Conversations in my head

You're weak.

You've failed.

You are a fatty fat fat fatty.

You work so hard, and for what?

To blow it at the last moment,

That need to feed your fat fa..

You know, you can go to hell.

HA! I finally got to you!

Yeah.

But now you have to deal with what you brought on.

You call me weak, a failure, a fatty.

You sit there in the dark recesses of my

Mind and taunt me and you remind

Me of my missteps, of my insecurities.

 

I have looked  back on our conversations.

I have tried to give you understanding.

I have tried to show you compassion.

I have tried to find ways to make your

Hatred work for me--to motivate me

To explore that other side of me that

Is so full of self hatred and self doubt.

I have tried to reconcile that you are

A part of ME.

Truth is, you're just an asshole.

Yes, I am weak

But only after I have spent my strength.  After

I have worn myself weary of standing tall and

Carrying burdens on my shoulders

And on my mind

And on my heart

And on my soul.

I work  hard every day to stay on target.

I use my skills, my ways of

Distracting, of dealing with my stress and

Other emotions in healthier ways.  But

I have only so much strength.  And then

I am weak.
And then I deal with my emotions

The only way I know how--to eat them.

And no, I have not failed.

As a friend recently put it to me, I've

Only failed if I give up.

And I have not.


As another friend said, you
Confuse failure with struggling.

And I will will work to never
Be confused about these again.

Hey, I..

I'm not done.

I have fought you all of my life.

I have worked so hard to defeat you.

And like my monsters before you

I know now I will not, in the end,
Defeat you.

But I will lessen you.

 

Because you, sir, are the weak one.

I am strong because I know I cannot always be.

You are the one that fears failure.

I am brave because I know I will fail, yet I still go on.

You are the one full self doubt.

I trust that I have the intuition, the knowledge and the wisdom

to deal with whatever life throws our way.

You are the lack of self confidence.

I am empowered to search my inner being to find that confidence.

You are the one full of self hate.

I can look beyond that, and, at times, find self grace.

I do not need you, sir.

Now. Or ever.

In other words:

SHUT THE FUCK UP!

Killing Monsters

I've been just on either side of 300 now for the past 6 weeks or so. And I'd be lying if I said it didn't get me down.  It's like I hit a plateau and can't quite find my way back down. Or more like the harder I try to find my way down, the more I eat to punish myself for failing.  We emotional eaters really have strange relationships to food don't we?

And, of course, I'm dealing with my own inner demons, though these days are much better than that recent post.  You know which one.  I'm not going to revisit it.  It kinda scares me.  Anyway.

This morning I remembered something.  Many years ago, I dealt with unwanted thoughts. Not voices, and not intrusive thoughts or thoughts of harming myself or others.  Just think of it as OCD of the mind.  Or think of it as ruminating and obsessing on emotional thought triggers.

I named it my Monster and worked so hard at killing it.  I was seeing a therapist at that time too, and we tried several cognitive strategies to deal with it. I journaled.  I talked about it in therapy.  I tried teflon mind letting those thoughts enter and slip off like an egg on a brand new non stick skillet.  I tried screaming STOP! in my head and turn my attention to other thoughts.  To no avail.

After about a year, I was finally fed up and said to myself that killing it only fed it, only brought it attention.  Berating myself over not being able to kill it made it laugh and grow stronger.

So I stopped trying to kill it.  I walked away and stopped trying to find ways to kill it.  And I woke up one morning, about three weeks later, and I noticed it was dead.

Now here I am, struggling with weight loss again.  I know I've done it before, so why can't I do it now?  It seemed so easy the first time.  All I think about is food and how I'm going to be good today and wonder at which point of the day I'm going to fail and by golly I can make it well into the evening but then the fear of failure is so strong that I eat that bread or bowl of cereal or box of granola bars or leftover spaghetti that the family got to eat but I didn't cause I'm on this stupid diet and can't eat what they eat and goddamit I'm fed up with it and eat it all because the fear of doing so...

is finally released...

once I let myself do it. 

I have a new monster.  And I only realized it this morning.  I realized I can't kill it.  And I realize that's what I've been doing for oh so long.

Tonight, I'm going to try walking away from it and down the slope of this plateau.

