241.8 ( …again)

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Starting Weight: 318.2 lbs.
Last Blogged Weight: 241.8 lbs.
Last Week’s Weight: 243.4 lbs.
Weekly Change: +1.6 lbs.
Current Weight: 241.8 lbs.
Weekly Change: –1.6 lbs.
Total Weight Lost: 76.4 lbs.

Hello, friends!

After a one week absence, I’m back!

And I weigh exactly what I weighed when I last wrote to you.

The truth is, last week was a bad week.

I started back to school for my final semester of undergrad, and the workload has been much harder and much more stressful than I’d anticipated. I had out-of-town relatives visit last Wednesday (August 19th), too, and while we were all out dining at Ruby Tuesday, my uncle (the one who moved in with me after having a very serious stroke a few months ago) had to be rushed to the hospital again for what we believe was a second small stroke. The neurologists’ tests were inconclusive in the end, but something happened, and he was hospitalized for a few days and will now have to see several specialists for more testing. They aren’t 100% sure that it was another stroke, but they also aren’t 100% sure that it wasn’t another stroke. He believes it was a stroke based on the feeling alone… But, honestly, the doctors aren’t saying much of anything right now, so we can’t be totally sure.

So, anyway, I binged last week—a lot. Maybe it was a response to stress, maybe it was my attempt at needing to feel in control when everything else was so out of control, or maybe it was some other strange form of coping, but I was seriously out of control with my food consumption.

So, with that said, I knew I’d end up gaining at last Friday’s weigh-in… and I did!

I ended up gaining 1.6 lbs. last week, and I was definitely disappointed, but, alas, it was a warranted gain.

I didn’t write to you all last week and explain any of this because, sadly, I’ve noticed a pretty scary pattern emerging—one that truly, truly terrifies me: every couple of weeks, for the past couple of months, I write to you guys to confess a binge (or two or three) and a less-than-stellar week, I then promise I’m going to get back on track and I actually do (for another week or two), I have a couple of decent losses, and while I’m riding the high of those losses, I tell you that I’m back on the horse for good, and then BAM! A week later, I’m back to write about another string of difficulties and another episode of binging.

It’s all here, written in black and white.

You can skim through all of my blogs and discover the exact same patterns for yourselves, if you’re so inclined.

I think it’s safe to say that over the past couple of months, something has gone seriously, seriously wrong.

I binged on September 12, 2014—the day that I started Weight Watchers—and then I managed to go 10 months without another episode of binging.

It took hard work, determination, and so much strength and willpower to do that, but I did it—and I was a better person for it.

Since I slipped up and binged for that first time after the drought, I now feel like I’m back in the ED club.

I’m doing things that I’m horrified about and totally ashamed of.

I can’t remember how I fought this and overcame it before… Because right now, I feel like I’m on a sinking ship, and instead of trying to make my way to a lifeboat to escape to safety, I’m hanging out in the galley, stuffing my face with anything and everything since there’s no one there to pay attention because everyone else is running to safety.

I’m drowning.

And I’m lost.

And I feel sick.

This time, the sickness that I feel isn’t the typical physical sickness that’s been the star player of past binging episodes, though. This time, it’s a mental sort of sick feeling that’s plaguing me that’s even more awful than the physical sickness I used to evoke upon myself constantly.

Now that I’ve gotten to know my mind and my body a bit better, it’s so easy for me to see and feel the changes.

This week, I was exhausted so I slept whenever I could, and when I was awake, I just felt off. My moods would change at the drop of a hat, and I just felt so desperate all the time because I knew what was coming—I could feel the binges, and I knew I was losing control of my mind.

And I told people. I told anyone who’d listen to me that I felt like my wires were crossed—that something wasn’t right inside my head. I know right from wrong—I do—but my brain overrides all sense of rational or logical thought in the face of food, and sometimes I can’t control myself. I’m at the mercy of food, and my brain will not cooperate with what I so desperately want—which is to just walk away.

I tried everything I could this week. I tried to drink Diet Coke or eat other little things that were out-of-the-ordinary to try to satiate the monster, but it didn’t work. I binged anyway.

And then I got really, really mad—not at myself, per say… I just got really, really mad at the fact that this is my cross to carry. That this is something that will never, ever go away. That for the rest of my life, I’m going to have to deal with this.

And, no, that’s not new information—sometimes I’m at peace with the fact that this is simply my reality, and I’ve said that before here on the blog—but sometimes thinking about having to live like this forever makes my skin crawl. It makes me so angry that I could just spit fire.

I worry that my life and the lives of anyone involved with me—my family, my friends, romantic partners, what have you—will never be “normal.” I worry that I will never again be able to look at food and see it for what it is: nourishment for my body. But most of all, I worry that no one will look at me and see anything other than someone obviously dealing with some sort of mental illness—that no one will ever truly understand that if I could just be “normal” or I could just “eat less and move more” without feeling like this, I would.

But for some reason, I just can’t.

This week’s Weight Watchers meeting topic was finding your super power.

I said that my super power was humility—letting my actions speak for themselves and knowing that I’m no more special than anyone else.

We had to pick our powers from a list, and that’s the best I could come up with.

The rest of the options were:

creativity, curiosity, judgment, love of learning, perspective, bravery, perseverance, honesty, zest, love, kindness, social intelligence, teamwork, fairness, leadership, forgiveness, prudence, self-regulation, appreciation, gratitude, hope, humor, and spirituality. 

Since I had such a hard time seeing any of these other qualities in myself, for the next 23 weeks, I’m going to focus on each of these other words and make myself see that I’m capable of making any of them my super power, too.

This week’s word is gratitude.

I’m grateful that I’m no longer at the bottom of the mountain—that I’m already halfway there.

I’m grateful that I’m better than I was a year ago.

I’m grateful that somewhere in the back of my mind, I still believe that I can do this.

And I’m grateful for you. And the people at my meeting. And the people on Instagram and Facebook. All of you who try to reach out and pat me on the back when I need you the most—like when I’m screaming out that my wires are crossed and I’m elbows deep in a bag of Cheetos.

Eat well. Be well.



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