Perhaps “blues” doesn’t really cover it. Panic and rage are really the feelings that are overwhelming me right now.

About a month ago I got on the scale and panicked and decided, “enough is enough”. The scale had crept six pounds higher than the upper limit of the weight range to which I’ve grown accustomed. I decided it was time to “buckle down”, “get serious”, and any other aphorism you can think of.

In response I devised what I considered to be a reasonable food plan. Three planned meals, one planned snack, no junk food. The first week was challenging but I was feeling optimistic and energetic. That first week I lost 2 pounds!

The next week I stuck to the plan to the letter but lost only 1/2 pound. But it was that time of the month so I assumed I’d really lost more “actual weight” and the scale would reflect it the following week.

But that week included Passover, Easter, and a birthday. So the “extra weight” I was expecting to see drop didn’t. I lost 1/2 pound that week too.

At that point I was three weeks in a down 3 pounds. I should have been happy with that.

I wasn’t.

This past week has been filled with stress. Stress I tell myself I should be able to deal with, but just can’t.

There was cake. There were other things too.

This week I get on the scale and I’ve gained 3.5 pounds. I’m now back over the amount I’d initially weighed when I started this project a month ago.

This is how it goes. This is how I get fat.

When will this end?

I need this to end.

I yelled at my kids this morning. I yelled at my husband this morning. I yelled at the universe this morning. I yelled at myself this morning.

I have 30 minutes now to shower, blow-dry my hair, get dressed, eat breakfast, pack my lunch, prep dinner, and leave for work. I won’t make it. I’ll be late. I will look sloppy. This will make me feel like a failure.

The laundry from last week is still piled on the dining room table waiting to be folded. My daughter is pulling out socks from the pile in the morning or else she won’t have anything to put on her feet. She’s only 7 and needs me to do this. But I don’t. This makes me feel like a failure.

I can’t think clearly about what to do about breakfast. I don’t want what’s on my meal plan for this morning. And why should I eat it? My meal plan isn’t helping. I know this isn’t true. I know it is I who is not helping. But I can not accept my own failure.

I want cake.

It’s probably good that there isn’t any in the house. But it makes me feel panicky.

Sometimes I think that I should be grateful. Grateful that my addiction is just something that makes me fat. It’s not drugs, or alcohol, or something that would destroy me.

But I’m feeling destroyed.

How do I stop this cycle?

I know how. That may be the most frustrating part. I know exactly how. I’ve been there. I’ve done it.

1. Admitted we were powerless over food and that our lives had become unmanageable.

2. Came to believe that a power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity.

3. Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over the care of God, as we understood God.

But I can’t do it right now. I’m too alone.

The one OA meeting I can go to each week has only two other people who go to it regularly. If there are five of us it’s a windfall. They are lovely women. I am grateful for them. But it’s not what I remember from 12 years ago. Going to a meeting with 30 people, raising hands, sharing, saying the serenity prayer together. Having 3 a day I could chose from. All full, all brimming with recovery and, yes, relapse. There I could find my place. I found my higher power in the power of the people in those rooms. The two ladies who I join on Thursdays now don’t have that power for me. They are not a power greater than my will. My will is Godzilla, King King, and The Hulk rolled into one and then compressed into a tiny Gollum in my head.

I feel trapped by my disease. I feel trapped by my body. I feel trapped by my life.

I’m down now to 15 minutes until I have to leave. I’ve not done anything on my list of things to do. Yet I will put one foot in front of the other, hoping that the God I don’t believe in or the higher power I haven’t found yet will give me the strength to get through the day and will give me the peace to do it gracefully.

Advertisements