And if I can't, so what.  I'll still be just on either side of 300.  Nothing will change except a new day of opportunity will begin tomorrow.

Giving Up Hope (in order to gain even more)

I've come across a quote quite a lot over the last year.  It varies in its composition and who it's attributed to, but the essence is always the same:

Forgiveness means giving up all hope for a different past.

I like it.

It's simple to imagine but so difficult to live by.  But really, I don't think it goes far enough. There is a lot that means giving up all hope for a different past.

Living in the present means giving up all hope for a different past.

Moving forward means giving up all hope for a different past.

Accepting the past means giving up all hope for a different past.

Loving myself means giving up all hope for a different past.

Letting go means finally giving up all hope for a different past.

It is so difficult to let go of ancient hurts and aging anger.  Somehow if one does, one gets the feeling that one is letting the other off the hook.  Even if the one and the other are the same person.   Especially if the one and the other are the same person.

I'm finding it easier, though, as I continue this journey, to find ways to practice this.  While my last post may not be the best example, the truth is that once I wrote it out, I let it go.  Christmas 2011 is in the past and I cannot possibly hope that I will do anything different.I know the past/present/future tenses can get rather convoluted. But as I sit here contemplating not just last weekend but the whole of 2011, I can't think of anything so infused with such simple truth. 

I don't think much of New Years Resolutions, so here is my resolve to accept my past:

With all my faults, 
with all my health problems, with my weight and fat, 

with my weakness, with my failures, 
with all that works to hold me back...
to finally accept all of this as part of myself
and to forgive
and to let go
and to live in the now
and to move forward
and to love myself

means giving up all hope for a different past.

In this way, I do indeed give up.

And giving up hope for the past allows me to hope for the present

and the future.

Happy New Year everyone. 

Let's all let go of the old year, m'kay?

Little Pinpricks

So, Thanksgiving rolls around.  I threw caution to the wind and ate what I wanted…for the noon meal.  Which is exactly as I planned.  Otherwise, I snacked a bit (and I really mean just a bit) on Aunt Katie’s party mix but stuck to the plan to eat when I was hungry.  And I wasn’t hungry again until about 9 that night.  So I had some popcorn.  And that was it.

I am amazed at how food did not control me yesterday.  Then I turn it around and am amazed that I controlled food.

Not that the day wasn’t without it’s bumps.  I’ve often said on this blog that I have had very little experience in the way of receiving insults or judgments based on my weight.  I had forgotten the little comments family makes and passes them off as jokes.

I had started writing a paragraph of what happened and then realized I didn’t really want to go there.  I was going to describe a cousin who made a rude comment and laughed.  It made me mad.  It hurt.  It was on my mind all evening.  For those of you who read my twitter feed, you may have caught it.  But I started introducing my cousin to you as a loathsome ne’er do well who had no station in life to judge me.  What I found as I wrote is that I pity him.  He has had a very hard knock life.  He knows that he’s not successful like most of the cousins are.  He’s had the stack against him from day one as he has a birth defect that I’m sure he’s taken a lot of teasing about.  Maybe even from me when we were kids, I don’t remember.  Teasing may be his only way of trying to fit in; the only way to feel like he has one up on me.

I just don’t have it in me to tear into my cousin in my blog where he will never read it and never be able to defend himself.

So I go on in a more general sense.

As I said, I’ve been lucky that I’ve not experienced a lot of bigotry for my size.  But from my experience yesterday, it is clear that my skin is thin when those little jokes are made “all in good fun”.  I’ve not had the big insults like being called a fat pig from a car of laughing teenagers or some of the other horror stories I’ve read in other blogs.  But the little pinpricks I thought I was ignoring hurt just as much.

Especially when they come from family.  

But even more so when they come from myself. 

I get mad at those little comments.  “You sure you want to eat that?” “Don’t let Kevin near the [insert name of food here] or there won’t be any left.”  “I can’t get my arms around you to hug you.” “If I keep going like I am, I’ll be as big as you.”

(Now that I think about it, I haven’t been lucky at all…except with strangers.)

Thing is, there’s not one of those little jokes (and many others) that I haven’t made to myself.  If their comments won’t shame me into a healthier lifestyle, what makes me think saying the same thing to myself will be any more helpful?

