 "The Warriors" (one of my favorite childhood movies) My friend Ryan (nomorebacon) wrote a really great blog post last week about the Power of the Tribe. He was referring to the power of coming together and helping a fellow blogger (journeybeyondsurvival) get a therapy dog for her chickadee. It was awesome to watch everyone come together and in the blink of an eye raise the multiple thousands of dollars needed to get her the four legger she needs to lead a great life.
I am part of that tribe.
That tribe is a part of me.
I’ve been in a bad place the last couple of days. Normally I could chalk it up to it being “that time of the month” but this time it was purely depression sinking in. Big events are looming in front of me and my husband and with that comes more stress than I was am ready to handle (though handle it I will). On top of that a feeling of being stagnant in my journey and it was a combination that brought some dark clouds over me and my emotional state of not well-being.
I don’t really know how to reach out to people. When I am on top of my game, (the game of the LCJ) I feel confident people want to talk to me, be around me and it’s easier for me to put myself out there to be vulnerable to what others bring to the table. When I am far from being on top of my game I shut down. I begin to think people don’t want to be around me. That they don’t care what I feel or think. That I don’t deserve to be a part of my tribe.
That’s where I’ve been this week.
This post isn’t about where I was.
It’s about where I am.
It’s about my Tribe.
When I started to descend into the darkness of feeling bad about myself I immediately received texts and twitter messages from people I know in real life and people I’ve never laid eyes on and only know them in 140 character conversations. All checking in with me to make sure I was okay. I wasn’t. But I was honest about where I was. They didn’t turn their back on me. They didn’t ignore me, or make me feel like I was being a bother. In fact, they sent me messages like:
“You are NEVER alone”
“I love ya T, stay strong”
“What is today (scale of 1-10 on my depression)?”
“Sending you love, compassion, hugs”
“Blues are okay, just don’t derail your progress. Talk it out, don’t eat it out. We emo eaters must be careful.”
“Sunshine and stars are ALWAYS there. Sometimes we can’t see them behind the clouds and darkness”
“I wish my depression could meet your depression and kick one another’s asses!”
I’m realizing I need this tribe more than they need me and I’m beginning to understand that I can no longer down play the power of having people in my life that lift me up when I am not able to do so for myself. That being said, I’ve also come to understand that while I can work out on my own and break my own sweat there is one other tribe member that I’ve been missing and have decided to go back to seeing Godfather. I don’t need him to tell me how to work out (I’m pretty good at it on my own) but I do need him to give me the all important (important to my emotional psyche) pat on the back and the “good job kid’ that I’ve been missing like you wouldn’t believe. I haven’t really kept the blogging world up on his where abouts lately because I was still getting used to not seeing him every day. He has since moved to Innovative Fitness. I’ve come to understand that he is as much a part of my tribe as anybody else and it’s important to me to keep having him as my trainer.
My tribe is important to me.
My tribe is essential to my success on this journey.
I am essential to my success on this journey.
I am fighting back.
On a scale of 1 – 10 today.
I am a solid 5.5
And that is outstanding!
______________________________________________________________________________
Another thing I’m learning about this LCJ is when I don’t have a goal of some sort, my oomph for being on this journey is pretty much suck ass. This last week was proof of that. I went from doing something nice for myself (getting my toes did) to trying to buy something nice for myself (shopping fiasco) to eating all the crap in my house to purging to saying some very hateful things to myself and finally sitting under one of the darkest clouds I can remember having. One of the reasons for this downfall? I’m not really involved with anything at this point. This is one of the reasons I’m going back to seeing Godfather. Seeing him on a regular basis will keep me focused on making great decisions. It’s also one of the reasons I’ve decided to join the #7daychip challenge put on Brad Gansberg. As a recovering addict, I am well aware of the recovery chip idea and I think it’s a fantastic tribe for me to join. I have a dysfunctional (unhealthy) relationship with food and with my own thought process and I think this will be a great way for me to be aware of both while attempting to earn my #7daychip and beyond.
The great thing is I get to define what standards need to be met in order to earn this chip. After much thought I’ve decided on the following:
*I will not eat mindlessly (no random snacking without first making sure I’m hungry)
*I will drink at least 64 oz of water each day
*I will take my vitamins
*If I think something negative about myself I will say at least three things I like about myself in front of the mirror.
