Confused by the title? I know I am. But it's fitting for this post. This post that I do not want to write; do not want to share with the world. But, the crazy inside of me needs to be unleashed somewhere, so let it be here.
I mentioned in my last post that I have an addictive personality. I've been a smoker for ten years and, as much as I'd like to kick the habit, I can't seem to make myself. Although cancer terrifies me to no end my lack of social skills and writing skills without a cigarette between my fingers scares me more. However, I have other personality traits that scare me more.
For one, I am, without a single doubt in my mind, a major pill popping gong show. I'm not sure when it started and I know it has been an on and off ordeal. You would think after seeing my mom struggle with the same problem I wouldn't have ever taken anything harder than an Advil, but alas, I am not so smart. No, I'm not popping Percocets like I once was, but I pop anything with codeine. I found myself, late tonight, wondering if I would be able to run to the pharmacy and back without A finding out. Normally I would just call him and tell him I'm running out to get shampoo, but who NEEDS shampoo at midnight? So, instead I resorted to the next best thing - a fist full of Advil, and cold pills (both night and day because together they make for a really strange sensation). I will run to the pharmacy tomorrow.
Now, beyond that, as I described in my last post food is another horrible addiction for me. I'm dying to lose some weight and finally I let my old habits get the best of me. It scares me that starvation comes so naturally to me and I was able to fall into old habits quicker than I would like to admit. Note to all - most girls who carry a Power Bar in their purse have some kind of eating disorder. Last week I woke up and decided I need to be thin. So, I didn't eat breakfast... or lunch... and when dinner rolled around I ate something small and sensible. Yesterday I was working the late shift so I got home after A had already left for work. I didn't eat a single morsel yesterday and was actually proud of myself at 2pm today when I finally had to sneak off into the mall bathroom to take a nibble of my token Power Bar to avoid being flat out unconcious on my standing coffee date.
I know this is bad for me. Yesterday afternoon I was sitting at my desk at work thinking of all the terrible things I was doing to my body. Human beings eat because we need to. Our body needs the calories to maintain itself. Don't think I don't know that. I was sitting there staring at our telemetry monitors wondering what I was doing to my heart that very minute. Wondering how low my heart rate will drop before this is all over. I know how terrible this is for me. I don't want to do it, but I can't stop. Every time I go to take a bite of food my brain just screams at me to put it down. It tells me I only need to do this for a couple of months so I can lose a few pounds and then I can quit. But I am smart enough to know that isn't how it will work. I will lose a few, and then a few more and I will be pleased as punch. And it will keep going, keep dipping and when my healthy weight goal is in sight, I will keep going. Then I will get to that goal, the exact place I want to be and I will keep going. Hell, I lost almost three pounds in twelve hours. It's motivating, what can I say?
I need to stop this, but it's like an addiction to succeed. I am a failure if I put more in my mouth than I need to stay concious. So, I keep on going...
Sunday, June 6, 2010
Thursday, May 20, 2010
From Fit to Fat - A Story of Addiction
It's no secret that I have an addictive personality. I know that I could very easily become a drug addict or an alcoholic. Food is one thing I've had a life-long struggle with. I love food and I hate food. It brings me some of my greatest joys and greatest sorrows. Unfortunately food isn't something that you can just kick the habit and make sure you aren't around it any more. Food is everywhere. Every single place you go you will see food of some type. Think about it... How many times do you walk down the street and NOT walk by a Starbucks. Even when you go somewhere to enjoy "nature" you run in to busy stores selling ice cream, 1/2 pound hamburgers and greasy fish and chips. You cannot escape food.
I was fat as a little kid. I remember first thinking I was fat when I was about six. I realized then that I didn't fit into my clothes like the other kids did and I couldn't run around with them. That is where the struggle all began. By the time I was nine or ten I was sneaking Seventeen magazine into my room reading the diet and exercise tips, trying to figure out just how to lose the extra chub. The real story began sometime in the seventh grade when I picked up a seemingly harmless article about eating disorders. That article rooted itself into my brain as I thought, "hey, I can do that!" This was at a time when I still blamed my mom for making me fat with her cooking, so I figured, "HEY! If mom's cooking makes me fat then I just won't eat it!" So, I began to plot how I would be able to get away with not eating.
