Off the rails

The Lurong Challenge is just 4 days away. And it cannot. Get. Here. Fast. Enough. For you see, knowing I'm about to start a fairly strict, two month long eating plan has kicked my particular brand of disordered eating into high gear, the past week or so especially.

"Go ahead, eat what you want...BINGE even!" my brain says. "You're about to get super strict and you're going to lose a ton of weight in the next couple months! You know what? If you eat a bunch of crap now you'll be so sick of it you won't even miss it!"

I've know I've used this pic before, but it's never been more appropriate.

Yesterday for example: two chocolate chip cookies with cream filling in the middle and a bagel with butter (a BAGEL, for the love of Gallifrey!) for breakfast. For lunch, a 1/2 sub (a SUB!?! Though to be fair a couple of years ago I would have bought a whole sub, AND ate the whole thing, so there's that...I guess) along with a cup of watermelon and not one, but two (Because king-size dont'cha know) BIG peanut butter cups. And for afternoon snack, what probably amounted to nearly 2 cups of peanut/raisin/m&m trail mix.

Yeah.

So wrappers have been unsuccessfully hidden, receipts thrown away, the credit card used to buy food (if you can call it that) instead of the debit card, because then my husband will see that I stopped somewhere and how much I spent.

Fuck. Me.

I am not a smart woman.

So, naturally by 4:00 yesterday afternoon I felt like shit. But to be honest, I didn't feel too (mentally) low about it, because again, in the back of my mind, I'm thinking, "This is temporary. I'll get my shit together come Monday and all will be fine." Then I made the mistake of talking to my usually wonderfully supportive husband about how I've been eating and how I've made myself sick with it. To make a long story short, we broke the first rule of martial contentment in that only one of us is allowed to be crazy at a time. I'm not saying he was crazy per se, but he was tired mentally and physically and wasn't in the right frame of mind to deal with my neurosis. So instead of feeling supported I felt, really, really judged. And like I have been letting him down by my eating habits lately. Which of course really sent me down the shame spiral.

It got ugly.

Why a picture of a puppy here? Because I just google-imaged the word "ugly." Don't ever do that.

But thank Glassman, I went to Crossfit after work. And I RXed a workout not many people chose to, and I was really proud of my performance. And I remembered who I was. A badass. A BAMF that can accomplish anything she puts her mind too.

Dealing with my ED is not a one time battle, it's a war that will never completely end for the rest of my life, I imagine. The lines of occupation may shift on occasion, but I have the weapons I need to succeed. I just need to keep fighting.

I hesitated to write about this for the same reason that Dave's choice in words hurt me so much yesterday. I have been told by some really awesome people that I am an inspiration to them. So to lose control of myself so badly the past week has me feeling like a fraud and a failure.

Yup.

But then again, I'm not being authentic if I let my blog or my FB page make it seem like this whole eating-right, active lifestyle thing is always easy. Because it's not. We all need to realize that the path to wellness is not a straight line. It's a meandering path. And one that you're occasionally going to lose sight of. But it's up to you to keep your eyes open and realize when you've lost the trail and then do all within your power to get back on it. 

Because you will. And so will I.

So I guess this is how eating disorders are created.

Looking back on the time before I came to grips with my Food Addiction, I felt as if  I had a kind of body image issue that would be reverse of those I've heard anorexics and bulimics suffer. My understanding is that oftentimes, when an extremely underweight anorexic looks in the mirror they still see themselves as fat. I, on the other hand, could not see, even in a full length mirror (cause yeah, I did own one) how big I had become. Don't get me wrong, I didn't think I was skinny, mind you. Just, I don't know...zaftig, maybe? It wasn't until I hit rock bottom and not coincidentally started paying closer attention to some recent photos that I really saw it.

The crazy thing now is that I will look at myself in certain pictures from back then and specifically remember thinking I looked pretty dang good. And let me tell you my friends, I most certainly did not. And it's not just me. My buddy Dani, who has lost at least 90lbs in the past couple of years, says she has suffered from the same phenomenon.

And now? Now, some days we both "feel" fatter than we ever did when we were 75-90lbs heavier. That just makes all kinds of sense doesn't it? <sigh> I think for me anyways, it's about the fact that, initially, I just wanted to not be the fattest girl in the room anymore. I just wanted to be small enough to blend in. Nothing real specific in terms of body shape/size/strength/fitness. In fact my initial goal weight was 180lbs. I knew from past experience I looked pretty good there, and it was maintainable in my mind. In other words, the bar wasn't set that high...or low. Whatever. To put it in perspective, the concept of only have five or ten pounds  to lose was laughable to me. I didn't ever imagine getting to that point. More importantly, I couldn't imagine caring about just an extra  five or ten pounds.

But ....now that is where I find myself. I have friends who have quite literally said, "So you're not going to lose any more right?" And my thought is "Hell yeah, dear Lord! Do you not see all the fat still on me!" I have become one of "those women." The everyday ones, who sure, they weren't models, but whose bodies I literally would have given a pinky finger to have swapped bodies with two years ago. And now it's not enough. And I obsess.

What's gotten me this far into the journey (and is sustaining me) is my new found love for being fit and all the cool things you can do when you are. And that love of fitness has enlightened me to just how much physical potential I have. For the first time in my life, strong abs, killer arms, running a decent 5K pace, etc are actually within my reach. They're not something "for other people." Which is awesome. 

Mostly.

What bothers me just a bit is that, this new found attitiude...the expectations as mentioned in my last post

can result disappointment when they are not met. Just blending in isn't good enough anymore. Now I want to be the fittest in the room. 

So I'm putting pressure on myself. And obsessing about Primal eating 24/7. At which point do I chill out and accept that it's the journey, not destination? Part of me feels as if it is what it is, I'm a food addict I always will be a food addict and channeling the need to binge into as positive a mode as I can (reading obsessing about nutrition and fitness) is the best I can do. Of course the other part  of me wonders if I am healed enough to do as the other Primals do and stop counting calories/carbs. Ditch the scale completely. Eat what I am supposed to eat and let it go and move on with my life.

I am absolutely terrified that if I do this I will gain the weight back faster than you can eat a cupcake.

So for now I'm going to keep on keeping on. Keep reading. Keep journaling. I kind of wish I had something else going on in my life to distract me...and by something else I mean something fun. Not, ya know, my paid and unpaid "work." But I don't. And maybe that is for a reason.

Maybe.