*I will eat consciously ( I will thank my food for keeping me strong and making me healthy)
*I will not eat any chocolate
___________________________________________________________________________
 In case you missed it I started my Great Stair Climb of 2011 at the beginning of January. I am on a mission to climb 13,428 floors (the equivalent of climbing the Empire State Building 132 times). As of today I’ve climbed 16,125 stairs or the equivalent of 1075 floors. This means I’ve climbed the Empire State Building approximately 8.7 times.
I am 8% of the way there!
Climb
Climb
Climb
Until then I’ll stumble along on this path…
This path called life.
It’s been a rough week for me. Emotionally, physically and just about every other “ally” you can think of. What started out as strong and full of fight on Sunday morning, has pretty much deflated and turned to mush on this Sunday morning. This blog post is purely for me and my need to work some shit out. I forget sometimes that the reason I started this blog was so that I could record what I was feeling and going through, not to just get as many subscriptions, views and comments as possible. I’m not writing as much for a few different reasons: one being lack of time due to work constraints but also because I’m spending too much time focused on whether or not I think someone is going to actually read this shit. One of my biggest flaw is that I am too wrapped up in what others think of me.
The other big flaw:
I’m too wrapped up in what I think of myself.
It would be different if the next words coming out of my mouth were “I think too highly of myself”, “I’m better than everyone” “No one is going to be as good as me”. Instead the words are more like “Fuck Tara, not again” “What the fuck is your problem” “Are you ever going to get it right?” “Why do you even try?”
That’s where I am right now and I feel like I’m here more often than not these days. I’ll have a great day emotionally and physically and before I can blink an eye, I’m feeling so crappy about myself I can’t even look in the mirror.
On Wednesday I went out with Val (Seattlerunnergirl) and Sharla (262journey) for a “girl’s night” out. Now to know me is to know I’ve got little to no experience on being “a girl”. I can put on a dress. I can put on some nice shoes. I can cross my legs like a lady but hanging out with friends I consider girly girls and doing girly stuff makes me feel like an ox in a very small glass room. I don’t think it was the actual act of getting a pedicure done that caused the angst but rather the idea of doing something nice for myself that made me feel pretty that caused the angst.
 I get my toes done and feel really pretty. I feel good about hanging out with them and not having a panic attack. I pat myself on the back and call it a win kind of night. Thursday I wanted to keep the “girly” stuff going so I head to Macy’s with a gift card I received during Christmas. I felt confident that I was going to find something girly other than underwear and off I went…
It didn’t go as planned.
In truth, it was the demise of where I am this week and my feeling of “it’s never going to be right with me”. I spent over an hour looking for something in the woman’s department and in that hour I went from “Tara, you got this” to “Tara, what the fuck are you doing here? You don’t belong here. You’re not pretty enough to buy this stuff”…
I left angry.
Disappointed.
Defeated.
Instead of dusting myself off and moving forward, I went home and in anger ate all the crappiest food I could get my hands on. As soon as I started to eat, I knew I was going to make myself purge. I haven’t felt that desire since June and I tried to talk myself out of it. Then I got really mad at myself for even being in the position to think about purging.
I thought I had this shit under control.
I actually had a conversation with myself about what would be worse: keeping the food in my stomach and thinking horrible things about what I ate or get rid of the food and think horrible things about myself for purging. In the end I didn’t keep the food down and my emotional state has been declining ever since. To say it’s declining solely based on the act of purging wouldn’t be accurate. It was the catalyst but it is not the reason I’m still feeling out of sorts even today.
I’m slowing way down emotionally in hopes of being able to get a grip on what’s going on inside my head. My weight is up but only because I’m super stressed out around money and up coming events (we are going to AZ at the end of the month for husband’s surgery) and as of last night his truck broke down and now we’re trying to figure out how we’re going to pay to get it fixed.
I am definitely the bug.
Not the windshield.
It’s hard to convince myself that “this too shall pass”. I know it will. Historically speaking it always has. It’s just taking a lot longer this time. I’m trying to keep calm and stop thinking that I’m going back to a lifestyle that is full of hate and self sabotage.
I know it won’t happen.
It can’t happen.
Just keep swimming.
 I got a comment from my last post “I want off this Path” that has had me thinking pretty heavily the last couple of days about this LCJ I’m on (we’re on). I wanted to share it with you because I think it’s not only one of the most important parts to understand and explore about this journey, but as I get farther along I come across more and more people that feel the same way.
