Whatever it takes

It's about the food until it isn't about the food...

...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.

Benign

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.

You say you're depressed but you're not, you just like to stay in bed

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.

Cover it with choc'late and a miracle or two

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.

Physical

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.

Step nine progress, target me

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.

Ignore the man behind the curtain

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.

Net-zero

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. 

Still here

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.

Not alone anymore

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!

Willing to be willing to be willing, I think, maybe

I keep tripping on the carpet today. This tells me I am not present in my life today. I’m not paying attention. I’m also indulging in a bit of fantasy. It’s fun to craft a future meeting with Doctor #10 (Tennant) where he finds me utterly fascinating and we commence a long distance romance. It is not fun to work on the defect that is currently making my life unmanageable.

My bed binging must stop. I hope that I have finally had enough. Am I sick and tired enough of my behavior that I’m willing to surrender it utterly? I was this morning. I got to work on time at 8:30. Yesterday I was still in bed at 1pm and finally decided to give it up and call it a sick day. I am tired of being unreliable and feeling ashamed at my lack of self-control. It feels just like binging on food: same mental processes, same numbness, and same guilt. I know that surrendering my food to HP and working the steps works. I know it. I’ve lived it.

And that’s one thing that scares me. I know it will work. I’m afraid to let it go. I met with my therapist last night and this is mainly what we talked about. I’m afraid of failure. I’m afraid that I’m not really ready yet and I’ll fall. To which my therapist said, “So?” My sponsor would say the same thing. I’m so afraid of being wrong that I’m willing to stay miserable and not try rather than make mistakes. Crazy.

I’m also afraid that letting go of oversleeping is letting go of my adolescence. As miserable as I get while I hit the snooze alarm for hours, I still enjoy it a bit. Is this rebellion? In a sick way it feels like freedom. It isn’t quite on the level of, “life isn’t worth living without sugar,” but it is close.

I left a message for my sponsor to call me. I told her I was willing to take direction. Okay, I chickened out and said I was willing to be willing to take direction. It’s a start.

But I don't want to

I've been struggling with getting to work at the expected time for years now. I've prayed for the willingness to be willing, I've tried to turn it over to HP. I've had sporadic success. I'm struggling and wailing and moaning. I'm starting to see that I am the same as those who are struggling with their food week after week. I was getting frustrated listening to it. "Stop talking about it and do it," I thought. Stop struggling and just let it go. Hard to see it until it's done. Impossible to describe.

When a friend challenged me to really use all the tools to get to work on time I resisted. In that moment I knew I was not really willing to let that behavior go. I still like enough about it that I am not willing to work to change it. Just like with food, I want to get the benefits of abstinence without changing anything in my life.

I need to take definite actions to change this behavior. I need to use all the tools and work the steps on this. I know that when I do, the changes will happen. I know it. I've seen it. It scares me. As miserable as I am, I can't quite comprehend life without it. Before I stopped eating sweets I thought life without sugar would not be worth living. I knew that was crazy, but it felt true. I did it anyway. I surrendered the sweets. That was over two years ago. I've now lived through three Halloweens without candy; each year better than the last.

HP, please give my the willingness and ability to surrender all my shortcomings which stand between me and grace.

Minus 1 = 102 gone

Lost one pound this month. Honestly, I was worried. I got a bit fast and loose with my portions and late night breakfasts over vacation. If I didn't get out of bed until 2pm I still ate three meals. I also choose to ignore my one salad a day guideline. I also haven't crapped yet today and would like to weigh myself tomorrow again and average the numbers. (Because seriously, when it comes to the scale, don't you think a good crap can take off 10 pounds?) This of course is crazy.

Before I got on the scale I was in bargaining mode. I prayed to stay sane whatever the number was. I told myself I'd be happy if my weight stayed the same. Of course my brain doesn't really work that way. I am a compulsive overeater and irrational about the scale. Good thing I only weigh myself once a month.

Going through the motions

I went to lunch with an OA buddy today. It was fun. It was also good to talk program with a peer. She told me I have a vacation hangover. She is right. I’m so tired and unmotivated. I spent too much time sleeping and watching DVDs last week, now it is all I want to do. It was really hard to get out of bed today. Harder than it was Monday or Tuesday. My supervisor just said the same, so I can’t blame it on my disease. He is having motivation issues today and he’s pretty sane.

Fear has been a recurrent theme in my program this week. I need to take more risks at work. I’m not taking up some responsibilities I ought to for fear of mistakes. I must learn to accept and possibly embrace my own mistakes. As flawed as I know I am, I am unforgiving when I am not perfect. I still think I can do things perfectly. I put off decisions, even tiny ones, because I’m not absolutely sure I’m making the right choice.

Last week I was shopping in Bed, Bath and Beyond and got into a brief conversation about drapes with a guy. He was looking for 96” drape length and the store only had 84”. My next stop was Best Buy and as I was ogling the big screen LCDs I realized that the ogler next to me was the same guy. After I accused him of stalking he said he had no luck with the drapes and did I know some place that he could find them. All I could think of were Pottery Barn ($$$) and JC Pennys. So normal chit-chat with strangers, right? No big deal? Later that I night I remembered that IKEA carries a lot of long drapes. D’oh! I woke up the next morning berating myself for not thinking of it at the time and feeling guilty. This isn’t even a real mistake, just a lapse in memory. Yet I added it to my list of things to feel bad about. I’m still wincing about it a week later and wishing I could let the guy know. He probably found some the next day and has moved on. I am still on my own shit list over it. And I know it. I talked about it twice now. So now I’ve written it.

HP, please let me get over myself and let it go.

Happy New Year!

Technically 2008 doesn't start for 8.5 hours, but happy new year anyway! This was the best Christmas I've had in years. No drama, good gifts, people I enjoy, and Rock Band. OMG! So much fun. I got a 99 on the vocal track once. Seriously fun game. Drumming is a blast, guitar part is just as fun as Guitar Hero and singing is fun if I'm not worried about sounding like an ass. (Besides, no one there can do it better. My oldest nephew sounds like a cat with his tail nailed to the floor.)

Did I mention no drama? Recovery rocks. So nice to surrender all the crap I carry in my head and just take life as it comes. I've felt much more serenity lately. I'm sure not working for 14 days has a lot to do with it, but truly, even hanging out with my dad has been okay. All the drama in my life is self-generated. How I choose to react makes all the difference.

My hope is that 2008 is a year of little drama for all of us.