook, so my breakfasts have been very light.

The first few days I was quite stressed out with all the prep and cooking and having to do plenty of shopping because I don't have a large enough fridge to store many days veg in. I've calmed down about it now and feel more on top of it. Hearing about the prep that many other bloggers are doing to make sure they have healthy food at the ready has helped (eg escape from obesity and Losing Waist). And having to get out to the supermarket is very good for me both in terms of agoraphobia (although I'm only managing it in the evenings) and exercise.

Yesterday after my binge and all those dreadful thoughts at the supermarket I really didn't think I would carry on with this way of eating. I felt confused. I've had no desire to eat the usual bowl after bowl of cereal and porridge but I'm still quite uncertain about my eating at this point; as to how sustainable it is - can I really keep this up? I've felt so wobbly in myself about it that I've been unable to set any goals or commit to anything which has been really annoying when everyone else is doing "The Hot 100"!

Earlier this year I successfully dieted for 3 months eating The Hay Way - separating carbs and protein, and I ate that way for most of 2007. It was one of the best years I've had in many years; I lost weight and I felt good about my appearance the whole year. My eating went to pot in December 2007 because I had a breakdown of course - due to a combination of psychoanalysis, which I have heartily regretted doing ever since, and trying to reconnect with my father as a part of that - and being rejected yet again. I've been in chaos in my head and with my eating ever since then and put on a huge amount of weight. Apart from 4 bursts of dieting (the longest of which was the 3 months this year) I have been in no routine with my eating at all. The times when I've been dieting, and therefore eating in a regular pattern are the times when I've felt much better psychologically. But which way round is it? Eating in a restrictive regular pattern makes me feel better or I feel better so I can eat like that? I think it's a mixture of both.

So I may go back to eating The Hay Way again as this has been sustainable in the past, but for the moment strangely enough, cereals just seem like so many unnecessary calories - not to mention blood sugar issues. I'm just going to have to continue feeling my way along, not just one day at a time, but one meal at a time.

Finally, thanks to Leslie and Amy for each giving me an Over The Top Award! I'll answer all the questions in my next post and possibly even think of a few people to pass it on to.

Turn around

The good news first: I've had a Good Food Day today. I got up late and instead of reaching for a carby breakfast of porridge or cereal (2 or 3 bowls) I found I just couldn't face it (more on that later). So I had a diet yoghurt followed by a load of veg I cooked the night before with some fish in parsley sauce (135 cal). And I loved it. I followed it with a caramel Wispa bar. Then I had to go out to see my CPN. We had and a good meeting and when I told her about the continuing trouble with agoraphobia she suggested that once a week someone could meet me at the supermarket and go round with me. Strange that I've never been offered help with this before but then it's rarely been as extreme as it is now. Anyway, that will make sure I get out to the supermarket once a week.

After I'd seen her I was able to do some Good Shopping and I was literally dripping with sweat by the time I got home with heavy bags. It is still VERY warm here (on the SW Peninsular). For tea (as we from the north call it) I had fish pie and plenty of veg and a little salad + a diet yoghurt + low cal choc drink (40cals).

So I have managed a day without any starchy carbs and I didn't even feel like any.

But the reason today has been so good is because last night was so bad - although generally after a bad night the carb monster is still raging. I had a major choc/ cake/ biscuit binge. I hadn't had a binge since last Monday.

The reason for last night's binge? Tuesday is always a bad day because I do my laundry and I get stressed over it and I couldn't face the rest of the evening without a "treat" but instead of buying just one or two things I bought a carrier bag full. So even though I'd cooked a load of veg before I went to the shop I wasn't able to eat it because I can't eat good food when I've just eaten a load of rubbish.

I didn't even enjoy it beyond the first two Cadbury Twirls. I was forcing it down but I didn't want it, need it or enjoy it. I did feel guilty afterwards; that I'd made myself eat food I didn't want. I also felt frightened. Frightened of the effect of all that rubbish. I thought about throwing up afterwards but couldn't quite persuade myself to do it.

