I've got some active avoidance going on with everything OA right now. I'm still going to one meeting a week, but no calls or writing. I've gained back 40 of the 100 I lost. So serious self-loathing going on. But I'm still hanging in there and haven't had sweets for at least four weeks. So I got that going for me.
Under certain definitions of abstinence I’ve been in relapse since spring. Messing with my food was just a blatant symptom. Long before I started “getting away with” slips in my food I was abandoning the parts of my program that keep me abstinent.
How far did I go in relapse? All the way down baby.
Sugar! I dove, teeth first, into sugar in November. I ate a tiny piece of Halloween candy in the office, followed by three more pieces, followed by a trip to the vending machine, followed by two months of miserable binging.
One evening at a time, I worked through most of the foods I had abstained from for three years. My disease had indeed been doing pushups in the parking lot as I sat in meetings. It was stronger than before but now I was mostly conscience through all the food. There was very little unconscious eating for me this time. I made the choice over and over to binge just one more night. I didn’t get the release I got before OA though. I had a couple 24 hours without sugar, but they never lasted through temptation.
It didn’t take long for all the tiny miracles of program to disappear once I hit the sugar. I isolated, over-slept, and I stopped doing the little chores that I had started taking for granted. Garbage built up at an alarming rate. Wrappers and takeout containers once again formed a ridge around my recliner. I lost motivation to put out the garbage every week. Eventually I stopped walking to the garbage can and just let wrappers, boxes and bags fall where I was. Nasty and unpleasant to live in. I had regressed completely to my most cave-like dwelling.
I did continue to attend one of my three meetings, but one isn’t enough. Often I was the only one there at my remaining meeting; therefore it wasn’t a meeting at all. I missed eight weeks of my Sunday night meeting before I dragged myself back. I took the meeting bag for a month so I had no excuse to miss. I still have not returned to my Tuesday night meeting.
So, I haven’t had sugar for three weeks now. I’m mostly stuck to my new food plan (still too many fat grams and I have trouble getting all my veggies in).
I really need to work my steps, which begins with calling my sponsor and taking her suggestions. I know that without step work I’m just dieting. Since dieting does not work for me, I better get my ass in gear.
My 39th birthday is next Wednesday. I’ve been doing some minor freaking out at being so close to 40. Suddenly I’ve got an arbitrary deadline to hit for a whole list of things I ought to do before I turn the big Four-O. I’ve been talking about it with friends, my sponsor and sharing at OA meetings.
Mostly people who don’t know me outside of meetings are shocked that I’m in my late thirties; they tend to think I’m in my late twenties. This doesn’t bother me, but it isn’t flattering either. Maybe it’s my diseased mind, but I think my weight keeps my skin from looking wrinkled (filled out flesh doesn’t fold easily) and I have a younger lifestyle than many of my peers. I’m single, live alone, no kids and no yard to tend.
The no kids thing is getting to me again. I’ve laughed at biological clock pangs before. Surely an educated woman who understands that my genetics are just trying to replicate themselves should be immune to this primal instinct. Apparently not. I’m not even sane enough to date, but I find myself thinking I would be a good mom. Nuts she is.
I haven’t been blogging about my program much. I haven’t been happy with myself. I have maintained, gained and lost the same 4 pounds since spring. I continue to go to my three meetings a week. I talk with OAs, but I wasn’t really working my program. I have made no effort to finish my 9th step amends. I’ve not been reading, writing, calling my sponsor enough or calling anyone other than my close OA friends. My abstinence started slipping, bit by bit.
I’m getting back on track. I’m focusing on the spiritual side of my program and the emotional and physical are realigning. I’ll write more about my food slips and my one binge day in future posts. That is my intention.
Keep coming back, it works when you work it.