It started with giving away lunches. My mom's delicious chicken sandwiches were always a big hit. Now that I have to pack my own lunch I wish desperately that I had enjoyed more of those sandwiches. Next on my list of things to go was breakfast. I would get up, clatter around the kitchen and then pour myself four Cheerios and some milk. That was breakfast. Then, I started to feed most of my food to the dog, reserving the vegetables for myself. Finally, I became a strict vegetarian.
This "diet" went on and on and on for about four years before it finally ended up with three months of hospitalization. Just prior to going in to the hospital my hair started to fall out in clumps every time I took a shower. I would randomly shake uncontrollably because my blood sugars were so out of whack. I was on the short track to death. At the hospital they would force feed me whole milk flavoured with "purple." I won't go as far as calling it grape, even though I think that's what it was supposed to be. It was miserable and lonely in that place, so miserable and lonely that one night I finally cracked and asked my Dad to bring me a banana split.
Flip addictions.
Yes, it all started out as an addiction to NOT eating. An addiction to being thin. Up until the end it was easy to be a "thin" addict. After the first few weeks of hunger I didn't find it hard to say no to food. I LIKED the hungry feeling I had... it was just a slight reminder that I was making myself more beautiful. But, after that first bite of banana, pineapple and ice cream after literal years of not touching the stuff my body wanted more. A lot more. And it wanted it all now.
So, with that I started to eat whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted. Hell, I had a few pounds to gain back so why NOT have a full fat frappuccino with a fudge brownie on the side? Unfortunately it didn't stop after I gained a few pounds back. They just kept coming. For a brief moment I attempted bulimia. It's not so bad... you get to have your cake and eat it (twice) too right? However, shortly after I started that I realized I am not built to vomit up everything I eat. I hate throwing up too much and I was scared for the life of my teeth, more so than the fit of my 31 jeans. However, I did get the binging portion of bulimia down to a tee. I just didn't happen to rid myself of the calories post-binge. I vividly recall one trip for food in which I managed to consume two cheeseburgers, a Tim Horton's sand which, a KFC wrap some doughnuts and a Blizzard. That is never good for the waist.
Fast forward a few years and I had graduated and was moving out to the big city to chase my dreams and the "love of my life" (who turned out to be a real asshole... but we can talk about that another day). With lack of funding, thanks to the aforementioned boyfriend not having a job and me being employed at McDonalds and going to school full time. We didn't have a car, and most often we didn't have money for the bus either. So, this meant a lot more walking and a lot less eating. I was finally at a healthy weight, although I didn't feel healthy. I think this was mostly in part to the fact that I hadn't eaten a vegetable in months and most of my meals were Chicken McNuggets stolen at work and choked down really quickly in the freezer before anyone noticed. Nothing like two smokers living together on six hundred dollars a month.
I was finally happy with myself. I was a good weight. I was in the best shape of my life. The only downside was that I was hungry. I couldn't ignore the hunger like I did when I was anorexic. The anorexia was amazing motivation to ignore the hunger. When I was hungry due to poorness it was a whole different story. I was fortunate not to lapse back into my anorexic habits, but it made the hunger miserable. I noticed that I was hungry. I WANTED to eat. I just couldn't afford it. Then, I finished college and got a "big girl" job. I was making money. I was eating three meals a day. I was driving. I was sitting on my ass ten hours a day.
That brings us today. I am sitting here (big surprise, sitting) at least seventy pounds heavier than I would like to be. And seventy pounds still keeps me at "overweight." I desperately need to lose this. I need to eat healthier and exercise more, but I have gotten so used to gorging myself and sitting on my ass I don't have the energy to do anything. What happened to the girl who loved yoga? I attempt it, but somehow after a day of being good, eating a lot of fruits and vegetables and drinking lots of water I come home and eat a bag of chocolate chips on top of a pint of ice cream (yes, that seriously was dinner tonight). I need to get off my ass and do something. I need to find my will power. What scares me about that though is once I start doing those things I find myself slipping in to old habits... such as "Why eat an apple when I can eat nothing at all?" or "Why only be on the treadmill for thirty minutes when I can do it for two hours?" Yes, I've found myself at the gym two and a half hours after I got there, and that terrifies me. I can't lapse back into that... but it seems so easy. So easy to make that happen again. I keep trying to convince myself that four or five months of minimal caloric intake won't hurt me, but I know it will.
