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

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I pray today will be different

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Those were trigger muffins i used to make 😦

Yesterday was not too bad. I did not punish myself with food but i did eat too much and not sensibly. 65kg and just 4 weeks ago i was 48 kg. Self destruction! Hitting the best of me. Attacking one of the things I cherish most: my body and my mind. So today? I pray to hang on. To get in touch and be aware of those feelings. I do not want to ignore my wound and numb it with my drug. I also know this is one aspect of my life but not all. I am not just about bingeing and restricting. I am so much more.

Good morning to good day I hope
It starts with hope right?

To diet or not to diet in the midst of a binge episode?

Monday 4 november

Diet dilemna

 

I don’t want to diet even though I dislike my reflection in the mirror. I ordered xenical again and my mother is encouraging me to lose some the weight I gained since my binge frenzy started. I do want to feel good, to look at myself and accept the way I am. The extra pound is not helping. It never did. At the same time. I do not want to diet. Not yet at least. I have this distorded understanding of what healthy is. It involves: controlling, weighing food, over exercising, cutting myself out from the world when I want to socialise because there will be food involved. I realise my definition of healthy rhymes with pain and self-destruction at the other end of the spectrum. That is my diet. I don’t want that. Not now not ever again. But I do want to lose some weight. I just feel that right now I am not strong enough too. I have the courage to face my struggle every day. When I don’t I tell myself it is worth it. There will be light at the end of the tunnel. This is a crucial time to discover myself inside and out. So reverting to dieting as a solution for my body image discomfort, I believe, at this very moment that it is not a solution.

In my fragility I am determined to eat without restriction. Two days ago I had a diet shake at lunch. It did no good to my brain or my body. The evening was a binge. See there. That is the repercusion of an attempt to diet. So instead. I won’t. I will focus on exercising regularly and eating healthy in moments of clarity. During times when I am.

 

This morning was the usual monday therapy. Preparing myself for mother and brother’s visit at the end of this week. I am nervous, anxious, worried. I feel I have failed them by gaining all the weight. Yet, it was out of my control. When I binge I am disconnected with what my body tells me to do. My brain orders me to buy and stock and eat while my body is in pain. My heart heavy and calls out to be listened to and my stomach just cries out for me to stop. I am not myself. No one should be just a limb or just a brain. So I try to tell myself that before I run to my fix. When I check in with my brain and tell myself that chocolate bar is not necessary. I am fighting sometimes I win and sometimes I lose. But I am fighting. So is it really my fault? In that first scenario it is difficult for me to say it is. It would also be unfair to myself.

 

The second scenario involves a speck of conscious irresponsibility. It is when I run to food for a hug, an embrace, comfort. There I am partly to blame. Partly because I have this ingrained inability to deal with my emotions and to plaster my wound with food. The thought lands in my head and I let it settle there while my body tells me I am feeling something. Sometimes I know the reason. Anxious about finishing a report, waiting for an e-mail about the brand. The stress gets me agitate and preoccupied with food food food. Before the thought is printed on my brain and I have no escape but to give in. I have the choice to let it overcome me or not. These windows of opportunity are rare but they are there. The past two weeks at least they have been there. The binges are spaced out , the overeating too. My life then does note become all about food. It is just an accessory, one I cannot live without but one that does not harm me. I want more days like that. Days when I struggle but I somehow come through. Little victories at a time.

 

Last night and this morning was the first time in week that I was able to keep food without eating it all. I took the risk last night, feeling some courage. I tested myself. A loaf of bread and a jar of peanut butter. Both triggers. Both drugs. Both harmful to my mind and body. At least for now. I managed not to eat it all in one go. To have some at night and some in the morning. If I was to talk about this to my so-called friends. I wonder what they would say or think. My gosh, she finds it challenging to keep an un-eaten loaf of bread in her apartment? Well yes that is it for now.

 

Back to the bread challenge. Instead I lived in my flat. Watching series, going to bed at a sensible time, working on my designs and looking for jobs. There was no obsession over the damn bread and peanut butter.

 

This morning after therapy, I felt uplifted. But only for a moment until, I had an urge to run downstairs to the shops and get a fix. What did I do? Jumped in my bed to get in touch with myself and determine what triggered the void. It was simple. I just wanted to sleep in because I had not slept all night instead when I got up I started designing. Something I did not want to do at that very moment. Funny how little even little decisions pulls me to food. I never knew that I had that habit. My judgments had been clouded by doing things to please others or to be accepted. So instead I sneaked back into bed and slept a little longer.

 

Now I am back from shopping for the brand and going to the gym. My trainer weighed me today. To his surprise the weight went up again. I did not expect it to go up that much. Now I am worried. But I knew why it did. I sometimes wish I could tell him. Hey by the way I binge but just because I do I do not want to give up training. I know exercising is good for me that is why I keep going. I want to change my goal though. No weight loss just keeping fit. Why no weight loss? I am not giving up on myself I just don’t think it is the right time. It would may be even work to my detriment because the cycle goes: restriction = could potentially trigger a binge later.

Tough reality. One day at a time.

 

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.

First Overeaters Anonymous Meeting

Yesterday I went to my first ever OA meeting. I was a complete mess.

It was a rainy day, after strength training at the gym I had planned to attend an OA meeting I found online. Bus 24 which would take me there did not show up. But since getting to this meeting made me sacrifice running on the treadmill. My saturday had to be worthwhile. In the rain at 10 45 a.m I knocked on a black taxi’s window. I stepped in, stressed, irritated, pointed to the address and coldly asked the driver to take me there.

He said he knew the way, but in my stressed state, I was rude to him. I kept asking are you sure you know the way. The meeting was to start at 11 00 a m.

I called earlier and was told to come a few minutes before for some explanation. When I stepped in, two ladies was standing at the door. One with a cigarette in her hands. I cannot stand smokers anymore. My ex-boyfriend smoked and my Dad was a chain smoker. It killed him. Clearly annoyed at her smoke, I unconsciously waved my hands around to get the smoke out of my face. It was a rude gesture, but I was stressed. In hindsight, worried, scared about this meeting.

A tall Dutch woman, friendly and direct asked me about my past. I was a little shocked at how direct she was. But I guess, she is entitled to because you have to actually have a problem with food to be there. I started talking about my anorexia, the sentence was not even finished when I burst into tears. An abundance of emotions surface. I could not believe I was there. I felt pain, shame, fear but also pride and relief.

The woman reassured me that I was not alone in this anymore. As I peeked at the people in the room, I realised how even the most ordinary looking person was there too. Compulsive eating does not choose its prey. Young, not so young, women, men, tall, short, slim, not so slim. Food was our love and our enemy.

I cried all through the meeting. I am not giving up. I will step in there again next week. This time I’ll bring tissues.

I am not alone in this anymore. There are others out there. Together we are determined to recover, even if not completely at least to manage a little.