I've been doing so good these last 4 days, I'm afraid writing is going to slow down my progress. I've controlled my food impulses pretty well, mostly by drinking tons of salty and sweet fluids. That's not saying I still don't eat after meals because despite being full, I will eat a scoop of yogurt or grab a handful of nuts, but I've cut down on sweets significantly. It's not easy, but I've stopped myself from eating ice-cream and chocolate bars, almost disgusted by how sweet it is. I've been eating more protein, which keeps me full unlike healthy fats. I can eat tons of nuts and avocados and still feel hungry afterward, but eating protein keeps me satiated so I'll stick with that for now.
I think I was in a period of mild sugar/fat addiction because I had to eat something carb and fat-laden to reduce my anxiety. But practicing mindfulness--mostly by reminding myself by how flabby by thighs are becoming--is working, and I'm happy.
Can I really go a week, a whole 7 days, without binging? I feel hopeful today.
Wednesday, January 15, 2014
Sunday, January 12, 2014
Avoiding Posting
It's been a tough couple of days, making it difficult to post. Unfortunately, I haven't been very good with the binge-eating, with one day culminating in a whopping 6,000 calories. I binged at work--ate 7 fucking bagels. Couldn't stop at the cinnamon raisin and the chocolate chip--no, had to consume a blueberry, a plain, a whole wheat. I compensated the next day by waking up at 4:30 am to exercise and that night, I was so fucking tired, I could barely think. Then I realized I couldn't fit into my jeans or skinny shorts anymore, and I just about had it. I wanted to rip the fat off my thighs and growing lovehandles. I thrashed on the floor in disgust.
But today was a good day. I didn't binge-eat...well, I binged a little this morning but for the most part was able to control it. I feel good. I'm below 2,000 calories today, which I think is a good thing. I keep trying to read positive messages about getting "back on the wagon" because if I keep a positive mindset, I feel like I can hold the anxiety at bay. The impulses.
The thing about binge-eating is that I've become a nutrition genius. I know that protein takes more calories to digest than fat and carbs, that carbs are less efficiently absorbed during rigorous exercise, that people reach weight-loss plateaus, etc. I know the science and marketing behind today's nutritional guidelines, having read countless research papers. But it doesn't make me feel any better. It doesn't make the anxiety go away, and I still automatically count calories.
I used to read all these articles and hear about people who had issues with alcoholism and drug addictions and thought--can't they control it? I'm not thinking that now--I'm living it. What if someone were holding a gun to your head, you ask? Well, I wouldn't binge then but I can guarantee you that I've placed myself in many life-threatening situations where I shouldn't have binged but did. I once ate a full box of pastries, half a cake, a whole fucking tray of pasta, and some Chinese takeout in the car--I was swerving in and out of the lanes, barely looking at the roads, sticky and salty fingers sliding across the steering wheel. I heard car honks, but they were drowned out by my screaming and crying, as I continued to shove food into my face like an invisible entity was torturing me. Luckily, I haven't had one of those episodes in awhile, but that's just one glimpse into addiction and its defiance of reason.
But today was a good day. I didn't binge-eat...well, I binged a little this morning but for the most part was able to control it. I feel good. I'm below 2,000 calories today, which I think is a good thing. I keep trying to read positive messages about getting "back on the wagon" because if I keep a positive mindset, I feel like I can hold the anxiety at bay. The impulses.
The thing about binge-eating is that I've become a nutrition genius. I know that protein takes more calories to digest than fat and carbs, that carbs are less efficiently absorbed during rigorous exercise, that people reach weight-loss plateaus, etc. I know the science and marketing behind today's nutritional guidelines, having read countless research papers. But it doesn't make me feel any better. It doesn't make the anxiety go away, and I still automatically count calories.
