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Donna’s post about bingeing really got me thinking about what it is throws my eating into disarray.

I don’t usually get food crazy because of just one thing. Instead, my worst behaviour needs both an emotional reason and an opportunity.

In no particular order:

  • hormones
  • fear of the unknown – the big picture – like not having a pension or proper jobs but a mortgage that runs till we’re 70.
  • fear of the unknown – the little picture – like work that needs doing but I’m not sure how it will go.
  • anger
  • boredom
  • grief
  • feeling constrained by the weight loss process
  • confused feelings about losing weight (more fear of the future, perhaps?)
  • over-eating in a social situation- ie buying into the “off the wagon” mindset

Alone, each one of those things is usually manageable.  I can go for a walk, talk to someone, go to bed, get myself distracted.  But in certain circumstances, any of those things can be the catalyst for the “perfect storm”. And the circumstances are?

  • being alone
  • having simple carbs in the house, even just as ingredients.
  • having company but being angry at said company (not naming names but he knows who he is. :) )

These situations aren’t like the times that I just sit around with friends and eat too much in a social context.  What I’m talking about is the next level – the step beyond eating too much in a happy, normal, celebratory way.

For some people that will mean eating 2 loaves of bread, a jar of peanut butter, a cake and donuts all in one sitting.  For others it will mean eating a couple of chocolate bars or 2 bowls of cereal.  For me, it’s about making sure that I feel full all day long.  It’s not the quantity of food but the mindset that defines bingeing.

The post-binge shame is such a terrible place to have to pick yourself up from.  It always feels like “sqare one”, as though you’ve made no progress at all, as though you have to figure out the process all over again.

The worst time for me was after my dad died and I was alone with my grief for a whole month.  I would wake up feeling ok but the “must be full” mindset hit by early afternoon and I would self-medicate until bedtime, get up and do it all again.  And every day, after the upsetting experience of visiting my brain-injured mom, I would head to the grocery store, creating the perfect opportunity to think that a bag of Cheetos or a loaf of olive bread looked like a viable supper option.

People who do this are not obese losers who don’t take care of themselves.  We’re people who’ve learned over time that food offers (very) temporary relief from something that we don’t want to deal with in the light.

In the light.  That’s where eating should be done – like the rest of our living.  And we should speak our worries and fears and define our sadness and bring it all into the light.  Healing doesn’t happen in the murky darkness where bingeing takes place. (That’s a note to self.)

Peace, not perfection.

 
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I binged yesterday. At first I was going to say that I don’t know why I binged but I think that might not be true. I think that I’m stressed about a number of changes and uncertainties in my life right now and I don’t do well with change and uncertainty. While the idea of building and moving into a new house is exciting it is also really scary for me to go back into a mortgage, even if it will be quite a small one. I worry about being laid off even though there is no reason to think I will be. I am totally terrified of owing more than I can pay, of being homeless, penniless. What is strange is that I have never been any of these things. We had little money growing up but we were never needy. But this has always been a pretty deep rooted fear of mine. So yesterday I binged to drive away the fear. Unfortunately it doesn’t work, not even while the binge is taking place.

People who binge talk about feeling good while they are eating, they talk about eating to numb the fear/pain whatever. I don’t get that release. Yesterday, I realized that I just felt sad – before, during and after. So obviously the binge didn’t help anything, it only added sadness to the stress. Oh, and a sense of shame. Let’s not forget the shame. Because let’s face it, I’m ashamed that as self aware as I am, I still can’t turn that into change. Maybe the changes that cause me stress also resist allowing me to change myself. Maybe the comfort that I feel in my old bad habits are stronger than any incentive that I can find to replace them with something that will get me to my weight loss goals.

I wonder if I can allow myself to take a chance that I will probably never be homeless, starving, deep in debt and needy? Knowing that binging only makes me sad, can I give it up? Honestly, I don’t know.

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