So, with that, I still haven't worked anything out in my head that I haven't already figured. Exercise in moderation is good. Food in moderation is good. Starving is not. So what do I do? Do I make the right choice and do this the hard way? Or do I take the quick and easy route and just git 'er done?
I was fat as a little kid. I remember first thinking I was fat when I was about six. I realized then that I didn't fit into my clothes like the other kids did and I couldn't run around with them. That is where the struggle all began. By the time I was nine or ten I was sneaking Seventeen magazine into my room reading the diet and exercise tips, trying to figure out just how to lose the extra chub. The real story began sometime in the seventh grade when I picked up a seemingly harmless article about eating disorders. That article rooted itself into my brain as I thought, "hey, I can do that!" This was at a time when I still blamed my mom for making me fat with her cooking, so I figured, "HEY! If mom's cooking makes me fat then I just won't eat it!" So, I began to plot how I would be able to get away with not eating.
It started with giving away lunches. My mom's delicious chicken sandwiches were always a big hit. Now that I have to pack my own lunch I wish desperately that I had enjoyed more of those sandwiches. Next on my list of things to go was breakfast. I would get up, clatter around the kitchen and then pour myself four Cheerios and some milk. That was breakfast. Then, I started to feed most of my food to the dog, reserving the vegetables for myself. Finally, I became a strict vegetarian.
This "diet" went on and on and on for about four years before it finally ended up with three months of hospitalization. Just prior to going in to the hospital my hair started to fall out in clumps every time I took a shower. I would randomly shake uncontrollably because my blood sugars were so out of whack. I was on the short track to death. At the hospital they would force feed me whole milk flavoured with "purple." I won't go as far as calling it grape, even though I think that's what it was supposed to be. It was miserable and lonely in that place, so miserable and lonely that one night I finally cracked and asked my Dad to bring me a banana split.
Flip addictions.
Yes, it all started out as an addiction to NOT eating. An addiction to being thin. Up until the end it was easy to be a "thin" addict. After the first few weeks of hunger I didn't find it hard to say no to food. I LIKED the hungry feeling I had... it was just a slight reminder that I was making myself more beautiful. But, after that first bite of banana, pineapple and ice cream after literal years of not touching the stuff my body wanted more. A lot more. And it wanted it all now.
So, with that I started to eat whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted. Hell, I had a few pounds to gain back so why NOT have a full fat frappuccino with a fudge brownie on the side? Unfortunately it didn't stop after I gained a few pounds back. They just kept coming. For a brief moment I attempted bulimia. It's not so bad... you get to have your cake and eat it (twice) too right? However, shortly after I started that I realized I am not built to vomit up everything I eat. I hate throwing up too much and I was scared for the life of my teeth, more so than the fit of my 31 jeans. However, I did get the binging portion of bulimia down to a tee. I just didn't happen to rid myself of the calories post-binge. I vividly recall one trip for food in which I managed to consume two cheeseburgers, a Tim Horton's sand which, a KFC wrap some doughnuts and a Blizzard. That is never good for the waist.
Fast forward a few years and I had graduated and was moving out to the big city to chase my dreams and the "love of my life" (who turned out to be a real asshole... but we can talk about that another day). With lack of funding, thanks to the aforementioned boyfriend not having a job and me being employed at McDonalds and going to school full time. We didn't have a car, and most often we didn't have money for the bus either. So, this meant a lot more walking and a lot less eating. I was finally at a healthy weight, although I didn't feel healthy. I think this was mostly in part to the fact that I hadn't eaten a vegetable in months and most of my meals were Chicken McNuggets stolen at work and choked down really quickly in the freezer before anyone noticed. Nothing like two smokers living together on six hundred dollars a month.
I was finally happy with myself. I was a good weight. I was in the best shape of my life. The only downside was that I was hungry. I couldn't ignore the hunger like I did when I was anorexic. The anorexia was amazing motivation to ignore the hunger. When I was hungry due to poorness it was a whole different story. I was fortunate not to lapse back into my anorexic habits, but it made the hunger miserable. I noticed that I was hungry. I WANTED to eat. I just couldn't afford it. Then, I finished college and got a "big girl" job. I was making money. I was eating three meals a day. I was driving. I was sitting on my ass ten hours a day.