I watched Kung Fu Panda on Saturday with my sister and nephews. I liked it, not loved it, but a sweet enjoyable movie. What made me laugh was realizing that Po, the panda voiced by Jack Black is a compulsive overeater. Don't believe me? That bear would do anything for food when upset. He broke through cabinet doors, climbed crazy heights and had no idea what he was doing until it was pointed out. The master used his drive for food to train him. They battled over dumplings. To climb to a impossible rooftop he pictured an almond cookie to get himself up there. It was funny to me, but if they replaced that with alcohol or heroin it would be just as accurate but unsuitable for children. (Unless this was a 1920s cartoon, then it would be a jug with XXX on it instead of cookies.)
Sigh.
It has been really hard for me to work my program lately. I still go to meetings and take calls. I even make calls. I've called my sponsor more in the last few weeks than I have for a long time. I'm just not feeling it.
I feel irritated by fellow OAers who don't stay consistent in meeting attendance. So many regulars aren't showing up anymore. It's frustrating. I really don't want to carry the key or lead meetings every week. I don't like being the only sponsor at a meeting. I much prefer my Sunday meeting where there are often 12 people and 9 are sponsors. I've grown impatient with those who haven't moved forward in their programs. There are so many people who are afraid to sponsor because they don't feel good enough. Nobody would ever sponsor if that were the criteria.
So what's going on that I want to take everybody's inventory but my own? I haven't moving in step 9 for months. Sure I do living amends all the time, just did some today. But I need to find someone I worked for 21 years ago and I don't really want to put in the time and effort.
Also still farting around with food plan changes. My food got a bit loosey-goosey for a bit there. I've been losing and gaining the same two pounds for months now. My food is clean this week and that feels better.
I talked my attitude over with my sponsor. She says I'm totally normal and this is a normal phase in my program. It feels good to be average. I resent like hell that the same effort I put in for the last few years isn't enough to keep me abstinent now, but it is awesome that I'm just an average compulsive overeater and this this too shall pass. I just have to keep showing up and working to the best of my ability each day.
Ugh. I read an article on becoming an early morning person instead of a night owl. I think I need to implement the steps. The main changes would be getting up at the same time even on weekends (Yuck!) and on awakening go outside for a 30 minute walk (What? Yuck, yuck, yuck!) There are a few other things, but those are the two that would be the biggest changes. I say I want to get to work on time consistently and become reliable. I'm I willing to actually make the changes that would make that happen?
Stay tuned...
...until it's about the food again.
This comic has had me chuckling for a while now. It's called Stove Ownership:
I went through a bacon phase, an onion ring phase*, stove-top popcorn, Stove-top Stuffing, Jiffy mix corn bread, biscuits from a can, and soup. Soup was definitely the healthiest cooking phase I went through. It was the zero-point soup from WW. I finally learned my uppermost garlic tolerance in my weekly soup-making ritual. There are probably others I just cannot recall.
I'm teetering on the edge of a new cooking phase in my life. My food plan needs to change and I'm resisting like I'm a newbie. I know I need to reduce my main dish portions and increase the veggies. I. Do. Not. Want. To. Surrender? Tosh! Not me, I can do this on my own! (Donning my cape and saucy mask, cue hero music.)
Logically I know the only way to change my eating to be loving and where it needs to be is to surrender to HP. Emotionally I'm three, six and 13 years-old. No! You suck and I hate you! It just feels impossible and I'm going to have to change my eating in a radical way that hasn't had to happen since I went to three meals a day with nothing in-between. Scary.
I need to talk with my sponsor more and I'm running from that too. What goes into my mouth isn't different than what it's been for a while. The difference is that I feel guilty that I'm still eating my enormous portions. My sponsor says abstinence is guilt-free eating. That is not what I'm doing right now. Poor me, poor me, pour me a big sugary Coke.
*Ugh, flashback to crazy attic apartment where everything stunk of grease when I experimented mightily with homemade onion rings in my electric wok. I feel queasy thinking of it.
Results are in. Both biopsied nodules are benign. Hooray!
