Purge my soul.

I don’t want to have a dead grandmother, you are not only the best grandma I had but also the last grandparent. I don’t want to tell my tiny heart that you died. I don’t want her to hurt, I don’t want to hurt. I don’t want to feel scared and I don’t want to be lost. I don’t want my mother or her sisters or brother to hurt.
I do want you to die. I’m sorry.
I want you to drop dead from some crazy heart attack, when no one is looking. I want you to get hit by a car when we are all tucked in. I don’t want you to die slow, slow, slow, s l o w . While we all stand around unable to help. I don’t want things to hurt worse everyday. I don’t want it to take so long that you lose who you are even more than you have. I don’t want to dread phone calls and then feel numb because it’s never the end, it’s always just the beginning of the end.
I love you, and I want you to die. What kind of a person am I?

Just tumbling along, letting the world beat me up. I was having a great weekend, and then my love fried a turkey. For real.
I gave her a oil free turkey fryer and she used it this weekend. The turkey was so good, and I pointed it. The downfall for me – gravy. I told her not to make it, she thought I was joshing. I wasn’t. I went a little crazy lady and dipped a bit here and there. I am overestimating it at 1/4 cup (NO WAY that is right, but punishment is needed) and pointed it at 12 points. There you have it – I was so angry at myself afterwards that I wanted to hurt myself. I didn’t, not physically. Instead I picked a fight with A and then cried a lot. We hugged it out, all is better and I have a clearer head. My plan of action is to take the 12 from my weekly 35 and to also work out at least 12 activity points worth (and then not use those points.) We will see. With prayer and will this can still be an amazing week.

For a moment losing weight seemed almost like a bad thing. I am the fat girl. I am the food addict. It’s who I am and I do it well. I have made it funny and I am cool and I carry it well. Then I realized that I could do this, make this change. I could find new jokes and new humor and be me, but with different defining characteristics. Yeah, I think I am going to wind up being LittleSLUTMe – ‘cause I swear there is a major trash ball just waiting to rock a small size in here!

The smaller I get the more I think that my morals had more to do with my size than my good judgment.

It’s funny when you realize you have a glitch and you have no idea where it came from or when it developed. You just know that it runs deep and strong. One day a compulsion is there making you act or do.
Out to dinner the other day I asked my girl friend to ask what was in something. After hearing I changed my order. She was like, “Just ask them to leave the butter out.” I couldn’t, I just went with another dish. I felt – strange. Lately, because of this journey, I pay more attention to those feelings. I think them out later. Turn them over again and again when I have the time.
Upon turning this one over a hundred times I realized that it’s because I have a deep embarrassment when it comes to food. Like if I ask if something is healthy the person I ask will think, “As if you care, fatty.” Or if I order something like a salad I will get a look that says, “You are not fooling anyone.”
It’s another thing that doesn’t make sense. I know know when I got that way. What I do know is that I have found the glitch, so mow I can fix it. Slowly I will be whole and feel good without thinking about it CONSTANTLY!

I fell off the wagon. The people who love me want to say, “Oh, you are allowed a slip.” or, “One day wont hurt.” or, “But, you did it in a healthy way!” True, true and true. Only not.
I have a food addiction. I am addicted to food.
I am allowed a slip up on my new food plan (I don’t like the word diet because that really is not what it is – more on that later.) I am not allowed a slip up on my recovery. Here, in my mind, is the difference: a slip up on my food plan would be me saying to myself that I really wanted chocolate cake, then finding a way to either reward good behavior with that cake or work it into my daily points. A slip up in recovery is when I am emotionally reaching for any food (cake in this example) and eating way too much of it, without feeling satisfied by the food, but instead finding momentary satisfaction in the act of the binge. The repeating the behavior again and again in one sitting, or several sittings.
One day can and WILL hurt me, if I let it. One day is like a alcoholic going to the bar just for one evening. It might not be the undoing that time, but it leads to false security. One day turns into two or three and that is dangerous.
There is no healthy way to indulge an addiction. The addiction itself is unhealthy! Sure I ate pretzels and Olean chips and other low point foods, in fact when speaking in point terms I didn’t go overboard. I used my daily points and ten of my reserve points. That isn’t what defines yesterday as a problem, it’s how I reached those points. Swallowing was the high, stuffing myself to the point of self-hatred and shame. Binge eating to the point that I came home and lied on the couch listing the reasons I suck in my mind. Beating myself for being fat and lazy and ugly and stupid. I am not ugly. I am NOT stupid. I can be lazy, but I can also work very hard. I am fat, I am also changing that.
Yesterday I pressed reset on my recovery. Thank God I am not letting myself do the full slide. Today I start over. I am renewed and ready. Today I am breathing and taking it for what it was.

I dated a girl who I was just enamored with. We were best friends. We did everything together. To me, she was beautiful. To her, I realize now, I was convenient. It’s not to say she didn’t care for me, I am sure she did in her own way. She didn’t see me, she didn’t know me. That didn’t matter to me, at the time.
From time to time we would take a break from the solitary confinement of the bed or our card games and we would go out to eat. Chinese, mostly. She always liked to eat Chinese food. If I picked, and I rarely did, we would hit a local diner. I love breakfast food at any time in the day! It didn’t matter where we went the meal would go the same way. I would be thrilled to go anywhere and she would drive, we would arrive and take our seats. Waitress comes; her – beer, me – water. Drinks arrive and orders are placed. Then while we wait the conversation rolls from later that night, the next night’s plans, the show we watched, the movies we wanted to see… Suddenly, she gasps! Always, inevitably the gasp. “Oh, my God!”
“What?” I fain confusion, knowing what is coming.
“There is a woman behind you eating and she shouldn’t be!” She would start. “Oh, she can’t be hungry look at her. Disgusting. Pigs should not eat in public; she should not eat in public.”
So many times those women or girls were either my size or smaller than me by five to ten pounds. Sometimes they were larger, not by much. When my food came I would push it around my plate, pick at the bits and then wistfully push away my barely touch meal. “I’m so full.” I would smile, unsure if she meant to discourage me from eating or if she really didn’t see the connection.
Years later, on a lovely date with my partner, I came down to tears over eating in public. I couldn’t be comfortable. No matter what she said in my head there were people there pointing me out to their dates. People swearing that my eating food in front of them was ruining their dinner. I tell myself when I am thinner I will enjoy eating out, I actually feel I have gotten better. Next time we go to sushi I want to sit at the bar and be okay, I want to order everything I want and not care. I know it will probably take a while and I doubt that just losing weight will make that voice go away.
I am working on it.

It’s in my nature. I hold on to lost people, I hold on to emotion. I let things hurt me repeatedly. I hurt myself with regret and guilt. Play and replay, wish and pray. Moving forward is not my specialty. I hold on, stay put.
I have felt like there are people in the world meant to serve as witness, keep the histories, know the roots. Over time I began to feel like I am one. How could I possibly bare witness accurately if I let things go? Forget how things felt?
Maybe over the grand scheme this is okay, but on a personal level – it is damaging. I have realized that I have hang ups and personal issues based in obscure moments that I let fester into a problem. My eating addiction is a fine example.
Here, under this goal, I plan on dealing with the revelations as they dawn on me. letting go of the issues or at least facing them honestly.