Aug. 1st 2010
No human being should actually have to be subjected to the hormonal issues I have been dealing with for the past 5 days or so. Without going into the intimate details, I have made some changes in what medications I take, and the cruel irony is that the side-effects of these changes closely mirror a post binge food hangover. Physically, I am so puffy that my calves are actually sore to the touch. My eyes look small and bloodshot. My tummy is hanging over the band of my sweatpants. And as distressing as these physical symptoms are, nothing could be worse than then the emotional roller coaster I can’t seem to get off of!
Intellectually, I know that the main reason I feel so uncomfortably bloated and emotional is the hormones. The timing is terrible for a sensitive woman with an eating disorder history however. I went to Cape Cod determined to be reasonable and respectful with food, but not to diet. I don’t condone dieting period, but dieting on vacation is off the table for me. Two years ago I went to Italy and spent a week in September in the countryside near Tuscany. This was the most profound vacation of my life, and with regard to eating, it was the most profound week of my life period. While I was there, my struggle with food was lifted. Although it had already been several years since I had binged, purged or restricted, I was still accustomed to the constant emotional, physical and mental struggle that went along with managing my relationship with food, and I had accepted that this was my cross to bear in life. However for that one week in Italy, without any explanation, this struggle was lifted, and I experienced what it was like to be “normal.” I could write a whole book about what happened in Italy and what that experience meant to me, and probably someday I will, but the Cliff’s Notes version for now, is that it was amazing food, I ate what I wanted, and I didn’t gain an ounce.
When I went to Cape Cod, as I do every time I travel, I carried with me the memory of my trip to Italy, the freedom I felt, and the precious experience of absolute comfort in my own skin and comfort with food. So here I sit tonight, a little mixed up and a little sensitive about what went down last week. Because bringing the confidence of having had the Italy experience, did not fully translate to my current experience. I struggled a great deal on this trip both physically and emotionally. I became more deeply aware of some intense family issues while on this trip. I push myself hard with work and career goals, and this trip was no exception. And like for most of us, the financial pressures just can really feel endless. Sifting through the pile of mail the eve of our return, I opened an invoice for $2000, an oral surgery procedure that I was told would be covered by insurance, apparently isn’t.
I feel intense gratitude and wonderment at the high contrast life I live these days. Because I no-longer abuse food, I actually feel my feelings. I do feel deep sorrow and loss, as no one is immune to this. And yet I simultaneously experience intense pleasure and joy. Even with the pain I have been feeling, every day of my vacation I loved myself enough to get up and run for 45 minutes in the park, along winding paths through the woods that gently led me to that gorgeous shimmering ocean. I loved myself enough to open myself to tremendous learning during the conference, and felt the passion for my career so intensely sometimes that a tear would come to my eye. I loved myself enough to spend quiet time with my Todd, not always needing to say something, allowing myself to just feel us exist together, without the competing demands of everyday life.
When I read over my food journal from vacation, I can see that I certainly did not eat a weight loss diet, but I did not eat what amounted to what the scale reported to me yesterday evening. When I say “let’s just not even go there,” what I mean is,” let’s not weigh, let’s not talk about what I weigh, let’s not think about what I weigh.” I went back and forth with myself about whether it would make sense to weigh myself after vacation due to what is I knew was going on with my body hormonally, and in the context of eating more on vacation. I turned it over and over, eternally trying to find the elusive balance between honesty and tenderness, and decided that this blog is written to capture every step of this journey, as organically as possible, and so that means writing about the hard times as well as the celebrations, and how I live through that. So I stepped on the scale yesterday, and it told me I gained 7 pounds. Ouch. And as much as I do believe there is a hormonal water retention piece going on with this, perhaps there is not! Perhaps I ate more than I realized on my trip, and I have gained back 7 of the 9.4 pounds I’ve lost.
For today, my responsibility is to love myself. That is the commitment I made in this blog, and that is the ONLY thing I can control at this point. Projecting about the reason for the 7 pounds or the long term meaning is not what this is about. There is no deadline, there is no endpoint. This is my life, and this is the person I want to be forever from this point forward. So what that means concretely, is that today I woke up, and I put one foot in front of the other, and I went for my run, I ate nutritious meals, I unpacked, I did laundry, I went out and spent a little time with people who understand me, I did my bills, and I decided to make the choice to enjoy life today, which means accepting everything as it is…7 pounds heavier,with an imperfect family, and $2000 dollars poorer. Right now I’m snuggled up in my bed, I’m thinking about the day I just I had, and I’m liking who I am.