I used to read all these articles and hear about people who had issues with alcoholism and drug addictions and thought--can't they control it? I'm not thinking that now--I'm living it. What if someone were holding a gun to your head, you ask? Well, I wouldn't binge then but I can guarantee you that I've placed myself in many life-threatening situations where I shouldn't have binged but did. I once ate a full box of pastries, half a cake, a whole fucking tray of pasta, and some Chinese takeout in the car--I was swerving in and out of the lanes, barely looking at the roads, sticky and salty fingers sliding across the steering wheel. I heard car honks, but they were drowned out by my screaming and crying, as I continued to shove food into my face like an invisible entity was torturing me. Luckily, I haven't had one of those episodes in awhile, but that's just one glimpse into addiction and its defiance of reason.
Sunday, January 5, 2014
It's Personal and Disturbing, but that's how it is
I don't have image issues. I don't read Cosmo, watch MTV shit, and think "She's so skinny, I want to be just like that!" When I don't binge eat, I look in the mirror and am fairly proud of myself. I'm intelligent, I'm very vocal about my beliefs and opinions, and I actually enjoy my life.
So why do I binge..I don't fucking know. Because I'm so good at controlling all aspects of my life, why I can control something as simple as food consumption? After a binge, I take off all my clothes and stare at my floor-to-ceiling mirror. I look at my lovehandles, my thighs, my breasts, my arms from 360 degrees. I rotate and stare at my body, which looked emaciated three months ago. I prod at parts that wiggle, wondering how I managed to get those after only two months. I lay on the ground, curl up in the a circle, tense all my muscles, and suppress the urge to scream.
I hate food. I hate how it entices me, makes me eat it, makes me feel horrible, makes me compulsively exercise, makes me want to throw myself against a wall and bash my head on the ground.
I know these posts are highly personal and somewhat disturbing. They go in-depth on the horrors of negative thought, and I keep it that way. It shows how fucked up binge-eating and eating disorders truly are.Yes, I know these can be triggers for those in recovery and those still suffering, but I want to know about the details of other people's issues. I want to understand if other people think I do, suffer like I do. Knowing that I'm not alone in my grotesque thoughts makes me want to fight for normalcy.
So why do I binge..I don't fucking know. Because I'm so good at controlling all aspects of my life, why I can control something as simple as food consumption? After a binge, I take off all my clothes and stare at my floor-to-ceiling mirror. I look at my lovehandles, my thighs, my breasts, my arms from 360 degrees. I rotate and stare at my body, which looked emaciated three months ago. I prod at parts that wiggle, wondering how I managed to get those after only two months. I lay on the ground, curl up in the a circle, tense all my muscles, and suppress the urge to scream.
I hate food. I hate how it entices me, makes me eat it, makes me feel horrible, makes me compulsively exercise, makes me want to throw myself against a wall and bash my head on the ground.
I know these posts are highly personal and somewhat disturbing. They go in-depth on the horrors of negative thought, and I keep it that way. It shows how fucked up binge-eating and eating disorders truly are.Yes, I know these can be triggers for those in recovery and those still suffering, but I want to know about the details of other people's issues. I want to understand if other people think I do, suffer like I do. Knowing that I'm not alone in my grotesque thoughts makes me want to fight for normalcy.
Post-failure
After such a good effort yesterday, I ate three dinner rolls at midnight. I felt uncontrollable as I shoved soft, milky bread into my mouth--great, another 1200 calories, I groaned. Tomorrow will be better, I promised myself.
And yet the first thing this morning, I ate another roll. Stuck the last roll in the fridge, determined not to eat it. Then paced around my kitchen, ate a couple of walnuts and pretzels, before whipping open the fridge and consuming the last roll. Screw it, I cursed. I then ate peanut butter ice-cream in ten second intervals, using my fingers to dig out the peanut butter swirls. I stuck it back in the fridge. Sat down on the kitchen floor, opening the fridge again before eating another few spoonfuls. I hated myself, wanted to throw myself out the window.
If I'm going to fuck up, might as well fuck up all the way.
Ate most of a chocolate granola bar, some pistachios, more walnuts, a bit of a caramel candy. Some sour cream, straight out of the tub. Raisins, chips. Ripped open a packet of grits and tried it. Tasteless.
