Be kind to you

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The beauty of blogging is in the freedom to write or not write. I have not been writing lately for no particular reason other than it just has not been the right time and I have not been in the right mindset. That said, my struggle to “be” continues. At times the fight is harder and in rare moments I am able to find some peace. I cherish those moments. Walks by the dunes, staring at the beach, the sky, the stars, drawing, designing, making clothes.

Then, there, I fell free, connected, one body, one soul. My physical appearance no longer matters. My bulging stomach becomes an insignificant worry and the XXL clothes? Well … just another thing of this world.

Since I last wrote, I have moved away from London, traveled to Africa and now back in the Netherlands. It has been a long long journey. I started a new job, a tedious, toxic one, but that was my choice. Now I need to work on getting out of it and finding something better. Living a well deserved life demands effort.

When I am not drained of energy, I motivate myself towards my freedom. Towards being the person that I really want to be. Although that remains undefined, I know aspects of what brings me peace within. Creativity being one of them. Self-expression, whether confronting a small conflict or asserting my ideas is another.

Since I have been denying myself of that right to “be”, it seems easier to give in and settle with the mistaken habits, of being someone else; until I realize, all I am doing is giving my power away to invisible influences. Quickly, I lose myself.

So, the struggle continues. I suspect, there is a high probability that  this will be a lifetime struggle. Though I hope, it will become easier with time.

I used to think that I needed a break from the World because it was so mean to me. Truth is, I was cruel to myself. Then I had another realization. There will always be bitter times, the trick is to live it. Feel it. I do not want to forget or escape anymore. It has not worked. Bingeing, over-exercising, starving, trying to be perfect has not worked. Self-torture has failed. Self-love is surely the answer.

I hope to have a little more of it today, tomorrow and in all the other days I have left on this earth.

This I write to you and myself, so we both remember to “be”.

izaotee

New day ! Wednesday

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I was nervous about fashion class yesterday. It was a field trip. Gaining all this weight back and more reminds me of embarassing moments. Times when I couldn’t walk as fast as the rest of the class. When I would pretend to laugh and complain inside if I couldn’t enjoy hiking with my brother. When I was picked last at team sports. I had urges, thoughts about a cookies and more. I was genuinely hungry. So I had a cereal bar.

At coffee time after our retail research I had a chai tea latte. It was in a food hall at Selfridges. I was surrounded by food while stressed in class. Not the best of all situation. During our discussion I thought about a box of pop tarts. Well because I heard about them in movies and wondered what they would taste like. Buying a whole box would not be wise in this moment of weakness.

When the class ended we all walked out. I was the fattest. Embarrassed to buy that pop tart box. I walked out. In the streets on my way home I felt proud. Once again for not giving in.

One day I hope food will simply be an accessory to my life. Not the whole outfit.

Staying away from temptation

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Today started off weirdly well.

I was woken up by a facebook message from the “artist”. A guy I have been on and off with. I welcomed his virtual hellos without reading too much into it. I thought of food. Then pushed the ideas of indulgent sinful breakfast away. I had soya milk and coffee instead, carelessly. Without planning or obsessing. I then cleaned my appartment. Picking up traces of my last overeating experiences. Honestly I still fit in the muffin, flapjacks and popcorns throughout the day. I have them in the comfort of my bed watching a serie. Why? Out of boredom, to kill time.

Then the guilty feelings settle in. Guilt for not applying to a job, for taking another easy day. Truth is. I feel terrible for being unemployed. I had imagined a completly different life at this age. At least I have been brave enough to pursue another obsession. Arts, fashion. So today instead of eating too much. I worked on some photos for my fashion page. Applied to a work placement with a designer. I doubt I’ll ever be considered but you don’t fail unless you try right?

Then I was debating going out and getting some beauty products. The streets are a little bit of a challenge these days. Although I love the sense of invisibility in London. I hate my appearance. I have not been this big ever. I have not weighed myself but my dress size is off the chart. So going out there feeling like the ugliest ducklin isn’t pleasant. I did anyways and I needed lunch as well. I did not overeat. But I still managed to eat a flapjack. I ate at my dinning table. I worked on some pictures a little longer.

Sobriety was taking a toll on my energy level. I wanted to watch a movie in bed. I realised that I usually do this to distract myself from focusing on the fact that I can’t find a job either in law or arts, that I am still torn between the two and feel as if there has to be an answer somewhere. When I do that I forget to enjoy the experience of figuring it all out. Then my mind drifted to food. How proud I felt for not giving into temptation with the exception of the 350 cal flapjack. Yet there I was, struggling to determine more reasons for needing my drug. Loneliness, boredom, fear of failure.

V one of my friends from university, a close one, as close as my definition of a friendship is, is coming over. I want to plan a shoot in the streets of London. I was nervous about her visit. Her judgments really. She has seen me supposedly obsessed about my body image, loosing the weight and now back in my XL clothes. I was embarrased of what she might think. If a few months ago this would have driven me to planning food. These days, I try to let the fear be, making sure it does not consume me. She came we talked, laughed. My project is a test shoot with a model whom I would style. I have never done this here in London. I am starting to get used to it in Madagascar though. The logistics are much easier there. But I won’t find out unless I try it here.

