Losing My Religion

It's an odd thing to not diet after 5 years of "successful" dieting. And every once in a while I have this thrill flare through me at the prospect of going on some "cleanse" or some extreme diet for a week. I remember back in February I totally did Atkins for 2 weeks. I laugh out loud at that because Atkins is so fucking ridiculous. I lost 10 lbs. But the idea of having something, anything, limitless was a relief for me. Nevermind that I was bloated up like a puffer fish and didn't poop for 3 weeks- I WAS LOSING WEIGHT!! It was fabulous.

And so lately I've been tempted to diet.

Maybe just limit portion control.

Or maybe count calories.

Or maybe eliminate carbs. Carbs are such bitches anyway, right?

Or.......maybe Im just not happy with my "natural weight." In my opinion my natural weight leaves a little to be desired in the back of my thighs. Sometimes I catch myself staring at my thighs at the dinner table- completely unaware of how ridiculous it is. Like, full on leaning over and getting a full glimpse. (I just stopped while writing to look at my thighs)

But that's how It happens, right? We hit a good stride of contentment and then out of nowhere we're Overweight, Unhappy, Unsatisfied, and Back. Back to Here. And you know where Here is. Where you're not enough. Where happiness is found only in size 29 Seven For All Mankind jeans and spanx-less fitted tops. Where tabloid shots of celebrities are the control model. With their "body after baby" bodies that run like projectors in front of images of your kids, simple sweetness, present life.

Where "me time" becomes more important than ever because you're looking for Me again. Where the hell did she just go?? Because you can't find Me in the images in your head. You're back to where you're still not enough.

I'm pretty sure I weigh the exact same as I did when I quit dieting.  Which is great.  But I haven't lost. And I guess you could say I'm lingering in Not Enough.  Just a little bit.  But trudging through and going back to Me.  I guess this is how it works.  3 steps forward, 2 steps back.

I went back to my very first post on this blog.  And it occurred to me while reading through the chronicles of weight loss that I did have a good mindset.  I remember basically behaving like I was a size 6.  I lived life like I was already at goal.  I *knew* I'd reach it.  And it was healthy at that point in time.  And somewhere I got lost.  Counting points now doesn't mean the same thing as counting points then did.  And hell, I'd be happy to count points again if I could get back to that place.  Of hopefulness, patience, beauty, love, life.  I was positive.  I was content in the plan.  I trusted the plan.

Do I make sense?

I'm going to the pool now with my kids and Ed.  I'm putting on a bikini because it's all I own.  One pieces were burned after the tummy tuck.  Here's to my thighs!

*clink*

I'm going to get all Oprah on your ass...

So I went and read me a book called Women, Food, and God by Geneen Roth.  It "read my mail."  Totally.  It has completely changed the way I see myself and food.  I really can't remember when I clung to food.  It seems like forever.  I know it's always been an escape, a numbing drug, a way to feed myself love.  It's like a my "my own personal brand of heroin" as Edward would say to Bella.  I am Edward.  Bella is food.  Where in the hell am I going with this?

The first time I felt in control of my heroin was after I had Amelia.  When I was perfect to a T with diet and lost 80 lbs.  But I remember going past my Flex points one day after 7 months of complete perfection.  I was really upset.  Oddly upset.  Crying.  I called a friend and "confessed" it.  I wanted her to tell me I was still okay.  That I wouldn't get fat again.  And that moment was the beginning of my obsession with "losing weight."  If I stayed on plan- it was a good day.  If I went over my points- it was a bad day.  It was my religion.  I had no real sense of contentment or "goodness" unless I was in control of my eating.  I was not enough until I reached "goal."  I was not enough.

And so I read this...

"Can you remember a time, perhaps when you were very young, when life as it was- just the fact that it was early morning or any old day in summer- was enough?  When you were enough- not because of what you looked like or what you did, but just because every thing was the way it was.  Nothing was wrong.  When you were sad, you cried and then it was over.  You were back to a fundamental feeling of positivity, of goodness just because you were alive.  What if you could live that way now?  And what if your relationship to food was the doorway?"