I wrote about wanting to get off the proverbial “path” of this journey. I wanted to just be normal. Not have to think about weight, or moving or trying to figure out why I eat the way I eat and my relationship with food. I didn’t want have to wonder if the next bite I put in my mouth was going to send me into a panic attack / guilt ridden episode or even a triumphant hoorah. I just wanted to go through one day without being consumed with this fucking journey…
Then I got the following comment from a friend of mine over at CalorieKing:
“I know that my comment is at risk for coming across wrong, so if it reads that way, I give you my sincere apologies… but THANK GOODNESS you feel that way! It IS hard. It IS a struggle that when the shiny newness of a new goal wears off, what is left is the rugged struggle. Don’t get me wrong, I’m am very sorry that there is a struggle for you. It’s just that you are such an inspiration – such a “superhuman” force who has achieved what most people fail at – that if YOU have these issues, it means there is hope for the rest of us too. The fact that I can recognize that your feelings of wanting “off” are normal and that you are to be commended for sticking with it even when things are hard… that gives me permission that I’m not a failure for feeling the same way. That just because I struggle doesn’t mean I’ve failed, but that I’m experiencing the same emotions as someone who I admire. You give us hope, and for that I THANK YOU”
It was followed with this message sent to me from the same person:
“I had left a message on your blog yesterday and I’m afraid it came out wrong. I noticed that it is still in moderation – please feel free to delete. I just think so highly of you, your journey, your achievements, and your amazing ability to articulate what is going on in your heart. Even when it’s anguish, you are able to speak so clearly. I admire all of that. And so the “thank goodness” part wasn’t at all because I thought you should feel that way. It makes me hurt reading about your hurt. It was a feeling that someone who is so AMAZING can be so raw and relatable – that if you, a superstar, can achieve and still have real emotions, then there is hope. Anyway, I probably made it worse and I hope I didn’t make you feel bad. I wish you the very best.”
I knew when I read her original comment it was never intended to be the way she thought it was coming across. I knew exactly what she was trying to say: Even in success there is struggle and that is something we can all relate too no matter where we are on this journey.
Let me repeat that:
Even in success there is struggle.
Last year when I started this journey I had such a grandiose fantasy of what it would be like if I ever got down to goal weight. It would be awesome. All my emotional problems that I carried for the first 40 years of my life would float away as if I was a child letting go of my helium balloon. I would feel nothing but joy as I skipped from shop to shop, indulging in my every clothing whim. I would shine bright every time I sat down to eat meal knowing I would be in absolute control.
The pot of gold was waiting for me…
Wait a minute…
WAIT JUST A MINUTE!!!
There is no pot of gold?
You mean I’m going to get to goal weight and I’ll still struggle? I won’t let go of my emotional problems? I’ll still cry going into clothing stores and spend hours and hours looking for something to buy only to leave empty handed? That bright light is actually my phone back light shining as I tweet my way through a meal and use the hashtag #isitevergoingtogetanyeasier?
You’re joking right?
No.
I’m not joking.
There is no pot at the end of the rainbow.
The reason there is no pot of gold at the end of the rainbow? Because the rainbow never ends. Let me repeat that: THE RAINBOW NEVER ENDS. Am I happier? Oh hell yes. I am more present today than I have ever been in my entire life. Am I stronger? Oh hell yes. My physical and emotional armor is thick and ready for battle. Am I more brave? Oh hell yes. I know now that having the courage to try is the stepping stone to actually succeeding. Am I less fearful? Oh hell yes. I know now that facing my fears makes them dissipate faster than if I turned my back on them.
Do I still struggle with this Life Changing Journey?
Probably more so now that when I didn’t give a crap about my life. I care about me. I care about my well being. I care about my emotional health, my physical health and about where my path is taking me. Turning to food or letting depression creep up on me like an old lover, is no longer an option. Remaining present and open to my emotions and feelings is the ONLY OPTION now. Yes, there days when I want off this path. Will it ever happen?
No.
Are you looking for that pot of gold?
I wish more than anything I could tell you it will be waiting for you. I wish I could tell you the grass really is greener over here. It’s not. Does that mean you throw up your hands and stop moving forward? Does it mean you hit the snooze button and sleep through another morning without breaking a sweat? Does it mean you sit on the couch and wonder what is the point of taking control of your life?
On the contrary…
Stop looking for the pot of gold and focus on following the rainbow.
It’s beautiful.
It goes on forever.
It’s worth every step.
This is a life long journey.
Some days I am prepared to fight the good fight. I eat consciously. I move consciously. I live consciously. Other days I feel like crawling into the refrigerator and eating my way through every emotion I’m trying to forget. Some days I want to sit on the couch, deaden the feelings and slip into the background and be unseen.
