Monday, June 9, 2014

Long Time, No See, But...

It's been a while, so let's jump in with something big, shall we?

I have been going to see a nutritionist, Dona, since 2012. I was at my heaviest then, a weight too embarrassing to share publicly. Between January 2012 and May 2012, I lost roughly forty pounds. It wasn't everything I needed to lose, by a long shot, but it was a great start. That May, I got pregnant with M. and trying to lose weight went out the window. I did try to continue to eat well, but pregnancy sure was a good excuse to overindulge (I thought).

After M. was born, I obviously wanted to lose the baby weight and get back on track with healthier eating. Off and on I would go through spurts of really trying to watch what I ate, going to see Dona regularly, and just generally being "good" about what I ate. And then I would go through bouts of total food annihilation. No foods (except for maybe veggies) were safe. I would eat and eat and eat. Maybe there would be a "good" day in between, but generally my eating habits sucked. Finally, enough days would go by where I felt like total crap when I went to bed, stomach too full to get comfortable, and the scale tipping just ways too far in the wrong direction. Then I would feel very guilty - not too guilty, mind you, because I am excellent at rationalizing the things I do to avoid that very feeling - but still, that nasty turn of the stomach feeling would sneak in.

Once that unsettling feeling of guilt finally got to me, I would lay awake at night and promise myself and the ethos that the next day would be better. I would call Dona and make an appointment (because, you see, I had already missed two). I would go for that run that I said I would do for the last two weeks. I would make sure I ate better. I. Would. Be. Good.

And then I would be "good". And then I would be "bad" again. And my weight? Well, luckily for me, it stayed roughly the same, until very recently, where in the last two months I gained about five pounds, then lost it and another ten with it (more on that later).

I ask you to notice two things about what I just wrote. First, note my focus on why I wanted to do better with my eating. Weight-loss. Now, I could write a whole post (and maybe I will) on the media and pop culture and women who are bigger than allowed by their standards, but for now I will say that I am like almost any other warm blooded American women in that I see these "standards" in which I am expected to live up and they scare me into thinking I better start laying off the cupcakes and doing that thirty-day ab challenge a bunch of my Facebook friends are doing. And, that's not to say that eating fewer cupcakes or doing crunches is a bad thing, because it's certainly not, but when it's not coming from an emotionally healthy place the results that come will likely soon be erased.

That brings me to the second thing I want you to see - my cycle. My cycle of "binge, repent, repeat" (Dr. Michelle May) is something I've done for as long as I can remember, though I never realized what a problem it was until I was older, just as I was starting to see Dona. I looked at it very distinctly as being "good" versus being "bad". The quotes around these words, by the way, aren't there for some weird, pretentious reason. They're there to highlight that the terms good and bad are very subjective here. I'm not out to actively harm myself when I eat poorly, though I surely am. And, to be honest, when I eat well, the reasons aren't always good ones (like improved health, better performance when I run, or longevity so I can enjoy my family for as long as possible).

These two things are just parts of the multifaceted puzzle that makes up binge-eating disorder, a disorder with which I've been tentatively identified.

A definition from the Binge Eating Disorder Association:
Binge eating disorder is characterized by recurring episodes of binge eating, feeling out of control while binging, and feeling guilt and shame afterward.

I can imagine some reading this and thinking, "Geez, why can't the fatty just stop eating? It's her own fault." And there isn't a whole lot I can say to counter that, because, on some level, I agree. But, the truth is, I can't "just stop" binging. It's my source of comfort when everything else around me feels out of control or fills me with anxiety. It's my cigarette, my beer, my opiate. Food is my drug*. There are chemical and emotional strings attached to every bite I take, and while I do not withdraw ownership over many of the food choices I make, both good and bad, each choice is tinged with this unhealthy relationship, which I have not chosen to have.

I'll end this by saying I'm not under any allusions that this is the same as a heroin addiction or will devastate my body and family in the same fashion as something like bulimia or anorexia, but it is a battle, my battle, and one that is long overdue.  



*And in fact, one of the risk factors of having binge-eating disorder is previous addictions.