Before breakfast... very long...

[Guest guest]

Wonder if I should start counting the days that I've been not really doing IE?

And which day would count as #1?

The thing that I liked about dieting (when I could still do it) was counting

being in control of the body and myself even if temporarily. Problem was, that

temporary control kept getting shorter and shorter and shorter and the diet back

lash stronger and stronger...

Yesterday I had a real revelation - that I haven't legalized food at all, I've

only opened the gate temporarily while waiting to slam it shut again and throw

out all the re-criminalized food for the crows to eat.

So, for a long time now I've wondered why I felt like a runaway train when that

urge to have a forbidden food arises. There was no stopping " it " as at those

times I think I could and would go through a wall to have what I want.

Saturday night I suddenly got it while reading these posts. All the analysis

and " processes " I've done for all this time and I didn't realize that I was only

reacting to diet rules and the belief that I couldn't be controlled... yada yada

yada.

Few months back I went to a well-respected hypnotist. I drove 70 miles to see

him and paid him $150 an hour. He was a really good therapist as therapists go

(don't get me started on that one)... But amazingly the work only fed the

rebelliousness and the illusion that there was a magic answer to all of this. A

magic answer outside of myself and one from a man who'd probably never had a

weight or eating problem himself at all. Every so often a bit of arrogance

would sneak through his perfect therapeutic demeanor - like " are you ready to

quit playing games with yourself around food?! " Yes, sir, I sure am sir - it's

all been a game for me. Just a freakin' game.

No wonder my defiance was ran rampant... I didn't call him on his stuff and

instead quit the therapy. Somehow that makes sense now. We aren't meant to live

our lives from the outside in - and we aren't meant to look to others for

something as " simple " as what to eat and when to eat it. I was hoping somebody

else could help me gain control of the subconscious (i.e., me) and make it (me)

fall into line with normalcy.

We live in strange, self-alienated times. I don't know if I can or will

ever be a success at this; but I do know that I don't want to stay on

the diet/non-diet merry-go-round the rest of my life - and I don't

want to live by food rules day in and day out.

Still, I looked at the hunger scale on the site where the free book lives (but I

can't find it) and my heart sort of sunk; it looked so complicated and I'm

typically so unconscious and/or anxious when I'm eating. The thought of

" having " to stop when I'm partially full, or not really full felt like some sort

of doom.

Being full has been pretty much my only source of comfort for a bunch of years

now - and it's blunted all these emotions I haven't wanted to feel. Not that I

never feel them, it seems like I feel them all of the time and I'm tired of

feeling them.

What started my real fall into the fat was when I was driving many miles every

Friday night to visit my sister when she was in the hospital. She had a

glioblastoma multiform. Very deadly. I knew she was dying but her husband

chose not to tell her and I chose to honor that, not really knowing which was

best except not feeling that his choice was a good one. Knowing also that for

many years she'd wanted to leave him, that he'd raped her at one time, but she

was afraid to leave.

I was living with our old, crazy, dysfunctional parents whom " we " opted not to

tell she was dying because... that's the way my family did things and they were

so daft it would have been just another burden for me to comfort them, or

explain to them over and over and over what was going on.

I remember one night after I'd gotten to the hospital I picked up food at a deli

which included a big old cream filled, chocolate dessert of some kind. I was

stuffing it into my face as fast as I could while listening to her talk about

our childhood and how she'd tried so hard to protect me (little sis) from my

parents abuse. She was crying as she talked about our childhood every time I

saw her. And, every visit, I would be shoving food into my face as fast as I

could to stuff the pain of watching her die, knowing she didn't know, and having

to live with parents who'd caused us so much pain and trauma and were now too

old and ignorant to even tell that their daughter was dying - while also feeling

it was all their fault.

Yeah, I guess that's where I went off track with my food and when feeling full

felt better than - just about anything.

Well, I'm debating about sending this because I'm sort of loathe to put stuff

this intense out there, but maybe, maybe it will help somebody somehow.

It sure feels better to have run through this stuff while writing it. I've

thought about the time my sister was dying a lot but never really acknowledged

how painful and difficult it was and how much it lauched me into overeating.

My parents are gone now too - but the aftermath of my sister's death and their

on-going car-crash dysfunction and denial was a real bitch to live through.

It's no wonder I've overeaten; don't know how a normal eater would have gotten

through it, but I never had their tools, apparently.

Thanks, hope this doens't bum a bunch of people out. By the way, I'm now eating

some warmed up spaghetti and tea for b'fast. Tastes and feels good. I'll see

if I'm willing/able to stop at a point before near explosion... LOL