I’d like to say this week has been the former.
But it’s been the latter.
My emotional plate has been over flowing and in turn it has made the plates from which I eat over flowing. I’d like to point the finger at the recent holiday season but what I need to do is point the finger at who is to blame: ME. I’m eating mindlessly. I’m eating often. I’m eating when I’m not hungry. I’m eating because I’m bored. I’m eating because I’m sad. I’m eating because I’m frustrated. I’m eating because my relationship with my husband has been a little strained. I’m eating because (insert whatever the fuck you want here cause it’s causing me to eat).
I try making excuses that it’s okay.
“I’m still under goal weight”
My initial goal weight was 170 and today it’s at 167. Granted I’ve been able to maintain the weight loss for the last two months but 170 was just an arbitrary number. I felt really good when I was at 162 and I would like to shoot for 160. Over the last two weeks it’s been steadily creeping closer to 170 and I don’t like the way it feels.
“I’m trying to eat intuitively”
Eating intuitively means eating when you’re truly hungry and not based on emotions. This has not been happening. I’ve been eating purely out of emotion more often than not. While I wouldn’t say my panic around food has been at an all time high, it’s been pretty high up there. I’m still packing more food than I probably need and instead of making it last throughout the day I’m eating it all within a few hours.
“I’ve lost 105 pounds so I deserve to eat”
I can fit into a small shirt (so I deserve to eat). My pants are loose (so I deserve to eat). I ran 7 miles (so I deserve to eat). I didn’t eat any chocolate (so I deserve to eat).
But to be honest, it comes down to my emotional well being isn’t well and it isn’t too much being right now. I’ve put myself into a position of being stressed out, over worked and once again turning to food to help cope with the emotions.
Yes, I am aware it’s happening and so I’ll pat myself on the back for that. Yes I am emotionally stronger and more consciously present than I ever have been so I’ll pat myself on the back for that too. Again, I know how I feel today (this week, this month) may or may not be the way I feel tomorrow (next week, next month) but just once I would like to wake up and say to myself “This is the end of my emotional journey” and be done with my feelings.
A life long journey…
That some days I wish I wasn’t on.
Another Year Gone By.
365 days we wished we had done something to take control of our life. Every day we woke up and thought to ourselves “Today is the day” and then as quickly as that thought came, it disappeared. It disappeared behind bad food choices and long hours on the couch aimlessly flipping through channels on the television. It disappeared behind the relentless voices in our head that say ‘you can’t” or “you never will” or “what’s the point”. It disappeared behind the eyes that stared back at us from the mirror…
Another Year Begins Again.
It’s a new day for us. Today IS the day we are going to stand up and face those demons and with a little perseverance we ARE going to make better food choices. It doesn’t have to be all or nothing. Just something small that we know makes a difference. Maybe we drink a glass of water first thing in the morning instead of reaching for that diet coke. Maybe we cut our consumption meat in half and double up on vegetables. Maybe we take the stairs half way up to our 9 – 5 cubicle job and ride the elevator the rest of the way. Maybe instead of wishing the person in the mirror would tell us what to do, we’ll take the initiative and tell the person in the mirror what we’re going to do.
It’s scary being in a world where fast food is advertised every minute on some damn channel and on every corner in our neighborhoods. Within walking distance of my home there is a Kentucky Fried Chicken, Jack in the Box, Little Cesar’s Pizza and Baskin Robbins ice cream joint (in fact, they are all in the same complex). Not to mention all of the small convenient stores that wouldn’t know what a piece of fruit is if I smacked them in their face with one. It’s scary being in a world where watching five hours of television is the norm and one out of four of us are carrying around enough weight to be considered obese.
But want to know what’s even more scarier?
NOT LIVING.
What if we’re not living up to our potential? What if there is something so great out there waiting for us to discover it and yet we’ll never know because we’re afraid to stand up and take control? What if instead of spending another year wishing we “had” taken control we get out there and take back what we deserve to have: A life worth living? What if right now we look at that person staring back at us in the mirror and we proclaim “I may not love myself enough to make all the changes but I LOVE MYSELF ENOUGH TO START SOMEWHERE” and then do it. We don’t need to hide behind fatty foods and XXL shirts any longer. We don’t have to hide by sitting on the couch day in and day out and wonder when enough will be enough.
Enough is Enough Right Now!