I’ve decided I’m not going to take those little jokes anymore.  A simple “I find that rude. Please don’t make light of what I am.  It is hurtful to who I am” should suffice.  When I make the little comments to myself that is.

Everyone else is getting the finger.

Returning

I have been back to the Room with no View.

The 40 watt light bulb has been replaced with a 75.  The floor is swept. The cobwebs cleared. The cinder block walls scrubbed clean.

The boxes organized and stacked neatly on gray steel shelves.

And the door has been repainted a curious green, but the doorknob turns easy; the rusted lock brushed, polished and oiled, but left undone.

The whispers are silenced.

The chill dampness replaced with a humid warmth, like the atmosphere itself is an embrace.

My room has been a metaphor for fear for so long, so much older than that January post...I can hardly begin to describe the change I find when I return there.  I am stronger than I have been in two years. And my life, both metaphorically and literally, mentally and physically, is reorganizing. Sorting. Falling into places I would not have guessed it would fit.

Yeah, the meds are working.

I realize reading back on that post, I was wrong.  I thought I was describing the hold food had on me.  I know now that that room was pure fear, pure depression, pure exhaustion.  And now, somehow, I have let it all go.  Or most of it at least. 

My wife and I are facing what may be the most challenging chapter in our lives together.  And still, calmness.  What will be, will be. And nothing can change that. But right now I have the present. That is all any of us really own. This moment. That's it. And the past either owns us, or we release it, if we are both strong and lucky, keeping only the memories


Will my room stay so neat and calm? I doubt it. My life cycles in and out, from order to chaos and back.

Isn't it wonderful?

Remembering the Forgotten

I had the most extraordinary experience last evening.  For a brief moment, I remembered what it was like when I had lost all that weight, and was active with running and biking and generally not feeling like crap.  And here's the thing. I didn't experience the anxiety or the self judgment of getting back to that point like I usually do when I think of those years.  No, I experienced a calmness.  I experienced the feelings I had when I was at that point; the pride, the happiness, the physical freedom, the mental freedom. 

I remembered what it was like.  And when I came back to the present, that calmness stayed with me for a moment.  I felt the release of the present stress while remembering the release of the past stress.  I was at peace with myself and within myself.  For a moment.  And then it was gone.

I know that those years were no utopia so my memory is rather rose colored.  But they were happier years.  I want to get back to that calmness and that inner peacefulness.  I think I may have forgiven myself for gaining back the weight in that moment because, as I said, I felt no anxiety or shame for having put it all back on.  I just have to remember I did so.

Sometimes I think and I say out loud that food has a hold on me.  It does not.  I hold on to food as my sanctuary and as my comforter.  Those years I was losing the weight and running, I had let go of food.  I had embraced parts of my life I never thought were in me (me? run? be athletic?  but I'm a band geek!).  I had forgotten that I did that.  I have forgotten how to do that.

What I think I'll do is try to go back to that memory whenever the urge to binge starts it's tickle.

Changing subjects, I last wrote about my struggle with depression.  I have an appointment on Tuesday to begin the process with a new doctor.  Here's hoping.

Discoveries

It started with a memory.

I had been thinking about food and my odd relationship with it and I remembered a friend’s 30th birthday party. They had shish kabob gyro meat done up on the grill and all sorts of things to make Greek goodness.

And soon, as people were done eating, I got nervous.

You see, there was still meat on the buffet table. Delicious gryo meat! I couldn’t stand it. There was meat and no one was going to eat it. Presumably my friend would have put it in a container and kept it as leftovers, but she wasn’t doing it. She left it out there! And no one was eating it! The compulsion to eat it was overwhelming. I tried to be sneaky about it. I tried to hide the fact I was snacking long after everyone else had stopped eating. To this day I don’t know if anyone noticed, but the memory of that shame has not left me after 9 years. I ate about a 1/3 pound of meat that I wasn’t hungry for….simply because no one else was going to and I couldn’t stand it being there. Perhaps a third pound isn’t excessive, but the thoughts accompanying were.

Does this make a lick of goddam sense?

