~ Let’s sum up ~

So a couple months ago I decided to lose some weight. First I tried Weight Watchers, and after a month of counting points and spending all my time thinking about food and its penalties, I found myself not only going far above my daily allowed points but having my already-disordered eating begin to worsen.

I realized I was pretty addicted to sugar, and I had a lot of problems feeling compulsive about food. Frightened by this, I decided I had an eating disorder. I decided that Overeaters Anonymous was the best place to work through the issue. I’m pretty sure this is where we left off, right?

~ That brings us to….. ~

Last week was my first week of “abstinence”, which meant that I had a food plan and I tried to stick to it. Mine was mostly avoiding trigger foods, and trying to get used to eating when full. I did great for the first few days, but then I started to waver. I snacked on a few “off limits” foods, in an attempt to see whether they were really that triggering. They almost always were, meaning the minute I was done with one serving I wanted another, and I felt almost painfully compelled to eat more.

Finally on Tuesday afternoon, a few hours before my second OA meeting, I did something I have never, ever, in my entire life, done before. I snuck food. I was upset about something, probably that general feeling of overwhelm that permeates my days, and Greg was working and I just needed something. I wanted sugar, and I made the decision right there I was going to have some. I dove through the cupboards but couldn’t find anything. Then it hit me: TOASTER WAFFLES. Greg always has some of those around. I threw open the freezer; NO WAFFLES. But there it was…….leftover ice cream from my Dad and bonusMom’s visit.

This is what I did:

- I grabbed a bowl.
- I put the ice cream in the bowl (there was maybe a whole cup left).
- I decided this was TOO OBVIOUS, and so I grabbed a box of Rice Krispies sitting on the counter, and I sprinkled that over the top. VOILA! Now it looks like my usual rice milk and cereal! I’m a fracking genius!
- I tried to pretend EVERYTHING WAS NORMAL, and I went and sat down on the couch and began to eat. I knew the dairy would rip out my guts later, but I didn’t care

Suddenly, to my total horror, Sonja appeared, having walked downstairs to let out the dog. I sat there on the couch, FROZEN IN PLACE, as if the ice cream had permeated every last cell. I knew she was going to see what I was eating. It’s a forbidden food! It’s on the Triggering Foods list! It’s creamy goodness is NOT SUPPOSED TO BE IN MY MOUTH.

She opened the back door and then stood there, watching TV with me and waiting for Tito to finish his inquiries. Inside my head is this ridiculous dialogue:

“What if she sees me? Why did she have to come down NOW? How will I explain this?”

“I’ll say it’s just cereal.”

“That’s LYING. I don’t lie. I can’t lie.”

“Well maybe she won’t notice.”

“But what if she does?”

“I’ll say it’s medicinal!”

“Are you HIGH? Medicinal ice cream? FOR THE LACTOSE INTOLERANT?”

“I can’t take this! Scheiße! Just eat it! Just hope she doesn’t notice!”

So I ate it. Did she notice? I don’t know. (Hey Sonja, did you notice?) Eventually she walked away, and I just kept eating. After the bowl was finished, and my blood pressure had finally gone down, I began to comprehend what had just happened. I was completely horrified. I had just done something I’d never done before. I’d hidden food. I was filled with shame and guilt, which I’d never felt in association with food before, at least not like this. I’d felt guilty before, directed toward myself, as I sat in the bathroom for half an hour coping with the meal of cheese pizza I’d just eaten, but never this, this public shame, this humiliation at having eaten the BAD FOOD, the horror that someone might FIND OUT.

So of course I had to go tell someone.

I went upstairs to Greg, and we went into our bedroom and closed the door. I said, “I need to tell you what I just did. I just ate ice cream.” He looked stricken. I couldn’t tell if this was because I’d just poured diesel fuel into the picky, premium unleaded engine that is my digestive system, or whether he was reacting to me going off my “plan”. He says it was the former, but at the time I was assuming the latter.

We talked about how I’d never done it before, and how I didn’t want to feel shame, because I never, ever want to feel shame around food. I certainly never want to feel like I have to hide what I’m eating from anyone, especially my family. I also expressed my fear that being in OA was what triggered this. Maybe I’m not the type of person who should have a food plan. In every case in the past when I had one, I began going nuts with food; that time I tried Eat to Live I ended up stopping because I was starting to see all food as Good or Evil. Weight Watchers was supposed to cure that, yet still I felt compelled to eat as much as I want, like some rebellious teenager. And now OA, with it’s “food plan”, where instead of just seeing Good or Evil now I’m seeing, Will Keep Me Safe, Might Keep Me Safe, Will Send Me Into Horrible Spirals Of Overeating, Will DESTROY MY SANITY (peanut butter bars, why do you ask?), etc. Food is now 20% good, 60% scary, and 20% petrifying.

The more “eating plans” I try, the more disordered an eater I’m becoming.

Let’s note that for later, shall we?

After the Ice Cream Shamester Incident, I went to my OA meeting that night and shared my story. I was supported and cared for, and no one thought it was wrong that I felt like leaving, but in the end I expressed a desire to stay, because where else was I going to go? This had to work. At the end of the meeting I got a sponsor, and I vowed that I’d be gentle with myself and keep trying.

That was Tuesday. In the last few days, I’ve done nothing but think about food. Food I can’t have, food I can have. It’s a hundred times worse, and I am not even remotely kidding, than when I wasn’t on any “eating plan” at all. Finally today I decided I’d had enough, and I made two large waffles and ate them all by myself. I felt guilty, but I also knew that if anyone came into the room and asked me why I was doing it, I’d give them the finger. And that, that awareness, that inner rebel alive and well, felt wonderful. For the first time in weeks I felt authentic, I felt like myself again, and I was unafraid of food. It was wonderful.

Continued in Part 2…….