I'm surprised by my lack of joy at the news. I'm still angry that the radiologist would only biopsy the two largest. I'm pissed that the endocrinologist's staff told me yesterday at 3 pm that they had the results, but the doctor never called me until 6pm today. His staff told me around ten this morning that it was benign, but I needed to hear it from the doctor himself.
The follow-up plan is to get another ultrasound in six months. I'm still having trouble trusting that one of the tiny nodules isn't a mutated clump of cells that will slowly grow to malignancy.
Thank you to everyone for your positive vibes, prayers and good thoughts. I've had an amazing outpouring of love from friends since all this started. My OA friends have been especially lovely.
I'm struggling to turn this over to HP. I'm powerless, but it pisses me off. I still want to figure out how to fix this. I want absolute proof that there isn't cancer in my body. I don't want to hear the odds unless they are 100%. This is so hard.
Oh, and I've gained 2 pounds this month. My portions have been big. I've been starving. Time to get off my pity-pot, stop being dramatic and live my normal insane life.
I haven't felt like updating my blogs or writing much of anything online. I think my thyroid stuff will mostly get posted on Chicken Butt for now. There is program stuff I think about all the time with it, but I say it at meetings and to my OA buds on the phone and just haven't got anything left to type. I'm scared. I'm worried. There is nothing I can do but take the next step and try to turn it over.
Today I found out it isn't Hashimoto's disease. My endocrinologist thought it was, but the blood test was negative for the antibodies that would be there if it was an auto-immune disease. I'm glad I don't have it, but if I did it would be pretty certain that I don't have thyroid cancer. Now I have more waiting to do. I go for a biopsy on Tuesday. My sister is going with me.
I've been struggling to get to work in the morning and then struggling to work while I'm there. The title of this post is a lyric of a Paul Simon song that makes me smile every time I hear it.
I went to an OA conference this past weekend. It was great on it's own and that it kept me from staying in my flat all weekend in pajamas worrying about my goiter.* I met some great people and heard some serious BB thumping that I needed to hear. I've been writing an evening inventory based on the directions in step 11 since I got home. Stuff that is recurrent or that bothers me is what I need to talk with my sponsor about. It feels great.
Okay, that's all I've got in my tonight. Thanks for all your kind words, thoughts and prayers.
* Yes I did say flat. I'm watching too much BBC, but flat feels right and condo sounds weird.
My name is Dodi and I'm a compulsive overeater.
Oh yes indeed I am. Before I promised not to research thyroid issues anymore I read that there are four types of thyroid cancer and the one of them is really bad with no treatment. My first thought after, "I'm dying" was "If I'm dying can I eat sugar again?" Seriously.
I started trying to figure out if I would need to stay abstinent if there was no hope. I can see that if I have something that must be fought I absolutely have to maintain abstinence. I'm helpless in the food and could never do whatever needed doing. But if there was nothing I could do, could I indulge? I could just give up and slip back into a candy-coated oblivion.
My sponsor pointed out that OA has ruined bingeing for me. She said that I would never get that same relief from food again. I believe her. It had lost much of it's power in the months before I finally got abstinent. So that kind of sucks. I'm in the game now like it or not.
The ultrasound was quick. I almost started crying during the procedure. I'm frightened of the results and desperately wanted the technician to say that everything was fine. Of course she couldn't say a thing, but I tried anyway. I should hear the results sometime this week.
I've tried not to talk about it much. After my first panic and desire to scream it from the rooftops I settled down and have worked to not be a drama queen. Which, if you knew me from before program very different behavior for me. Sure I blogged it, but I'm not calling you to talk endlessly about how sick I could be and how awful it is...blah, blah blah.
Thank you everyone for your support. It means a lot to me.
I am scared. I went for my physical and all was well until she was checking my thyroid. “Hmm,” is not a good sound from a doctor any time they are examining anatomy. She said I could be shaped that way or it could be a nodule. Since she noticed she wants to see what’s there. I want to do more research, but more general info is just going to make the panic worse. I know nothing to differentiate and all the symptoms sound like mine, even though three hours ago I had no symptoms.
