I’ve managed to screw up both tags and categories, which is why you don’t see either on the site right now. I’m going to go through and fix that, but this week is super busy (two friends coming into town, yay!), and it might not get done until the end of next week.
What I’d like is for every single post to fit into a category, yet many of them (like this one) aren’t easily defined into a nice and tidy category. I mean, what would you put this one in? Notices You Need Never See Again? Things Totally Unimportant To Intention Of Blog? Mentions Of Fondue?
Speaking of work on the blog, there are THREE NEW PAGES!
- I wrote down the plan to get in shape and lose weight here.
- I made a page with a table of my progress here.
- I put Ye Olde Hande BMI Charte here, along with my colorful commentary.
All of these pages are accessible from the navigation tabs at the top of the site.
"GET YER FORK AWAY FROM MY STRAWBERRY!" When fondue friends become fondue frenemies.
Oh, and speaking of those two friends – we’re going with one, along with her family, to The Melting Pot tomorrow night. It’s a fondue restaurant, and it’s not just cheese and leisure suits. There’s three courses – cheese of course – but then meats and oil, where you dip meats in batter and dip that into hot oil. The third course is, GET READY FOR IT: chocolate.
Oh sorry, was I saying something? Right.
CHOCOLATE FONDUE.
I’m guessing that three pound weight loss from last week was totally temporary. Ha! Seriously though, I’m doing great with my goals for this week, so I’m not worried, even if I do end up gaining a couple pounds. The Melting Pot isn’t a regular thing, which is good, because if it were, all you guys would hear about were fondue recipes, and I know how much you’d hate that.
, that measures your caloric output, among several other things. I am soooooo tempted to get one, except that I just blew a large cash outlay on 
(an Amazon Kindle), and after seeing how addicted I am to it, Greg wants one too. Still, I think I would love the GoWear gadget and it would likely be fascinating and enlightening to see the data. I want to give myself another couple weeks to settle into my 5 Point Plan, and then I’ll see how I feel about introducing something new.
Who am I if I’m not someone who eats to cope with feelings?
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.