Great to feel guilty; that what I did was wrong. And strange to be suddenly frightened. It shows I've come to my senses a bit over my crazy eating. I hadn't binged since the previous Monday, so I went over a week without bingeing. And I wasn't massively overeating dry carbs either. In fact my eating the last week has been more normal than it's been in a long time. Why?

A weird thing happened on the Sunday - I binged and it caused me to cry. I felt miserable that I was putting too much food in my body. Really sad. And then when I got up early on Monday morning after very little sleep I ate the rest of the bingeing food I had in. I got back into bed with the last chocolate bar and when I next looked down at it, it was practically gone and I didn't remember eating it. The down side of eating when you're not fully woken up yet. That shocked me and made me feel really terrible. Like it hadn't been worth it. And I was miserable over my silly binge for the rest of the day. And crying over it.

But I recognised that although I felt bad this was actually a good thing. Whereas before I had cried when trying not to binge, now I was crying because I was bingeing. So my bingeing wasn't reinforced anymore by that feeling of relief and the enjoyment of the food; so I haven't wanted to do it anymore. In fact I had a miserable, down feeling whenever I thought of it last week. Last week when I went to the convenience shop and looked at the bingeing foods I felt turned off, rather than pressing the "go" button in my brain, the lets-just-buy-a-load-of-chocolate-cake-biscuits-crisps etc button that results in a basket full of rubbish.

So why did I reach this point? I think it's because it has just gone too far. It's been going on too long. I'd been bingeing badly almost every day for over 2 1/2 months (with just one week when I didn't binge and ate mainly Readybrek).

Not that I haven't done worse and gone on for longer in the past. But I think the difference is I've never done so little for such a long period of time. I've been feeling ill with pains in the chest, aching, agitation, skin problems. A lot of this is due to sitting indoors hardly moving all day long.

The worst time I ever had in my life was 2002 when put on 6 stone (84lbs) in a few months. But I didn't feel as bad physically as I do now. Why? Well I was getting out a lot more. Just walking into town (15 mins), around town and back again. Walking round with The Bear. And maybe I was just younger then - 30 instead of 37. Makes a difference.

And this time I have really given up on everything. No healing, hardly ever going into town at all, no going to the library. I've only seen The Bear about twice and my CPN twice (apart from today) during this mad bingeing phase.

All this time I have chosen food over people. All "normal life" has been suspended. I have been too ashamed to go out and be seen by other people and spend time with other people. But working through all that stuff about shame has really helped me. A couple of days ago I went into town on my own and sat in a cafe and read a book. I was self conscious and worried who might see me, but I was also relieved and happy that I did it. Not having binged for a week helped too of course. Really annoying then that as soon as I got stressed I binged again.

I think the solution to the Tuesday problem is to go to bed for 2 or 3 hours. Sean (DD of a WL) said that when he felt like bingeing he used to go to bed and when he woke up the need to binge was gone. And Nora (Green Stone Woman) often uses the method of going to sleep when she feels bad and when she wakes up her brain is reset. So this is what I'm going to do next Tuesday. Have to wait and see if it works.

BTW My healer really loved the flowers - she texted me to say she was "over the moon" with them. I hope I'll be going to see her again in the next 2 to 3 weeks. I'm really looking forward to it.

PS I accidentally deleted an email entitled something like "Extremely Confidential". So if you sent such an email, please send again (unless it was junk)!

The binge that saved my ancestor

Introduction or disclaimer: I was in two minds about whether to put up this piece or not. It seems to be a complete contradiction to the last post, diametrically opposing the idea that there is no such thing as "natural fatness". That post was about being told I was fat when I was not and therefore spending my entire life feeling I was fat, even when I was, in reality, thin. In writing this post I was trying to deal with the very great shame I am carrying over my eating issues and the consequent damage to my appearance. It's unfortunate I got into using the word natural. What I was really trying to say was that EDs are an adaptive response; the interaction of natural biological and psychological responses to the behaviour of other people and the food available in our environment.

I thought about perhaps changing it all, completely rewriting it with the emphasis on adaptive responses. But what I am saying here is that eating behaviours are natural, normal and human, and only what is to be expected given the environment a person has grown up in and evolutionally potentiated biological preferences.