The evening was obviously terrifying. Night time is when my evils come out and attack me. I had a croissant with ham and cheese and a magnum ice cream. I avoid keeping food in my apartment that I can easily reach for. Again to stay away from temptation. I hope it won’t be like this forever. Right now I am too fragile to do otherwise.

I bought a box of alpen muesli and skimmed milk for breakfast. I ended up mixing the muesli to a batter I prepared for a binge on pancake early in the afternoon. I did not give into that binge. Well I mixed it and fried it. Tasted it and it was disgusting. If this was months ago I would have proceeded to having it anyway. But I couldn’t. I am better than that. So I stopped. I still poured a bowl of muesli and milk and ate it in bed. That in my opinion was comfort eating.

In sum my day was venture to stay away from my fixes. I was trying to figure out the reasons and deal with them. While I was in bed trying to alleviate the pain and distract myself with a tv show. I ended up crying a little. Feeling weak and vulnerable. Saddened that it takes this much effort to stay away from food.

I don’t have much of a conclusion other than that it was a struggle. I made it without waking up the next morning with 1ton of guilt instead of 1000 tons.

Life is a struggle at times and I have to face it.
Fears, feelings, food are part of that battle but I can win it.

It is wednesday and I am trying again
Not to binge, to feel, to fight

Frustration = Progress ?!?

These days I get frustrated at myself for all the self sabotage.

I am in Italy, on a course for specialists in my field. A honor one might say. It boosts my self-confidence a little to know that my potential is recognised for something. It is also an opportunity to make friends, to network. I do not know most of these people. I am trying, trying to make friends. But I seem to expect too much. They have all paired up now. Set new ground, have a buddy and stick to their buddy. They paired me with a room mate. Once again we don’t fit. We do not share the same interests. But it does not stop me from doing what I want what I like.  I am just a little disappointed regardless. I never get the social aspect right.

Eating in Italy is obviously a highlight of this trip. Eating is also my worst fear at the moment. I wish I could enjoy a freaking plate of pasta without fear. Fear of gaining the weight back, of becoming bulimic again if I ever let myself enjoy the taste.

My therapist worked up some courage in me on monday night and I went for dinner. It was a disaster.

My second dinner was around a table with friends I enjoyed talking to. I though I had built a close relation with them, but again I was disappointed when I saw them already paired up. Already set in their new friendships. I wasn’t. What is wrong with me that noone would want to pair up as a friend even for a few days. It saddens me.

I was sat next to an Italian girl, she ordered for me, I had grilled King Prawns, Zucchini and Aubergine. I guess the calories of the grilled prawns, didn’t finish it. But I was proud and happy for having sat through that dinner.

There were lies, many lies actually. I invented that I was allergic to Gluten so I can’t have too much bread or pasta and that I don’t drink. The not drinking is quite true. I gave it up because of my religion, but also because of the calorie content.

At least I had dinner that I did not cook, around a table with people that is a little victory in itself I think.

I walked home in the Siracusa wind, tired but somewhat proud.

This was the last time I had dinner with others during my trip. It became all too much.

This is no punishment

  • Another night without a binge is a little victory in itself.
  • I took my food to bed, as per usual. Danger.
  • I do this because I like it.
  • It gives me something to do. Danger.

As I was preparing my food, my mother stepped into the kitchen. I cooked a delicious healthy carrots, onions and chicken. Asked her if she wanted some. She said she would. I was glad.

Yet, I was anxious when she was around me preparing my food. I am always conflicted. I want her to see I am eating so that she won’t have to worry about anorexia but at the same time I do not want her to see because I worry about her judgment. This makes me anxious. I need to practice telling myself that the judgment of others are harmless to me. They can think all the want in the end it is I who is being me.

On a platter I carried my food to bed. There was around 650 calories. I had not eating much all day and I had just ran on the treadmill. This was my reward.

Watching a movie, I ate and in my head I kept telling myself that this was NOT a binge. I was within my calorie range. I ate what I wanted. I tried to separate my emotions from dinner.

Now I question whether it was a binge. I felt no guilt, just worries about what my mother thinks about me eating in my bed, hiding really. I shouldn’t care.

This morning, I went for a run. I thought about eating an apple before to give me some energy but I couldn’t be bothered. I wanted to save it for breakfast.

I was again worried about what others would think of me waking up at 6 10 am to run. They weren’t even around. How ridiculous !

Once I told myself: who cares. I ran for 40 mins. It felt like heaven to know my body is capable of this now. When I was overweight I couldn’t walk up the stairs without huffing and puffing.

I packed my food, yoga outfit and work bag, showered and left for work.

My dinner was not a binge, my run was not a punishment. I must accept this. Trust myself and know this is the ME now. Seeking to be healthy.