That brings us today. I am sitting here (big surprise, sitting) at least seventy pounds heavier than I would like to be. And seventy pounds still keeps me at "overweight." I desperately need to lose this. I need to eat healthier and exercise more, but I have gotten so used to gorging myself and sitting on my ass I don't have the energy to do anything. What happened to the girl who loved yoga? I attempt it, but somehow after a day of being good, eating a lot of fruits and vegetables and drinking lots of water I come home and eat a bag of chocolate chips on top of a pint of ice cream (yes, that seriously was dinner tonight). I need to get off my ass and do something. I need to find my will power. What scares me about that though is once I start doing those things I find myself slipping in to old habits... such as "Why eat an apple when I can eat nothing at all?" or "Why only be on the treadmill for thirty minutes when I can do it for two hours?" Yes, I've found myself at the gym two and a half hours after I got there, and that terrifies me. I can't lapse back into that... but it seems so easy. So easy to make that happen again. I keep trying to convince myself that four or five months of minimal caloric intake won't hurt me, but I know it will.
So, with that, I still haven't worked anything out in my head that I haven't already figured. Exercise in moderation is good. Food in moderation is good. Starving is not. So what do I do? Do I make the right choice and do this the hard way? Or do I take the quick and easy route and just git 'er done?
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
< 3
Just a really quick post today. Today is my FOUR YEAR anniversary with A!!! Insanity. But I'm soooooo happy :) < 3
Monday, May 17, 2010
Like Sands Through the Hourglass, So are the Days of Our Lives
As twenty-five approaches me far more rapidly than I would like it to I can't help but reflect on the person I have become and the person that I used to be. I don't even recognize myself anymore. I was a terrible, selfish person at twenty, But I had everything I could have wanted. Maybe there is something to the whole selfish thing.
I can't believe how I used to treat people though. Family, friends, strangers trying to give me their heart... I had none of it. I didn't care who you were or how you felt about me I was going to get what I wanted from you and then stab you in the back when I was finished. I think the only person in that entire chunk of time that I didn't do that to was J. I burned a lot of bridges that year and although I have some of those people in my life still today, it really never is quite the same.
I was so irresponsible. I spent all of my money on beer and cigarettes, no wonder I was so skinny. But that being said, I think I've managed to do a complete 360 and now I am TOO responsible and TOO nice for my own good. People walk on me now. Yes, I had many bad qualities, but I stood up for myself. I didn't take shit from anyone. I was a strong, single woman. That was empowering.
I need to find a happy medium between 2006 S. and 2010 S. I need to find the strength, independance and happiness from days passed, but I need to hold on to the responsibility, loyalty and caring from today. I cannot go back to living my life like a bulldozer, just running people out of the way when they don't fit into the picture of my life. But, I can't just let whomever wants to walk all over me anymore.
I am content right now. I love A. and I love being with him. I have a few really great, close friends. I love them. I think, after writing all of this, I've realized it's the strength I miss. The power to control my own destiny and make it go wherever I would like it to. There's something to be said about empowerment. It gives you a great sense of calm to be able to say, "This is MY life and I will do with it what I want!"
So, with that, how do I get that strength back without becoming a man-eating bitch again?
I can't believe how I used to treat people though. Family, friends, strangers trying to give me their heart... I had none of it. I didn't care who you were or how you felt about me I was going to get what I wanted from you and then stab you in the back when I was finished. I think the only person in that entire chunk of time that I didn't do that to was J. I burned a lot of bridges that year and although I have some of those people in my life still today, it really never is quite the same.
I was so irresponsible. I spent all of my money on beer and cigarettes, no wonder I was so skinny. But that being said, I think I've managed to do a complete 360 and now I am TOO responsible and TOO nice for my own good. People walk on me now. Yes, I had many bad qualities, but I stood up for myself. I didn't take shit from anyone. I was a strong, single woman. That was empowering.