In less than 30 minutes, I consumed my daily allotment of 2,000 calories. I hit the gym immediately afterward, running as fast I could. I felt bloated, terrible, slightly dazed. As I watched the timer click away on the treadmill, I thought about more efficient ways to burn calories. Increase incline, increase speed, run in interval bursts.
I keep thinking--I can't do this much longer. And yet, I continue to do so, after 2.5 weeks of struggle. I can't think of a catalyst to make myself change, because god knows therapy hasn't worked and shit self-promises haven't either. What will be my rock bottom, and do I have to hit rock bottom to change?
I need to follow a set of rules, I think:
1) No more sweets --HA! Yeah right. But I know sugar causes physiological addiction, so I need to cut it out. The first few days will be a struggle, but it must be done.
2) Replace trigger foods. Instead of eating chocolate or cream cheese, eat celery. Continue eating celery. Drink lots of water to the point of nausea. I have to drink myself to nausea because I don't respond to my bodily responses any other way--at least not now.
3) Not eat after meals. This will be a real struggle, so I'm thinking of either brushing my teeth or chewing gum. Gum hasn't worked, so maybe brushing my teeth.
4) Eat clean. If I don't recognize the ingredient, I'm not going to eat it. Again, this will be tough but it will cut out a bunch of hydrogenated oils I've been stuffing into my system.
And yet the first thing this morning, I ate another roll. Stuck the last roll in the fridge, determined not to eat it. Then paced around my kitchen, ate a couple of walnuts and pretzels, before whipping open the fridge and consuming the last roll. Screw it, I cursed. I then ate peanut butter ice-cream in ten second intervals, using my fingers to dig out the peanut butter swirls. I stuck it back in the fridge. Sat down on the kitchen floor, opening the fridge again before eating another few spoonfuls. I hated myself, wanted to throw myself out the window.
If I'm going to fuck up, might as well fuck up all the way.
Ate most of a chocolate granola bar, some pistachios, more walnuts, a bit of a caramel candy. Some sour cream, straight out of the tub. Raisins, chips. Ripped open a packet of grits and tried it. Tasteless.
In less than 30 minutes, I consumed my daily allotment of 2,000 calories. I hit the gym immediately afterward, running as fast I could. I felt bloated, terrible, slightly dazed. As I watched the timer click away on the treadmill, I thought about more efficient ways to burn calories. Increase incline, increase speed, run in interval bursts.
I keep thinking--I can't do this much longer. And yet, I continue to do so, after 2.5 weeks of struggle. I can't think of a catalyst to make myself change, because god knows therapy hasn't worked and shit self-promises haven't either. What will be my rock bottom, and do I have to hit rock bottom to change?
I need to follow a set of rules, I think:
1) No more sweets --HA! Yeah right. But I know sugar causes physiological addiction, so I need to cut it out. The first few days will be a struggle, but it must be done.
2) Replace trigger foods. Instead of eating chocolate or cream cheese, eat celery. Continue eating celery. Drink lots of water to the point of nausea. I have to drink myself to nausea because I don't respond to my bodily responses any other way--at least not now.
3) Not eat after meals. This will be a real struggle, so I'm thinking of either brushing my teeth or chewing gum. Gum hasn't worked, so maybe brushing my teeth.
4) Eat clean. If I don't recognize the ingredient, I'm not going to eat it. Again, this will be tough but it will cut out a bunch of hydrogenated oils I've been stuffing into my system.
Saturday, January 4, 2014
Dinner
For dinner, I prepared 200 calorie mash of vegetables, and as I was putting away the dishes, I saw the mound of dinner rolls I purchased earlier and proceeded to consume them. Usually I would destroy through the bag, but today, I had half a giant roll (~150 calories) and stopped. I actually stopped.