I can’t even call the hospital to schedule the test until tomorrow. The paperwork has to be done first.
I’ve talked to a few friends and that helps. Of course I jump to cancer in my mind. When I say it out loud or type it I get scolded for going there. Honestly, where else would I go? I didn’t really go there until I read something about nodules producing excess levels of TSH (or T4 or T3) but that cancer didn’t increase the levels. My levels are all dandy. My shrink checked my levels in February. I brought a copy for my doctor. Wikipedia: blessing or curse?
So, I’m working hard to convince myself that my thyroid is merely lopsided. Otherwise I’ll start thinking about the irony of finally getting my shit together and getting cancer. I’ll start writing the screenplay of a lousy Hallmark movie in my head. Think asymmetrical people.
Note: Posting on CB too. Probably will have a lot of program specific stuff later, but for now I'm all general.
I did two things today that moved me forward within step nine. I made a dentist appointment and an appointment for a physical. Big deal right? No big deal. Except that it took me from September until today to make those calls.
Living amends to myself means taking care of myself. I have not been to the doctor or dentist in three years. I'm not anxious about the physical. I've lost about 90 pounds since my last visit and just had blood work done so I know I'm okay. I need to get references to get the cysts* on my head removed and probably should get my first mamogram and see a dermatologist to check out my moles. I'm a moley girl, always have been. There are some in the center of my back that I can't keep an eye on and have a low level background fear about melanoma.**
I am afraid of the dentist though. If I don't make an appointment for my six month checkup I never go. I get the postcards every six months and then never do anything until I find myself in pain. I'm not in pain, but there is stuff going on in there that I don't want to think about. I always feel shame when I go in. I am not a regular flosser and it is embarrassing and painful when they settle in to chip off the plaque. I know that once I go for my checkup there will be countless followup appointments for crowns, root canals and who knows what else. I think my gums are receding. I'm running out of whole teeth. I don't want to be the old lady with loose dentures. Bionic dentures might be interesting. Hmm.
Anyway, I see my doctor next week and my dentist next month. It feels good to have those things off my list of things to do.
* Had one since collage. My dad had them too. In the last year it got bigger and a second one sprouted. They are front left side of my head. The original one is big enough that my hairdresser noticed. Time to get them removed. Hate the thought of shaved areas and scars on my scalp.
** "I'm Buck Melanoma. Moley Russell's wart. Not her wart. Not her wart! I'm... I'm the wart. She's my tumor. My... my growth. My... uh, my pimple. I'm Uncle Wart. Just old Buck "Wart" Russell. That's what they call me, or Melanoma Head. They'll call me that. "Melanoma Head's coming." I'm s... uncle! Maisy Russell's uncle!"***
*** Yes, this bit really does goes through my head every single time I encounter the word Melanoma. Every. Single. Time.
Things are a bit crazed at work. Well, to be fair, things are crazed in my head at work. My supervisor is out this afternoon and tomorrow because of a death in the family and I'm trying to do both our jobs. So, of course I am frozen with paralysis and am writing a blog entry instead of working on the two dozen tasks I must complete in the next two hours. Oh, and I just finished copying this recipe for homemade laundry detergent (powdered version, although the gel-like substance is tempting) into my organizer. It is that old pal instant gratification that makes me want to run over to Super Target right now and buy the ingredients. The need to get all this stuff and try it out right now had completely erased the stress of what I'm avoiding (for about two minutes).
Big focus on letting go of perfectionism and not being afraid to fuck up today. Willinginess to fail is a major hurdle for me. My pride is in the way. I should not make mistakes. I should be perfect.
Multiple prayers so far today. Many more to come I'm sure. I can feel tension in my shoulders and neck as I sit here. I should probably take ten minutes to go deep breath and stretch my neck. Gaak! I just want to crawl up in a ball under my desk until Wednesday. Instead I will finish this post then I will tackle the next thing on my list. One task at a time, one moment at a time.