What I am not saying is that that means a large percentage of us should just accept being fat. This is not a fat acceptance piece. I want to be thin. I've wanted to be thin all my life. Maybe what I am saying is that the reasons a lot of us struggle with our weight are just the expected responses given our lives and circumstances, and therefore there is no need for shame. And also, that if we do understand the complex processes and interactions involved then we have more of a chance of changing them.

Am I deluded or confused? I'll leave you to decide.

***
The Binge That Saved My Ancestor

Shame. There's so much shame in our lives. If you are a binge eater or overeater then you know what I'm talking about. I read Pamela's post (see Uncovering Pamela, 3rd Sep) about her shame over a 30lb weight gain. My reaction and that of those who commented was that she shouldn't feel shame, that these things happen and she should not feel bad about herself for it. We can see how useless shame is, how negative it is, how it makes a person who is feeling bad already feel even worse about the situation. We want to take all that shame away from them and make them feel better.



Of course we can think all this when someone else feels shame about their weight; it's a whole different ball game when it's our own shame. When we feel the shame of having been "out of control", of having binged or eaten too much, of having visible weight gain - and especially if it comes after having lost a load of weight, then it's our dirty secret and we can never imagine being able to jettison that embarrassment over our behaviour and appearance.



It feels like our shame is a "natural" reaction to having done something terribly wrong. That being "out of control" around food means that we are "bad" in some way. That wanting to eat more than we "need" means we are behaving badly. That we are at fault.



But what if the bingeing and the overeating are the natural things, the natural responses to a particular set of circumstances in your life? No-one deliberately sets out to wilfully overeat or binge. It is a natural part of human existence.



Many women wish that they could eat "intuitively" and maintain a (UK) size 8 or 10 figure; they wish that it came "naturally" to them and that there is something inherently "wrong" with them that they can't do this. That struggling to maintain themselves at that size is a failure of sorts in itself. That this battle is unnatural.



But in fact the idea that intuitive eating means only eating small amounts of food and thus being thin is utterly unnatural. Do you think a cave man would turn down any food at all? Do you think a cave man would chose the lower fat option (assuming he had any options at all)? Do you think they would turn down a salty option? The sweet option? Humans are designed to seek out the fatty, salty, sweet options. Humans are designed to eat when there is food available. And if it's available in quantity they eat it in quantity. Because millions of years ago, thousands of years ago, even 100 years ago, that was the only way to stay alive. As Steven Pinker says, we are only evolved as far as the stone age.

And eating when you're feeling stressed, exhausted, depressed? Again entirely natural and entirely adaptive to the survival of the human race. When our ancestors were stressed it was generally because their very existence was in peril. Did they ever feel down? Well you know how bad it feels when you don't have very much to eat ... that feeling was designed to make sure that you do eat when food is available. Ditto the comforting feeling when you have eaten a good meal. And when you feel exhausted at work but just have to keep going? Eating snacks is the natural way to get your blood sugar back up.



So far from being natural, being thin in a society where food is overwhelmingly abundant, available in any quantity at any time of the day or night, in the sugariest, saltiest, fattiest combinations possible, is highly unnatural. To maintain a thin figure is to be battling your natural biology and psychology every step of the way.



And all this without even considering each individual's personal history of complex interactions with people and food. Each person will have formed their own adaption to the circumstances they have been presented with. Positive and negative connotations of different foods, acceptance or not of their own body and the different body shapes of other people, their family relationships, and the eating behaviours of their family and of society in general. A huge amount of information transmitted, neural pathways created and reinforced, interactions between biological imperatives and psychological processes; our resultant eating behaviour is not our fault. But that doesn't mean we can't change it. Change is possible. But I think understanding is necessary first.



You are a child of nature.

There is no need for shame.



****

In 1665 in a village in Derbyshire (UK Midlands) called Eyam, the Bubonic plague arrived in a flea infested sample of cloth sent from London. Quickly people became ill with the terrifying symptoms of black spots on the skin which actually rotted while they were still alive, vomiting and coughing blood, diarrhea, swelling, fever, pain. Whole families started to die. Instead of fleeing to safety, the villagers voluntarily agreed to quarantine themselves so as to stop the spread of this virulent disease. Food and other supplies were left for them at the edge of the village. By the time the plague burnt itself out less than a quarter of the villagers were still alive. Most of the survivors are thought to have been immune to the illness due to a particular gene mutation which is present throughout European populations. It was very rare to actually contract the disease and survive it.