Another Year is Going By
At this very moment, we can choose to live in fear and be emotionally dead to our surroundings or we can choose to WAKE UP and be free of our past and take one step toward our future. At this very moment, we can throw up our hands, surrender and live in a darkness that chokes the very life we deserve to live. Or we can firmly plant our feet, hands balled into fists and stare down that darkness until a light shines from us so bright that it paves the way in front of us and shows us that there is possibility.
What are You Choosing Today?
That’s a big number.
Yesterday marked the one year anniversary of beginning my weight loss journey. On December 29th 2009 I decided enough was enough. I didn’t want to be fat anymore. I didn’t want the label “morbidly obese”. I didn’t want my thighs to rub together or have to pick my clothes according to how many x’s were on the tag. I didn’t want to sit in a chair and have the arms dig into my hips or layer my clothes during the summer months because I would rather be hot (and grossly sweaty) and hide my fat. Most importantly I didn’t want to be absent in my surroundings any longer.
I began to move more. I watched the food I put in my mouth. I began to participate in my environment. One of the biggest decisions I made as I started this journey was to end my membership to World of Warcraft. Now if you’ve been on this journey with me from the beginning, you already know how much of an impact this game had on my life. If not, just trust me when I tell you it helped me get to a lovely weight of 270, fueled my depression and for the most part was the only thing I did for the previous 5 years.
 In order for me to play, I had what’s called an “Authenticator”. I would push that little black button and it would spit out a six digit number that I would then enter on my computer screen in order to get to the game. I would then proceed to play for hours and hours. Pretending to be something that I wasn’t. Building relationships with other people who I only knew by character names. Riding off into the proverbial sunset hoping that at the end of the game I would find happiness. When I decided to end my subscription, I kept that authenticator on my key chain to remind me that WoW was not where my life was. To remind me that here was where my life was: being present, being mindful and just being me.
I decided a few months back that on my one year anniversary I would hit that black button one final time. It wouldn’t be to log into WoW and get lost in a reality that no longer exists for me. It wouldn’t be to hide from who I am and to fantasize about what I want to become. I am who I want to become. The journey has been difficult. It has been full of doubt, fear and anxiety. Riddled with pain, confusion and sadness. It is that same journey that I felt pride, faith, and understanding and filled with love, clarity and pure happiness as I moved away from a past that had no hold on me and toward a life that has been waiting patiently for me to show up and be present.
When I pushed that number it was going to represent something that I would do for the entire year of 2011. It would involve physically moving, something I didn’t do for so long. It would be a daily reminder of the life I will NEVER return to.
Now six digits is a large number. In order for this to be a successful move in the right direction, the goal needs to be achievable yet challenging. Something that needs to be done on a regular basis or it will get a little out of control but something that doesn’t take too much time out of my daily life.
 So on my one year anniversary I kept my word. I pushed that black button and it spit out that delicious number: 201421. The movement? It’s how many stairs I’m going to climb. That’s right people, I’m going to climb the equivalent of approximately 13,428 flights of stairs (average of 15 stairs per floor). That’s the equivalent of climbing the Empire State 108 times. I’ll be using the stair machine at my gym to keep accurate calculations. Other daily steps will not be counted. In order to accomplish this goal I will need to climb an average of 37 flights of stairs each day for 365 days. Not only possible but absolutely achievable. I won’t be able to get to the gym everyday so I’ll need to make sure to bank stairs when I can.
So there ya go! Happy weight loss anniversary to me! January 1, 2011 I’ll begin climbing stairs and getting even farther away from the life that no longer defines me!
It’s Christmas Morning.
My husband had to work today so I’m sitting here in the early morning hours a little lonely. Dogs sprawled on the floor and couch with a roaring fire keeping us warm. House a little messier this morning than it was yesterday as we got ready to leave to spend Christmas Eve with my husband’s parents and sister. Remnants of wrapping paper, gift boxes and stockings strewn about waiting to be cleaned up and put away so that we can say goodbye to another Christmas, and prepare for coming New Year…
I really should be cleaning.
I should be filling the dishwasher.
I should be making the bed.
I should at least be drinking some coffee.
Instead I’m looking at one of my Christmas gifts from my husband.
Knowing we were going to be spending Christmas Eve with his parents we took most of our gifts to each other with us to open with them. All except the “Big One”. You know, the one that you really think is going to be a home run in the gift department. The one that is just as exciting for you to watch as they rip it open and proclaim “BEST GIFT EVER”. The one where you silently pat yourself on the back and think “Yep, I’m a rockstar”…
Funny thing.
