Well, the journey continues. After finishing my weight history, I was supposed to look it over and see if any trends or themes were revealed. I haven’t done that part yet, I haven’t felt able to. I’ve spent the last couple days coping with a fountain of emotions released from all this. It’s one thing to say, “You know, I bet I eat compulsively so I don’t have to cope with feelings, wow, HECKUVA INSIGHT THERE!”, and quite another to, you know, STOP DOING IT.

Tonight I likened it to having a javelin stuck through your side. Why did I liken it to that? I’ve no idea, except I used to throw javelin in high school, and I was always terrified that I’d somehow, at the last minute, get an amazing superhuman burst of either strength…….or utter ineptitude, both scenarios ending with disaster; either the javelin flying ten times farther than it should and landing through a baseball player two fields over, or rotating completely around in space and hitting my coach. ANYWAY (see how rambly I am lately?): if you’ve got a javelin stuck in your side, it’s plugging its own hole. Sure, it sucks, sure it makes it hard to turn around in a hallway, or drive, or go to the bathroom.

But once you pull it out, well, a lot of other stuff is going to come out with it. And it will hurt like a mofo.

That’s what it’s like when you stop compulsive eating after doing it apparently since you were ten years old. You’ve just stopped the one coping mechanism that has carried you through every minute of emotional turmoil for the last couple decades.

I’ve been grouchy, to say the least. “Emotional roller coaster”doesn’t even begin to cover it. Besides, “roller coaster” implies highs, and I’m talking more about a gopher roller coaster: subterranean, digging through the hard rock-infested ground of my psyche, occasionally coming up for air, alwyas leaving an unsightly mess behind.

Case in point:
Sonja went to Seattle this morning. I wanted to go, thinking I could say HI to Llyra and Sean and Critter, and then spend the day bothering Jason (I figured I could at least get him to take me out for some green onion pancakes). The thing was, I couldn’t get a hold of Jason. Text messages, voicemail, email, carrier pigeon sent to peck at his window; nothing worked. Finally, after two hours of attempts, Sonja left without me. I stayed home because her other plans weren’t something I felt able to do (anxiety rearing its ugly head), and I didn’t have a key to Jason’s place, so I couldn’t just hang out there and wait for him to come home (or something more amusing, like dress up his cats in 80′s clothes and put on some A-HA).

It turns out Mr. Jason was sleeping in. He missed all my attempts at reaching him, until he got up and called to see what I wanted, at which point I started BAWLING INTO THE PHONE, vascillating between anger and then guilt at being angry, and then self-loathing at having anxiety problems such that I couldn’t have just gone and had a good time with Sonja’s plans. Jason was sweet and supportive and only had to ask me a few times to repeat things because I was getting so squeaky. He said he could tell I was going through some important stuff, and he was keeping that in mind. <—– This right here is the kind of thing that makes me feel lucky to be so close to such wonderful people.

“I’m just worried,” I sniffed.

“About what?”

“Well what if this is ME underneath all the compulsive eating? Sure, I’m not doing it anymore, but look at me! I’m a mess! What if we just never knew this before? Maybe none of this is worth it!”

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” I sobbed, “If these are my options, I’d rather be fat and likeable and friendly and have friends, then be thin and be all bitchy all the time, snapping at people and leaving a trail of misery wherever I go, like, like…….”

“Ann Coulter?” he offered.

Oh, the many reasons I adore Jason.

Today’s crisis ended well. Jason drove he and his laundry out to visit us. We did two loads of his clothes, he helped me run errands, and then we all had dinner together. I did a lot of talking, a lot of letting all this out, these fears that I can’t cope with whatever the eating compulsively has been stuffing. What if it’s too much for me? What if I pull the javelin out, and there goes everything else I like about myself? Or, and I admit there are moments where this is more terrifying: everything people like about me?

Everyone reassured me that they loved me, and that the likelihood of me ending my co-dependant relationship with Pepperidge Farms will cause me to mutate permanently into a miserable retch of a human being that no one could stand to be around is a RATHER UNLIKELY scenario. Instead, I will likely be miserable and confused for some time, and then clarity will come, and good things along with it. This is where I also want to thank my dear friends Llyra and Jojo, for also submitting that I am a good person even if I’m all messy right now, and loving me lots, and telling me things will be okay.

I continue to not do my “graze binging” on anything. I continue to feel utterly confused about all the emotions this is bringing up. I continue to do my best at being patient with myself, and compassionate toward anything that plops out at unexpected moments. I continue to send out updates to those close to me to let them know I may not be acting totally like myself while this is happening. I continue to learn.

And share.