I weighed myself today. Twice. The second time I was the same weight as last weigh-in. That is my official number and I'm sticking to it.
The first weigh-in was scary. If you hate reading about bodily functions please stop reading. I'm not going to get gross, just honest about my craziness and it involves poop.
I tried to crap this morning and just wasn't ready. I've been worried that my weight has gone up. It certainly hadn't gone down and my work pants are bordering on flood length. I tend to lose weight first from my bosom and gain it first in my belly. I've already cleaned up my food, but I feared I had done some damage. I wish I could say my monthly weigh-ins are just about knowing which direction I'm going, but honestly I do care about the number. I was freaked that I would go from 102 back into the 90s. According to the scale I had gained four pounds. NOOOOOOO!!!!!! Back to 98. How could I face my OA friends? I've shared about my messiness with food and the struggles, but numbers are facts and quantify my behavior. Fuck. I hate this disease.
So I waited an hour and headed to the bathroom again. If it hadn't been sub-freezing I would have taken a few laps around the building. I'm tempted to get graphic here, but will refrain. Let's just say, I worked a bit harder on that BM than I usually do. Thoughts of developing Diverticulitis lost out to trying to get back into the 100s. Generally I wait for nature to run its course and my body is generally cooperative. This morning I actually had thoughts of digging it out with my finger or a stick or something. Crazy! Wouldn't have gone there, but the thought came to me. All for a bloody number on a scale. No foreign objects were introduced and mission was accomplished. I also peed again and blew my nose (because every little counts). I was however, shocked to see those four pounds gone. It was by no means a four pound poo. I even got off the scale and back on again to see if it was just totally fucked.
So that's my story. I hope someone gets comfort from this little tale. You can say, "God, at least I'm not that crazy!" Good for you. Or, if you feel compelled to share your own scale madness, I'm all ears. I'm so glad I only go through this once a month.
I'm okay. Going to meetings and practicing abstinence, but it is not an automatic thing right now. No pink clouds for this girl right now. I'm spending too much time in my own head. I'm struggling with getting to work on time. Still trying to have my cake and eat it too. Frustrating.
I've got friends in program and out with serious drama in their lives. I'm dealing much better than I did pre-program. I know I cannot fix anything and that it isn't my job, but it has got me a bit down. I was sort of beating myself up for letting it get to me. I feel sad for my friends who are going through crap in their lives. I think that is okay. I'm not obsessed and I don't think I'm using it to avoid my own issues. I guess I'm learning what normal looks like in this area too. What do sympathy and empathy feel like for normal people? Don't know, probably never will. What do they feel like for me when I'm in recovery? Maybe it feels like this.
I just had a minor ah-ha moment. I was mentally writing a blog post. (I’m pretty sure I did this before I had a blog too. I carefully craft the story in the foreground while furiously editing in the background. I’m not sure who my audience was pre-blog, but I don’t think it was me.) I was telling the story of how terrified I am at the thought of dating and how a conversation this weekend had challenged my perspective.* While deciding which blog to post to I questioned whether this was program-crazy or normal-crazy. This is a huge change from my pre-program days. Before OA I assumed that all my craziness was uniquely mine. Now I ask whether it is addict specific or if most people feel this way.
Now I find myself asking other program people of things are normal. I learned while sharing my fifth step that much I knew to be true was not. I don't question every feeling, thought and action like it did in the aftermath, but I don't assume I know what's normal anymore.
I am growing out of my terminal uniqueness and I’m thrilled.
*A poker buddy just ended a long-term relationship and was talking about the dates he has setup through a singles site. I said something about how hard it must be and he said no, he was quite enjoying himself. What? Dating can be fun? Really? I’m so freaked out about how crazy I’m likely to be in any attempted relationship and what an ass I’ve been before in any romantic endeavor that I’ve forgotten that it is supposed to be fun. D'oh!