I need to find a happy medium between 2006 S. and 2010 S. I need to find the strength, independance and happiness from days passed, but I need to hold on to the responsibility, loyalty and caring from today. I cannot go back to living my life like a bulldozer, just running people out of the way when they don't fit into the picture of my life. But, I can't just let whomever wants to walk all over me anymore.
I am content right now. I love A. and I love being with him. I have a few really great, close friends. I love them. I think, after writing all of this, I've realized it's the strength I miss. The power to control my own destiny and make it go wherever I would like it to. There's something to be said about empowerment. It gives you a great sense of calm to be able to say, "This is MY life and I will do with it what I want!"
So, with that, how do I get that strength back without becoming a man-eating bitch again?
Sunday, May 16, 2010
Today is Another Day
Another blog?! Two in one day?! I need a creative outlet far greater than my pen can provide me. Let's face it - it's tacky to whip out your journal while working. This is a far more portable way for me to put my life out there in words.
Life is good. What can I say? But I need somewhere to explain my ups and my downs. I need a place to put my struggles into words, as it makes it so much more clear to me. My job, when I'm in PACU is amazing. I work with amazing people there, and I seriously consider them a big part of my support system. However, I don't find that job very fulfilling. I feel like it does not use my skills. Like everything I've worked so hard for is wasted. I think that's how it is with unit clerking. I am better than what I do. Not saying anything bad to unit clerks, we get enough of that as it is. But, I have skills that far exceed those needed to answer phones. I wish I could have a do-over of my life. It's become too late for me to go out and find work that will make me feel complete. I wish I would have gone and done something creative like interior decorating or journalism. Not broadcast journalism. I don't want to make my living talking, but I could certainly make my living sitting out in the sunshine with a coffee and my laptop pouring my heart into words. I didn't think I was a creative person until I got a job that was not creative at all. It's like I have something inside my that is begging to get out. A love for expression. Sometimes I wonder if it might be worth my time to take a step back and figure out what I LOVE and go for it. I wonder if I wouldn't be happier working in a job that felt like I was getting something out of it too.
Some mornings when I wake up to go to work I feel as though I will just deflate if I have to spend yet another day doing something I don't love. I can't picture myself working for the next forty or fifty years doing something that gives me no enjoyment; that makes me feel as though I am wasting my time being there. I seriously feel like I will go absolutely insane waking up every morning to do what I do. I feel that way about a lot of jobs too. I can't imagine waking up as a nurse, an administrator, an accountant and feeling the love I would feel if I was creating. If I was making something beautiful out of nothing. I believe that words can be beautiful. I see writing as art. You need to capture your reader and make them feel. You HAVE to make them feel. Even if they cannot identify with what you are telling them, you need to make them believe that it's them you are talking about. You need to fill them with joy and happiness or you need to penetrate their heart and tear it out, just like you feel. You need to use the right words too. It's important to use some big words to show you're reader that you mean business, but you have to be friendly enough to make your reader feel like they are having a conversation with you over coffee. And most importantly, you have to pour your heart and soul into it. The happiness and the pain are what make people identify with you.
How amazing would it be to be a coulumnist in a women's magazine? To show them that you are just like them. That they can find their love and go for it? I feel like with all the pressure to be thin and beautiful women need a reminder that their dreams are bigger than that too. I'm not saying I don't stress about my weight. That I don't want my hair shinier or to be blonde instead of brunette. I'm not saying I don't obsess about fashion and make up. But there is more inside of me than that. I am not just obsessed with being beautiful. I am obsessed with it. I will admit that. I am always striving to lose weight or to have more radiant skin. However, I think even if I achieved external perfection I would not fill the void in my soul. I think it would fill that empty space only partially. Don't think I am saying being thin and beautiful would do nothing for me. It would. However, if I achieved my definition of beauty perfection and was still a unit clerk I would still have a void.
So much time is spent at work I think you need to do what is perfect for you. What is perfect for me? When should I give up the dream? Or are you never too old to go and find what you love doing? Who knows. I don't think you are ever too old to go to school and go for your dream. But financially? I think I am too old. Who knows though. I will think about it some more and try to figure out what creative outlet will make me happy and successful. I think success is based largely on your enjoyment. I think you're a lot more likely to work hard, long hours, whatever it takes if you live and breathe what you do. Granted, there are more important things in the world than work. Family. Friends. But, you spend more time at work than with anyone else and, quite frankly, if you need to put all of your energy into that for a few years, the pay off is worth it. If you are going to do something for the better part of your life you may as well think it's amazing. You may as well feel like you couldn't live without it, and right now, I can live without my job. Easily. If I won a million dollars I would quit in a second...