You see, stopping is always the hardest part. A relentless impulse repeatedly urges me to FINISH, FINISH, FINISH. Finish that bag of corn nuts. Finish that entire granola bar. Finish both granola bars. Finish that whole box of granola bars. As I crumple to the ground, battling waves of bloated nausea, I continue to shove food into my mouth. A binge is like being beaten, tortured by an invisible entity. If you don't do what it says, it will hurt you. As unreasonable and stupid and petty as it sounds, in that moment, in that utterly crucial moment--you just can't stop. You're scared. You're crippled by anxiety.
But today, I stopped. The first time in a long time where I didn't keep eating after a meal. I'm proud of myself because now I don't have to compulsively exercise, feel bloated, measure the circumference of my thighs.
Jeez, I'm a work in progress.
You see, stopping is always the hardest part. A relentless impulse repeatedly urges me to FINISH, FINISH, FINISH. Finish that bag of corn nuts. Finish that entire granola bar. Finish both granola bars. Finish that whole box of granola bars. As I crumple to the ground, battling waves of bloated nausea, I continue to shove food into my mouth. A binge is like being beaten, tortured by an invisible entity. If you don't do what it says, it will hurt you. As unreasonable and stupid and petty as it sounds, in that moment, in that utterly crucial moment--you just can't stop. You're scared. You're crippled by anxiety.
But today, I stopped. The first time in a long time where I didn't keep eating after a meal. I'm proud of myself because now I don't have to compulsively exercise, feel bloated, measure the circumference of my thighs.
Jeez, I'm a work in progress.
So far so good
This morning, I woke up and despite my best attempts at keeping breakfast at 400 calories, I ate 800. I couldn't go without a handful (or three) of raisins, pita chips, and pretzels. But after starting this blog and knowing that people might possibly read it, I didn't go beyond the 1,000 calorie mark. I was quite proud I didn't do that since I had been binging furiously for the past two weeks, so it's a small sort of accomplishment, I suppose.
For lunch, I ate a shitload of vegetables, some fruit, and sneaked in about 6 oz of yogurt. About 400 calories total. The problem is that even though I'm full, I always "round out" my meal with a bite of something else or two. These bites sometimes add on 300-400 calories, and I really need to cut out this behavior. Because it's not about cutting out these calories--I need to regain my sense of satiety and realize that I am actually comfortable. In fact, as I'm typing, I have a pack of sunflower seeds next to me, and I haven't opened them yet. I feel accomplished, but I can still feel that sliver of anxiety pulsing in the back of my mind, my heart.
I just want to end this day on a high note.
I named this blog Inner Food Battle because as cliche as it sounds, every day is a battle. I haven't won the war. Not yet.
For lunch, I ate a shitload of vegetables, some fruit, and sneaked in about 6 oz of yogurt. About 400 calories total. The problem is that even though I'm full, I always "round out" my meal with a bite of something else or two. These bites sometimes add on 300-400 calories, and I really need to cut out this behavior. Because it's not about cutting out these calories--I need to regain my sense of satiety and realize that I am actually comfortable. In fact, as I'm typing, I have a pack of sunflower seeds next to me, and I haven't opened them yet. I feel accomplished, but I can still feel that sliver of anxiety pulsing in the back of my mind, my heart.
I just want to end this day on a high note.
I named this blog Inner Food Battle because as cliche as it sounds, every day is a battle. I haven't won the war. Not yet.
Friday, January 3, 2014
Midnight Thoughts
I just ate a tub of cream cheese. I don't know why I binge in the moments I do. My muscles tense, my heart palpitates rapidly, I can barely concentrate on anything, and I rummage so quickly through the fridge and pantry that I drop things all over the floor. It's anxiety, and I know it, but there's nothing I can tell myself that can make the physiological symptoms go away.
I binge in the morning, though recently I've started in the evening. I can last twelve hours in between meals, if I feel bad enough. It has nothing to do with body image, though recently I've been very disappointed with my weight gain. I guess two years of restriction finally caught up with me and now I'm paying my dues.