The home run gift my husband got me, wasn’t the one he thought it was. Oh now don’t get me wrong, his initial “home run” gift is just about the coolest thing I could ask for. I had no idea he was even paying attention (husbands actually pay attention?!!?) when I happened to mention a while back that I wish I had a Garmin for running. It’s the latest and greatest gadget and to know me is to know I love my gadgets. I definitely proclaimed “BEST.GIFT.EVER” as I looked inside the gift box.
However…
 The home run gift, the one that brought tears to my eyes, the one that makes me grateful to be the wife of a man that loves me immensely is the box in which he lovingly placed that Garmin.
“For every time you choose to pass”
“For every ounce of food not eaten”
“Just keep swimming”
“For every green veggie on your plate”
“For Caring”
“For jumping in head first”
“For being creative”
“For helping so many others”
“For every time you smile”
“For trying until you’re successful”
“For every time you say Thank You”
“Because I am proud of you”
“Because you are proud of yourself”
“Because you are my hero”
“Because you work hard and deserve it”
“Go Tara Go”
“Because you are amazing”
“Because you love and the world loves back and I will love you forever”
Best. Gift. Ever.
I’m at a loss for words to describe what it feels like to read words like his and to know that they are for me. To know that I’ve made enough of a difference in my life that it has affected the lives of those around me and especially the life of my husband is almost too much for me to think about. It brings up so many different emotions that all I can do is sit quietly and allow the tears to fall on this quiet Christmas morning.
I won’t lie: They are not all tears of love and joy. They are also tears of frustration for having let myself go for so long before I decided to get up and move. Tears of sadness as I remember the person that used to inhabit my mind, body and spirit. Tears of anger as I think about a childhood that took my innocence, my love for life and how hard I had to fight as an adult to get back to a starting point worth fighting for. Tears for all the emotions I denied myself for so long…
Above all tears of JOY and LOVE.
Today I will spend the time alone, cleaning up my tiny little house. Throwing away wrapping paper and vacuuming up the tinsel. In a few days, life will return to its hectic schedule. Bills to be paid. Work to be done. The Christmas decorations will go back into the storage for another 345ish days and we will once again be on the hunt for the “home run” gift for 2011.
Sometimes its not the gift you put in the box that is important.
But rather the love that surrounds it.
Merry Christmas.
 Or at least I think I’m ready to talk about my issues with food. Every time I sit down to hash out this post, my mind tries to intervene. I start to think maybe I don’t really need to write about it. Maybe nothing I say is going to be important enough to put here. Maybe how I feel about my food is just too damn crazy and if I let the rest of the world (or at least the few that read this) then it’s just going to confirm that I’m making too much out of this whole intuitive eating thing. But it’s in those thoughts that pass through my mind that I know that how I feel about food / how I deal with food / how I consume food has been a struggle since I was a very small child and it is just as much a part of this LCJ as everything else.
A while back I wrote THIS post about starting my IEJ since making goal weight and what I’ve learned about my relationship with food. When I stopped counting calories I didn’t know the first thing about Intuitive Eating. In fact, I didn’t even know what it meant until I saw a few people on twitter throwing the word around.
Intuitive eating as defined by Evelyn Tribole and Elyse Resch:
Intuitive eating is an approach that teaches you how to create a healthy relationship with your food, mind, and body–where you ultimately become the expert of your own body. You learn how to distinguish between physical and emotional feelings, and gain a sense of body wisdom. It’s also a process of making peace with food—so that you no longer have constant “food worry” thoughts. It’s knowing that your health and your worth as a person do not change, because you ate a food that you had labeled as “bad” or “fattening”.
 So after almost a year of religiously counting calories and tracking my food I have decided that Intuitive Eating is going to be the way that I want to go. I mean seriously, who doesn’t want a healthy relationship with food? Who doesn’t want to be able to eat without guilt or shame or a sense of panic? Who doesn’t want to be able to feel an emotion without looking in the refrigerator or cupboard for some “hand to mouth” therapy? Who wouldn’t like to eat without checking the calorie count or writing it down on a piece of paper? Don’t get me wrong, counting calories and tracking my food was tremendously beneficial. It helped me lose over 100 pounds and it’s a tool I can depend on if I need to take a step back for any reason. However, this journey is about learning to trust myself with food, understanding why I feel the way I do about food, and in time taking both of those ideas / concepts and applying them to life.