What?   No, but see I'm fine.  I just have to lose 10 lbs.  It's not a big deal.

"No matter what we weigh, those of us who are compulsive eaters have anorexia of the soul."

Oh shit.  Now I gotta be all crazy-inner-healing-praying-girl.  I mean, I pray.  But I don't "deal."  Dealing with pain, emotional pain, makes me want to bolt.  I'd rather eat grass.  Do 100 jump squats.  Hold a plank for 20 mins.  Diet.

"Dieting was like praying.  It's a plaintive cry to whoever was listening: I know I am fat.  I know I am ugly.  I know I am undisciplined, but see how hard I try.  See how violently I restrict myself, deprive myself, punish myself.  Surely there must be a reward for those who know how horrible they are.....Making the decision to stop dieting was like committing heresy, like breaking a vow that was never supposed to be broken.  It was like saying, 'You were wrong, God.  You were wrong, Mom.  I am worth something.'"

And so the realization hits me hard:  I fill my life with goals to distract myself from being present.  Because if I'm working toward a "goal,"  I can be swept up in that task.  And not deal.

Geneen Roth tells the women at her retreats: 

"I tell them that ending the obsession with food is all about the capacity to stay in the present moment.  To not leave themselves.  I tell them that they don't have to make a choice between losing weight and doing this."

Ding! Ding! Ding!  My first thoughts on reading this book was that this lady was going to tell me to embrace my thighs, stop caring about weight loss and like me.  And that kind of thinking makes me feel like I can't breathe.  My obsession with weight loss (whether its fruitful or not) fills me.  It gives me meaning.  I know.  Sounds ridiculous.  But hey- I was successful!  I did it 4 years ago!  And hell, I'm only 7 lbs from where I was 4 years ago.  But I just..can't...get...there.  It's like it's just sitting out of reach and I can't do it.  And so what do I do?  Well, another project of course.  Yeah.  If I get all hard core and shoot to be a figure competitor then I'll have to lose the weight.  I'll have no choice.  And so I get obsessed with figure competing.

"Obsession gives you something to do besides having your heart shattered by heart-shattering events....  It creates a parallel world, a hologram of emotions, passions, breathtaking reversals.  It gives you the illusion of feeling everything without having to be vulnerable to anything.  In the drama of obsession, you are the star, the costar, the director, the producer....Obsession is a way of organizing our lives so that we never have to deal with the hard part-the part that happens between two years old and dying.  We compulsive eaters wouldn't have an obsession with food if we believed that life was tolerable without it." 

You know where this is going.  But I cannot have a realization like this and still be consumed with my "project."  And so I'm doing it.  I'm quitting.  Fuck figure competitors!  Nah, just kidding.  Fuck projects.  Fuck anorexia of the soul.  Life is too short.  In some ways I feel like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders.  In other ways I feel terrified of not losing those last pounds.  Losing ground.  Being a quitter.  A flake.  And I fear that some of you are thinking that I'm just being lazy and using this book to give me a ticket out of this figure thing.  I fear a lot.  I can be a very paranoid girl.

So what's my theme?  My goal?  What am I doing?  You know, bloggers have to have goals.  You have to be onto something.  Doing something.  And then post pics of it.

I am doing nothing.

Absolutely nothing.  I mean, I'm going to be here.  I'm going to ramble.  I still love fitness.  I still love mochas.  But I can't, with any presence of mind, be a figure competitor right now.  The perfection of diet and hard workouts are counterproductive to being "enough," because you're only striving towards changing yourself.

I want to deal with my need for distraction.  Hell, I have no idea what "dealing" looks like.  I've been through years of therapy that never touched this food stuff.  But I feel strongly in my gut that I read this book at the time I needed to.  And I want to be present.  For myself.  My husband.  My kids.  I just want to enjoy life because I can and I deserve to.  I want to be enough.