That memory lead to other thoughts. Roast beef, gravy and mashed potatoes. OMG. Whenever we have this, I pig out. And the thought in my head is “who knows when you’re gonna have this again? Better get it while you can.” Pig out city. Same thing with what my family calls goulash (most people would call it chili mac without the chili seasoning). I go ape shit for this stuff and eat bowl after bowl with the same thoughts “Better get it while you can.” Same with tuna & noodles. Same with chop suey. Same with popcorn. Same with macaroni and cheese (homemade with Velveeta, not that boxed stuff).

It’s insanity is what it is.

It is a compulsion from my unconscious mind. These foods are my comfort foods. They are the foods we had growing up. We had at least one of those dishes every week (well, not the roast beef, but since we raised steers it was often enough). I’m sure there some emotional attachment there that I’m going to have to explore someday. And all this brought to mind many other things. Mom couldn’t leave a gas station without a candy bar, and one for each of us boys. There was always an after school snack (sometimes healthy, sometimes not). There was nearly always a bedtime snack. Then there were the things that were scarce: Pop was only on hand if we were sick or having pizza. We didn’t have pizza very often. Chips were only served if we were having burgers and dogs. There is still a part of my mind that considers these things treats and rarely enjoyed despite the fact that I have them all the friggen’ time now.

“Better get it while you can.”

It has never been so clear to me that any health gain for me will not happen until I address this emotional attachment to food. Habits, fears of scarcities, attachments to childhood memories. These things I hadn’t figured on. Here I thought emotional eating meant only to eat as a way to deal with stress and hurt. It goes much deeper than that.

I am grateful for these discoveries.

A friend on Facebook posted a quote from Regina Brett in God Never Blinks:

"Forgiveness is giving up all hope of a better past. At first that sounds harsh, but once you let go of what you wanted the past to be, you can start changing the present and create a better future.”

I don’t know what her book is about or what context this quote comes out of, but boy oh boy it is powerful. Forgiveness is giving up all hope of a better past. Forgiveness of myself is giving up all hope that I won’t eat that gyro meat 9 years ago. It means giving up all hope that I’ll be able to restrain my compulsions of the past. It means giving up all hope that my mother will be a better example to the child within me when it comes to diet. It means to come to the final, inescapable conclusion that the past is set in stone. The hurts inflicted by myself and by others will not be erased and no hope in the world can change what has happened.

The present, however, can be changed. And that is more power than I've ever had before.

I have a lot of work to do.

Option 3

FreeFoto.com

I got out and ran today. I wish I hadn't. I really am too heavy and my ankles are screaming.

I came to a decision recently. I can wait for something to happen the rest of my life.  I can wait for something in my life to change and suddenly all this blubber will magically melt off and food will no longer have its powerful emotional connection.  But waiting isn't doing me a damn bit of good.

I could also do the hard work, count my calories, watch every morsel that passes through my gullet.  I can live my life thinking about food and making conscious decisions to limit myself.  And I can shame myself when I inevitably fail setting up another cycle of emotional sabotage.

Or, I can live my life as if I were already thin and healthy.  I can tell my body that we are where we are and I'm going to live as if we are already over there.  I have a feeling my body will come along for the ride.

I'm choosing option 3. And that's partly why I went out for a run today.  That's the sort of thing I've been waiting to be lighter to do and I have missed it.  Reality is settling in as I ice my ankles, but damn I feel good.  I will have to take it easy until reality catches up with this attitude change.  But I'm not going to stop altogether.

Having made this decision, the Itty Bitty Shitty Committee in my head is trying to veto it,  telling me that I'll treat this as carte blanche to eat what I want, when I want and eventually end up even heavier.  Not true. I will eat as if I'm already healthy and want to stay that way.  I've learned quite a bit about intuitive eating.  I have a lot to learn about emotional eating.I know this isn't a panacea.  This path will have its ups and downs, failures and successes. But I trust that this is a journey worth taking.

Looking back, briefly

I spent part of the afternoon today perusing my older, now defunct blog Amish Guitar. It was a fun little blog where I journaled about teaching myself how to play guitar after reaching the ripe old age of 36. I still wish sometimes that I had kept at it...but I just came to the point where I didn't feel like I had anything more to say.