But my ancestor did. She was wild with fever and in her delirium she consumed an entire piggin of bacon fat (a piggin is a large jug or pail as for collecting water). She survived. This mega pure fat binge probably gave her body the energy it needed to fight off the deadly plague. This "binge" was her body and mind's natural response. Yes, she was under the severe stress of illness and impending death, she was exhausted and despairing over the deaths of many people and the collapse of her entire world. Yes, she was "out of control".

Do you think she felt shame?

Walk with The Bear

Oh dear. I have just written a very long comment on escapefromobesity (see blog list) and it makes me feel so embarassed. I have always been great at responding to other people's stuff rather than focussing on my own sh*t. It was just the same when I went to a (quasi) therapy group. I hardly ever talked about myself. I focussed intensely on everyone else's problems. It's always much easier to think things through and come up with a reasoned response when the problem comes out of someone else's mouth (or keyboard). Because of this I always thought I'd make a great psychotherapist, but just one little spanner in the works - I'm too much of a f**kup myself to ever be taken seriously in that sphere. This is really annoying!

At least thinking about Lyn's stuff is helping me get further forward myself as we are both battling our weight, whereas the therapy group was filled with people with very diverse problems - none of which related to eating - so I didn't really get that much from it in that sense.

I did get to see The Bear yesterday but only after a long wait. He had told me to ring him between 3 and 4pm to arrange meeting up. So after getting up at 2pm (I only got into bed at 7am and slept badly) I had a reasonable breakfast and then read blogs all afternoon. I didn't want to have anymore to eat as I knew I would end up eating too much and so not be able to go outside as my stomach would be too big to get into the only summer clothes I have that fit (yes that's how bad things are). It enabled me to see that I am able to stop eating if I really want something bad enough - and I really did want to see The Bear. And also that reading blogs is a great distraction from eating! I love reading them - my new obsession?

Anyway, it turned out that The Bear had only gone to bed at 8am and so I didn't get to meet up with him until 7.30 in the evening - a long time to go without food! But I wanted to see him so bad that I wasn't going to mess it up. All I had was 2 bananas. And I felt OK.

We went for a walk together 1/2 an hour up a hill and then back. We sat on a bench together at the top looking out onto distant hills as dusk fell. He ate some chips he'd bought on the way but luckily he didn't offer me any! - which I think was because I'd said about how much weight I'd put on and how upset I was about it.

He chuntered on in his usual fashion about computing and photography and all the people he knows etc. I never get to discuss my own stuff with him - beyond a line or two I manage to lever in when he pauses for breath. But I accepted that a long time ago - he can't take on my stuff on top of his own. He just can't cope with it. Most people think this is so unsatisfactory that I shouldn't bother seeing him anymore. But I love him and without him I probably wouldn't still be alive right now. He's kept me going just by being him. He can only be himself - he can't be something he's not afterall.

I was really impressed by the fact that I was able to do this walk. There is always the danger after a sudden burst of exercise that I will binge because it's such a shock to the system after weeks of sitting indoors all day. We went to a shop on the way back and I did Good Shopping until the guy on the till was putting it thru and then I went to the freezer and got a choc covered ice cream for both of us. That one item is the only bad thing I've eaten in a week apart from a small choc bar. And the choc bar was followed by 2 orlistat so no damage. But because I didn't take any tablets with the ice cream I got the fat hit and it was amazing to me after that how I started fantasising about food etc like a mini rush in my brain. But luckily I was still walking with The Bear around town for 30 mins after I'd eaten it so I didn't get the chance to act on those feelings, and they weren't actually reinforced by eating behaviour. The unstoppable train didn't get to leave the station that day.

It is now 9pm here and I'm not sure whether I should go out on a walk or not. And whether if I do I will be able to eat safely and sanely afterwards.

I'll let you know what happens...