With that, it's time to go and get ready for another week of empty working.
Life is good. What can I say? But I need somewhere to explain my ups and my downs. I need a place to put my struggles into words, as it makes it so much more clear to me. My job, when I'm in PACU is amazing. I work with amazing people there, and I seriously consider them a big part of my support system. However, I don't find that job very fulfilling. I feel like it does not use my skills. Like everything I've worked so hard for is wasted. I think that's how it is with unit clerking. I am better than what I do. Not saying anything bad to unit clerks, we get enough of that as it is. But, I have skills that far exceed those needed to answer phones. I wish I could have a do-over of my life. It's become too late for me to go out and find work that will make me feel complete. I wish I would have gone and done something creative like interior decorating or journalism. Not broadcast journalism. I don't want to make my living talking, but I could certainly make my living sitting out in the sunshine with a coffee and my laptop pouring my heart into words. I didn't think I was a creative person until I got a job that was not creative at all. It's like I have something inside my that is begging to get out. A love for expression. Sometimes I wonder if it might be worth my time to take a step back and figure out what I LOVE and go for it. I wonder if I wouldn't be happier working in a job that felt like I was getting something out of it too.
Some mornings when I wake up to go to work I feel as though I will just deflate if I have to spend yet another day doing something I don't love. I can't picture myself working for the next forty or fifty years doing something that gives me no enjoyment; that makes me feel as though I am wasting my time being there. I seriously feel like I will go absolutely insane waking up every morning to do what I do. I feel that way about a lot of jobs too. I can't imagine waking up as a nurse, an administrator, an accountant and feeling the love I would feel if I was creating. If I was making something beautiful out of nothing. I believe that words can be beautiful. I see writing as art. You need to capture your reader and make them feel. You HAVE to make them feel. Even if they cannot identify with what you are telling them, you need to make them believe that it's them you are talking about. You need to fill them with joy and happiness or you need to penetrate their heart and tear it out, just like you feel. You need to use the right words too. It's important to use some big words to show you're reader that you mean business, but you have to be friendly enough to make your reader feel like they are having a conversation with you over coffee. And most importantly, you have to pour your heart and soul into it. The happiness and the pain are what make people identify with you.
How amazing would it be to be a coulumnist in a women's magazine? To show them that you are just like them. That they can find their love and go for it? I feel like with all the pressure to be thin and beautiful women need a reminder that their dreams are bigger than that too. I'm not saying I don't stress about my weight. That I don't want my hair shinier or to be blonde instead of brunette. I'm not saying I don't obsess about fashion and make up. But there is more inside of me than that. I am not just obsessed with being beautiful. I am obsessed with it. I will admit that. I am always striving to lose weight or to have more radiant skin. However, I think even if I achieved external perfection I would not fill the void in my soul. I think it would fill that empty space only partially. Don't think I am saying being thin and beautiful would do nothing for me. It would. However, if I achieved my definition of beauty perfection and was still a unit clerk I would still have a void.
So much time is spent at work I think you need to do what is perfect for you. What is perfect for me? When should I give up the dream? Or are you never too old to go and find what you love doing? Who knows. I don't think you are ever too old to go to school and go for your dream. But financially? I think I am too old. Who knows though. I will think about it some more and try to figure out what creative outlet will make me happy and successful. I think success is based largely on your enjoyment. I think you're a lot more likely to work hard, long hours, whatever it takes if you live and breathe what you do. Granted, there are more important things in the world than work. Family. Friends. But, you spend more time at work than with anyone else and, quite frankly, if you need to put all of your energy into that for a few years, the pay off is worth it. If you are going to do something for the better part of your life you may as well think it's amazing. You may as well feel like you couldn't live without it, and right now, I can live without my job. Easily. If I won a million dollars I would quit in a second...
With that, it's time to go and get ready for another week of empty working.
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