Those Days of Yore

I'm not having much luck returning to those days of yore when I was losing weight. I talked to my coworker about my late triumph, and he was shocked to hear that I lost 40 pounds. "You have to stick to it," I said, in response to the question he didn't ask: "What happened?" I thought I could go back to eating "normally," occasionally eating cake or ice cream or potato chips, but I couldn't without re-triggering the old addiction.

When I thought of that word "normal," though, I realized I had never actually eaten normally, or as a person without an eating addiction eats. When I was young, I was restricted by my family and by the lack of access to fattening foods. We didn't have the money to indulge in junk food, and my mother made sure we ate as healthfully as we could, despite our limited means. Then in college I was restricted by a very tight food budget that didn't allow indulgences.

After college, though, when I had money enough to buy bad food, the struggles began. Normal for me was never an option; there was only restricted and unrestricted--the yin and yang of dieting. Most people with eating addictions see-saw between those two states. Neither is normal in the way a non-food-addicted person eats.

So what to do? Admit that I will never be able to eat normally, or in the way people like my friend Linda eats. Realize I'm stuck with these genes and find a way to deal with it and still remain slim. Shirley Simon was wrong--it really isn't possible to cure addiction. One can only hope to be constantly "recovering," as they say.

Be the Tiger

King Henry:Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more;
Or close the wall up with our English dead.
In peace there's nothing so becomes a man
As modest stillness and humility;
But when the blast of war blows in our ears,
Then imitate the action of the tiger. . . .
Henry The Fifth Act 3, scene 1, 1–6

Okay, so, the junk food is almost gone now, but there will be more opportunities to eat high-calorie foods, rest assured. So, what to do when that happens? As King Henry would say, "Once more into the breach!" It's time for war, and "when the blast of war blows in our ears," we cannot afford to be modest or humble. We must "imitate the action of the tiger."  Grrrrrr . . .

But how to be a tiger with food addiction? My enemies are two, it seems: Hunger and Habit. Oftentimes I'm confronted with intense hunger that I feel a crushing need to satisfy immediately. That's when I'm subject to eating high-calorie foods (HCF). But I really don't need to do that; I just think I do. What should I do instead? No, let's change that word, that bad should word that carries with it all those guilt feelings. Let's make it more positive: What could I do instead? What are my options?

Well, sometimes I try to eat fruit or other lower-calorie, higher nutrition foods (LCF). That works, but only for about an hour; then I need another infusion of calories to go another hour. It's inconvenient, since I have to bring to work more and more foods to get me through the afternoon. Afternoon seems my hardest time, and the hard time continues into supper, since by the time I eat I'm so hungry I wolf down my food, eating more than I need to.

What other options do I have besides eating fruit or other LCF? Well, I could ignore the hunger, but that has proven to be unwise in the past, because eventually I start to feel weak, faint, or irritable--sometimes all three.

But eating every hour means more calories. I guess I could eat less at meals, or save some for later. That might work. And it will get me habituated to eating less at a meal so that I don't fill up beyond satiation. But it will be hard, no matter what.

Evening is also hard because I must face my other enemy: Habit. I've become accustomed to eating after supper, not because I'm hungry, but because it feels good to stuff my face while watching TV. Eating is okay if it's necessary, but it should be within the limits of the food intake for the day. I like to eat HCF in the evening, but I don't always need to. And I don't need to eat in front of the TV either because, as Shirley says, I'm creating a new chain of habits that I will at some time have to break.

Another problem I have is with measuring and weighing--it's very time consuming and when I'm doing it, I'm hungry and my food is getting cold. I tend to overestimate when I'm hungry, and I want to skip doing it because I don't want my food to get cold. It's the anxiety that comes with the hunger, I think. What to do about that? Stop worrying and just tell myself I'll be okay, that nutrients are coming and everything will be fine. That's what Shirley says: take a breath. Maybe saying Grace was a way people had of slowing things down, keeping themselves from attacking their food like a hungry animal. There's something to be said for that, even if the pause you take is not religious.

Let's face it--I've analyzed this situation 10 ways to Sunday, as they say, especially in this blog. I know everything I need to know about why and when and what I eat. So the next step--the hardest step--is action. Back to the battle! Be the tiger! But remember, the tiger is not only fierce, but watchful, cunning, smart.

I'm not ready yet to "close the wall up" on my hope for slimness. So it's into the breach, dear friends. Once more.

Cold Turkey?

Okay, it's a new year and we still have lots of junk food to "get rid of," that is, eat. And then we can stop, right? Well, it won't be easy. Cold turkey stopping is the hardest, but probably the most effective way of getting it done. And what do I want to get done? Deal with my eating/food addiction. And it's not eating, really, that's the problem, it's eating certain foods, foods that have become like addictive substances in the way that alcohol is an addictive substance. Drinking alcohol is the fastest way to get the alcohol into the brain where it alters one's perceptions and satisfies the physical need that the brain has created by adding receptors. Chewing and swallowing is the fastest way to get the addictive substances from food into the brain, too, I guess.

It's interesting, really, that the person who drinks to excess craves the feeling that alcohol gives her or him. Why would anyone crave that feeling? One of my former coworkers, who was an alcoholic, said that the feeling was one of "riding," as if he were on top of a wave, above it all. It must be that not riding meant crashing, and that there was no in between for him. But in between is where he would want to be, one would think. In between is normal. Maybe normal was too boring? No, it must be that normal for him meant depressed. And that is because he needed what alcohol was giving him in order to not feel depressed. For him, there was no place where he was not depressed and also not drunk. Or at least he feared there was no such place. His preference was drunk over depressed because he thought that was his only choice.

So, is that how it is for me? Do I fear the state of not eating because it means being depressed? What is the state of eating? What can I call that? Drunk, inebriated, sloshed, blitzed, etc. are all terms one could use for being under the influence of alcohol. But what does one call being under the influence of out-of-control eating or some other compulsive behavior like gambling or shopping or hoarding? Blissed? That doesn't seem to cover it, really, because often times it doesn't feel like bliss--it feels like fear. At first it feels like bliss, but that doesn't last long. Same way with alcohol, I think. It feels good at first, then it feels like nothing. Then, the next day, when the cravings start, it feels bad to be without. The crash happens when the wave collapses.

So, going a day or two without sweets is uncomfortable, but about the third or fourth day, it starts to feel bad. The wave collapses and the addict crashes, going under the water for a while before struggling back to the surface. It's uncomfortable, then frightening. Then the drug-seeking behavior starts and the mind homes in on finding supplies, getting back on top of the wave.

So, how to get past it? Well, the body says that you need to go longer without, to resist the mind's solution, get past the bad days until the cravings diminish to a reasonable level. Will they ever disappear? Maybe, but probably not. The problem is they can be fully restored with just a small amount of the addictive substance. A single cookie, a half a doughnut, a piece of birthday cake. Because those brain-created receptors don't go away completely, they can be reawakened, and quite easily, apparently.

What do I tell myself, then, when the cravings start? It's painful, after all. Do I lock myself in a room and not eat for a day or three or five? Not very practical, and not possible, really. So what, then? Good question. Twelve-step programs tell you to get with your sponsor, talk it through, rely on each other for support. Are there any other possibilities? Smoking cessation programs give you a drug to take until you feel ready to quit altogether. But that's not cold turkey, as they say.

So, I'll have to think more about how these things can work. Shirley Simon has several methods for dealing with an inability to control eating certain foods. Her method for the most difficult ones is to just keep them out of the house or out of reach. Another is to get someone to help you clear the table after you've served foods you can't eat. There are other methods.

But how to face the painful effects of withdrawal? Good question. I'll have to think on that more.