What struck me today is a certain post I wrote called "After School Special." Apparently the after school special metaphor resonates with me. Anyway, it's a post about learning to be comfortable with my own progress as a guitarist, pushing myself to learn and grow and to not compare my skills with more experienced and talented musicians. Then I read this little gem:

See, the after school specials were right. Most things in life can't be judged against the accomplishments of others even though we often live our lives like we should account for ourselves that way. No, the accomplishments of others can inspire, inform, and encourage us. But our true test is how we judge ourselves against that ideal person we hope to be someday. What we forget is that we need to give ourselves a chance to grow into that person and take pride in the small achievements just as must as the larger ones.

What struck me is that this is equally true when I judge myself against myself. Despite my best efforts, I've been deriding myself for getting heavy again.  I've been comparing myself to my 38 year old self when I dropped 65 pounds.  I struggle with the feelings of failure and disappointment and truly wonder at my younger self's ability to have accomplished his goals.  I've been judging myself against those accomplishments.  I am judging against that ideal person I was and not the ideal person I know I will be someday.

I am not that same man anymore.  Younger Kevin's life was quite different than mine is now.  And I can't keep comparing myself to who I was.  I can only be who I am right here, right now.  And I've made, I think, remarkable progress in the last 6 months in becoming more and more comfortable with accepting myself as I find myself.  Every morning I strive to wake up and be okay with my situation, both my weight & health, but also all the things in my life that bring difficulty. 

Young Kevin can and does inspire me.  What I've learned about health and weight loss informs the decisions I make today.  And I am encouraged that I did it once and I can do it again.

One thing that Young Kevin did not have was an real understanding about how his emotions are so tightly woven into his eating habits--and how to deal with those emotions, how to work through the underlying emotional problems.  I am beginning to learn what emotional eating means and coping skills to deal with those moments.  And I am learning how to accept those uncomfortable emotions that I would try to avoid or heal with food.  I am learning to love myself and accept myself with all my flaws.

I wrote some weeks ago about waking up, looking in the mirror and say to myself "I have kind eyes." I still do that.  It makes all the difference in the world in how I approach my day and how I feel about myself. I am becoming that ideal person I know I will be.

Onions

It's been a bit since I last posted.  To tell the truth, for every two steps forward in getting a handle on my emotional health and it's integrated, interwoven effects on my physical health...it's usually a step backward.  It's like an onion.  Just when I feel I've let somethings go, truly feel that I am over some situation or worked through some negative self image, I find it again at a deeper level....a more basic level.

I have a lot of anger.

Without going into all the details, 2010 started out by a betrayal of a friend.  That friend was also my pastor but I am careful to point out his breach of confidence was rooted in our shared friendship and not his confidential duties as a man of the cloth.  It was final straw and the tipping point in my relationship with him.  I ended up resigning my position as a lay leader in my congregation and pretty much withdrawing from church altogether.  The rest of the church leadership got involved with the pastor in issues that went much deeper than my personal pain, and it ended with him tendering his resignation in June effective at the end of August.

There is no doubt in my mind, though, that he blames me for the majority of his failed ministry with my congregation.  I have the e-mail.

I've consciously let go of my hurt and anger.  It doesn't serve me.  I know that I did not, as he put it, "damage his ability to participate in the relational structure of the congregation..."  I have worked hard to let it go and not let the situation and the memories of the situation control my day to day emotional life.  And I've been rather successful.

But then I peel a layer of the onion.

Things have changed in the way I relate to church, to members of my congregation and to how I experience God.  I went to church today and we installed a new, interim pastor, and I've been moody all afternoon.  Everything has changed.  It isn't over simply because he left.  There is aftermath that continues to affect my life and the lives of others. The situation of the former friend and pastor can be directly linked to my wife's emotional and mental health issues.  The stress of the last year has been central in my weight gain.  I have a lot of anger that I am left with this situation to deal with.

I'm not giving up.  I'll keep peeling back that onion.  Pastor Whosit surely isn't the only thing I'll find I'm sure.  Keeping a positive attitude and squelching the negative self talk is a significant step forward for me given my past and personality.  But denying what's buried deep down will not keep me moving forward.

I've got more work to do.

You know, this isn't a typical Jogging Clydesdale post.  But it was important to write so I think I'll post it anyway.