Tomorrow may be better, and I will try to get back to 1500 calories/day. I know I shouldn't be counting and instead eat until I feel satiated, but honestly I can't even tell if my body is satiated now. I can eat thousands of calories more, even if I'm filled to the brim and am gasping for air. I need to stick to counting because it gives me some sense of control.
(But counting is so dangerous. I know the calorie content of almost every food imaginable.)
Tomorrow may be better.
No, tomorrow will be better.
I binge in the morning, though recently I've started in the evening. I can last twelve hours in between meals, if I feel bad enough. It has nothing to do with body image, though recently I've been very disappointed with my weight gain. I guess two years of restriction finally caught up with me and now I'm paying my dues.
Tomorrow may be better, and I will try to get back to 1500 calories/day. I know I shouldn't be counting and instead eat until I feel satiated, but honestly I can't even tell if my body is satiated now. I can eat thousands of calories more, even if I'm filled to the brim and am gasping for air. I need to stick to counting because it gives me some sense of control.
(But counting is so dangerous. I know the calorie content of almost every food imaginable.)
Tomorrow may be better.
No, tomorrow will be better.
So Much for New Years Resolutions
I thought New Years would be a fresh beginning, a cleanse from three months of horrendous binge eating. On January 1st, I told myself--I would stop the daily 3,000-5,000 calorie feasts, the 4-5 hour gym workouts, the canceled dinner plans filled with apologetic excuses, the compulsive weighing, the failures at purging.
I had a little notebook calendar, 365 hopeful days of clean eating.1,200 calorie per day, I told myself. I did that for two years without physical writing records, why couldn't I do it now? When did I begin binging? Why can't I be anorexic again? Why can't I control?
I've researched the cures, the tricks, the remedies. Shit, I've studied them in school. But in that moment, in that excruciating moment of pure anxiety and agony, I can't control myself. I eat myself sick.
So here I am blogging, hoping someone will read about my struggles, my successes. Maybe someone somewhere can keep me accountable as I start tomorrow anew. I won't wake up gassy and bloated, only to find myself rummaging through the fridge for strawberry cream cheese and dinner rolls. Maybe I won't come home from 2 hours at the gym and consume two tins of chocolate covered peanuts. Maybe I won't eat chef boyardee ravioli, cold from the pantry, not even microwaved because if I don't eat it right then and there, I'll lose my mind. Maybe I will actually eat brunch with my friends because I didn't eat an entire chocolate cake that morning and have to cancel because I wasn't "feeling good" or "because my car broke down" or "because I'm hungover". Maybe I won't get on the scale and worry myself into a panic attack because I gained 15 lbs in two months. God, just maybe.
I hope tomorrow I will wake up, eat a light breakfast of 400 calories, hit the gym, come back and have a healthy lunch.
I had a little notebook calendar, 365 hopeful days of clean eating.1,200 calorie per day, I told myself. I did that for two years without physical writing records, why couldn't I do it now? When did I begin binging? Why can't I be anorexic again? Why can't I control?
I've researched the cures, the tricks, the remedies. Shit, I've studied them in school. But in that moment, in that excruciating moment of pure anxiety and agony, I can't control myself. I eat myself sick.
So here I am blogging, hoping someone will read about my struggles, my successes. Maybe someone somewhere can keep me accountable as I start tomorrow anew. I won't wake up gassy and bloated, only to find myself rummaging through the fridge for strawberry cream cheese and dinner rolls. Maybe I won't come home from 2 hours at the gym and consume two tins of chocolate covered peanuts. Maybe I won't eat chef boyardee ravioli, cold from the pantry, not even microwaved because if I don't eat it right then and there, I'll lose my mind. Maybe I will actually eat brunch with my friends because I didn't eat an entire chocolate cake that morning and have to cancel because I wasn't "feeling good" or "because my car broke down" or "because I'm hungover". Maybe I won't get on the scale and worry myself into a panic attack because I gained 15 lbs in two months. God, just maybe.
I hope tomorrow I will wake up, eat a light breakfast of 400 calories, hit the gym, come back and have a healthy lunch.
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