I can’t write about everything I’ve learned in the short amount of time I’ve been reading about Intuitive Eating but I can say it has been nothing short of eye opening. On my last post about Intuitive eating I made a short (but very important) bullet list of some of the things I knew to be true about my relationship with food and the very first bullet was this:
I eat almost consistently in survival mode
Coming from a home where the consumption of alcohol was more important then the raising of the children that lived under the roof of that home, it’s not surprising that I learned at a very early age to eat out of survival. My older brothers didn’t really step in to take care of me (they had their own manifestations of having an alcoholic mother) so as far back as I can remember I had to cook / prepare food on my own. I wasn’t a teenager…I remember making meals as young as being in kindergarten. Because we were low-income I got free breakfast and lunch at school, but at night I was on my own.
You might be surprised to know this but kindergartners don’t come with an innate ability to cook. I did the best I could. Sandwiches made from peanut butter, cereal and syrup or with half packages of bologna and several slices of government issued cheese. Whole boxes of Macaroni. Bags of marshmallows (and for kicks roasting them over a candle in my bedroom) and some days just resorting to eating sugar out of a bowl while sitting at the dining room table.
It was during those early years I began to worry that the food would run out. I didn’t have money (unless I stole it from my mother – that’s a different story). I didn’t shop. I just ate what was there in the cupboards and magically it would reappear. I began to have serious fears that the food would run out and I would never eat again. It was in that fear that I started to over eat. I didn’t have the necessary adult supervision to help me with portion control. I just ate. Sometimes it was because I was bored. Sometimes it was because I found friendship in my food but when I began to eat because I was afraid the food was going to run out, that’s when it got out of control.
Now logically as an adult, I know that the food will not run out. I live in a society that allows me to have access to food at any given time. Unfortunately my brain is not wired just yet to understand this. Every time I eat, I’m still eating in survival mode. I put too much food on my plate because I think it’s going to run out and then I HAVE to eat everything on my plate because a) I was forced to clean my plate when my mom did participate in meals and b) I’m afraid at some point I won’t have access to food therefore I need to overeat in order to stay calm and not worry that the food is going to run out. If my stomach is beyond full (to the point of painful fullness) and the food runs out, I have stomach full of food to last until I can find more food.
Is this making sense?
Even when I started this journey and began to make “healthier” choices, I ate out of quantity rather than quality. I would’ve rather of eaten an entire 2 pound bag of baby carrots than something smaller, more satisfying and the same amount of calories.
Not eating out of survival has been a tough change in my thought process. I’m learning to allow myself to continue to have those thoughts but also combat them with logical thinking:
“The food is going to run out”
“Tara, you know that’s not possible. The store is right down the street and you can go buy more food”
“I need to keep eating because what if something happens and I can’t get to food”
“Tara, think back over your adult life and think about a time when that happened? You can’t because it’s never happened”
“I need to fill my plate up with as much food as I can because if I go back for seconds, the food will be gone”
“Tara, it’s highly unlikely the food will be gone and if it is you can always cook something else or stop at the store”
“Even though my plate is full of food, I need to eat out of the pan on the stove just in case I come back and the food is gone”
“Even if for some reason, the pan is empty and you’re still hungry there are plenty of other food options left and you can have more food”
 So my first step in eating intuitively is understanding that while I want to fill my plate like this picture over here, it’s not necessary for me to live like this any longer. I don’t have to be fearful that I won’t have access to food. My fear is irrational because of what happened as a child. I am an adult and I provide for my well being now. Not my absent / alcoholic mother. I’m pretty confident that if I called any of my friends and said I needed a meal, they wouldn’t let me go hungry. I can’t rationalize the concept that food will run out any longer. While it is possible it’s not probable.
Eating out of survival.
Necessary as a child.
Not needed any longer.
I knew when I wrote my last post I should have waited just a little longer…
As I began to write it, I could feel all the negativity pouring out of me. One of the most important parts of this LCJ that I’ve learned is negativity has very little room in my life. I’ve worked hard to stay in the moment and remind myself that bad feelings are usually temporary. In the past I would have let negativity fester like an infected wound. I would have picked at it until it bled and then pulled the scab off of it until all that remained was a scar to continue to remind myself how much I hated myself.
I didn’t like the words coming off of my fingers:
ANGER
DISAPPOINTMENT
DISGUST
Those are no longer words that I allow myself to define who I am. They don’t belong. I was in a lot of pain and in that pain I allowed negativity to creep into my emotional state of well-being. I stopped writing because I didn’t want to continue to validate how I was feeling about myself. I watched a movie, iced my foot and spent some much needed time inside my head.
“I am a runner”
“Pain does not define me”
“I will recover”
“I deserve to heal”
WHAT?
I deserve to heal? It never occurred to me that taking the much needed time to heal my foot was not because I was weak and didn’t know how to be successful in my journey but was because I deserved to heal. Then it hit me: I was self sabotaging myself just as much as if I was eating a gallon of ice cream because I was mad. I was mad because at 40 I decided to do something about my weight (physical and emotional) instead of when I was in my 20’s or 30’s. I was mad because I’m still trying to figure out this whole running thing and I got hurt in the process. I was mad because for the first time in my life I’m really moving physically and here I am too hurt to even put my foot on the floor.
Forcing myself to run when it’s not comfortable was (and is) just another way of letting the negativity fester. Thinking that I deserved to feel pain because it proved that I don’t know how to be successful was (and is) another way of pulling off the proverbial scab over and over again until an emotional scar appears.
Well that’s not who I am.
Not Today.
Not Ever.
Period.
By the end of Thursday night I was feeling 100% better (both emotionally and with my achilles). I got to talk with Michael and learn first hand that I shouldn’t be scared to tell someone that I might not be able to run a race. I had decided to step up to the starting line for the upcoming 10k with the mutual understanding that this was not a race for time but rather a race to finish: even if that meant I walked for most of it. It was more important for my emotional well being to at least try to do the race then not try at all.
I stepped up to the starting line this morning knowing I might feel some pain, knowing I might walk more than normal and knowing I might be slower than I would like to be. I also stepped up knowing that my awesome running partner was not going to be mad, disgusted or disappointed if I needed to adjust what I was doing. That negative thinking was all EFT and she hadn’t been invited to this party.
I ran.
I felt very little pain.
So many awesome things came out of this race. I ran my fastest 10k (56:55). I ran a consistent 9:11 mile (my goal for 2010 was to run a consistent 10 min mile). I placed 5th out of my age division (I’ve NEVER placed in anything). More importantly I crossed that finish line knowing I deserve to heal not because I am weak…
But because I AM STRONG!
I have it.
I have no idea how this particular blog post is going to pan out. I have a lot on my mind. Most of it fear based and probably a little on the negative Nancy side but I need to get this out. I tried to let my mind process what I’m feeling but so far it’s done nothing but left me in tears, panicky and wanting to stuff my face with enough chocolate to feed a small village.
This post isn’t about the specifics of the pain: My Achilles hurts bad, I didn’t take care of it the way I should have. I thought I could grit my teeth, continue to run and it would go away. It didn’t. I’m now considering paying out-of-pocket (Neither my husband or myself have insurance) to see a sports medicine doctor /physical therapist to figure out how to really get this healed up.
This post is about the mind games EFT started playing on me immediately after my Achilles started to hurt more than I’ve ever remember it hurting yesterday. Even right now as I’m trying to get my words onto this blog, EFT is screaming that I’m a failure and there is no point in even blogging because nothing I say or do will make the situation better and I should just close up shop and call it a day. My fingers are stuck on the keyboard. I’m staring at the screen trying to tell myself to keep going, keep typing, get those thoughts and feelings out so that they don’t fester inside of me.
I’m experiencing a lot of fear right now.
The pain in my foot is almost unbearable. Along with that pain comes the inability to stay in the moment. I am all over the board in the way I am thinking about myself. I’m convinced the pain will never go away. I’m convinced I’ll never run again. I’m convinced that I’m going to gain all the weight back. I’m convinced all those recorded tapes in my mind are coming true and that I am a failure. I’m afraid to call my friend Michael and tell him that maybe the 10k race on Saturday is a no-go. I’m afraid to admit that this pain is more than I’m prepared to handle. I’m afraid that the way I feel about myself right now will never go away.
My husband told me to talk to myself like a would a friend that had come to me with these thoughts but I can’t. I feel like I don’t deserve to hear what my friends would tell me or what I would tell my friends. Listening would entail taking care of myself and to be totally honest these feelings of anger / disgust / disappointment are pushing any logical thought process out the door.
I’m mad.
I wouldn’t be mad at a friend if they were hurt.
I’m disgusted.
I wouldn’t be disgusted if a friend told me the pain is causing them eat uncontrollably.
I’m disappointed.
I wouldn’t be disappointed if a friend had to back out of a race due to pain.
I can’t go on with this post because my mind is filled with negative thoughts and I think I need a nap before I bust open another xmas bag of homemade chocolate. I tried to work it out here but I’m at a stand still. No use in forcing myself to write something…
|
|
