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In my life thus far, I can firmly say that moderation and I do not mix. I have previously mentioned my tendency to be very all-or-nothing in my thinking – and my behaviour is generally not that different. When I was told to reduce wheat (I was on a wheat free diet for four years) and, later, caffeine (I was caffeine free for just over a year) the easiest thing for me to do was to abstain completely. One cup of coffee led to another and on slice of pizza led to six. A diet was a starve, an overeat was a 2 day binge and a workout session lasted until over 600 calories were burnt and in the end, this led to my own little brand of non-purging bulimia.
This attitude has its bright sides – I have a strong work ethic and tend to persist vigilantly with a task until I am satisfied it is of a high standard – but it means that the whole “a little everyday” motto doesn’t work for me.
I wrote in my resolutions that I wanted to forget fear. This initially came from the realisation that I tend to insult and mock the people I am starting to get close to – and that I do this as a defence mechanism – that I am afraid of being abandoned. When I got a-thinking, I realised another thing – I had long known that sugar is my downfall when it comes to food issues, but until now I had been too afraid to let this comfort go. Now I think I might just be able to kick the sweet tooth for good.
Sugar affects the same part of the brain as opiates do and in certain individuals can lead to an addiction of sorts. These people tend to be hyperglycaemic (blood sugar spikes,) be unable to stop eating once started and have poor sleep and sore throats on a regular basis. Ding ding ding, guess who has all three?
Today is the first time in over 6 years that I have gone 24 hours without eating anything containing sugar. My head hurts, I am a bit tired and lord knows that I may be an utter gowl for the next few days… But I have to do this if I am going to kick compulsive overeating. I gave up purging, I can give up sugar.
I just need to get my head in the game.
As it turns out, recovering from an eating disorder isn’t the same as recovering from drug addiction or alcoholism – all are soul sucking and difficult, but an ED presents itself with one subtle difference – abstinence is not an option. When your addiction is food, you can’t just stop eating and go about your day, you need to find a way to eat enough (but not too much,) be around food everyday without using it as a crutch or a coping mechanism, taken adequate exercise without feeding the obsession. But I didn’t need to tell you that.
It has been such a struggle to fight the compensatory behavior – the fasting, the compulsive exercise – that my general reaction was to do the exact opposite – binge eat and veg out on the couch. But this is still engaging in unhealthy habits and this is still not being kind to your body.
It is so hard to motivate myself to do the right thing sometimes – and when I do go to an extreme (either over-restriction or over-indulgence) I often find myself rationalizing my choices and chastising myself for what I have done, this has a negative effect on my emotions and boom: back to square one. On a really bad day, I start reminiscing and idealizing the old days when I exercised for at least an hour 6 days a week, all whilst slashing calories enormously. Luckily, most days I can avoid this. But I can’t bring myself to run everyday, I can’t make myself cycle and lift weights and do aerobics and go to the gym day in and day out.
Its not all doom and gloom. Once or twice a week, I go for a walk/run or do some kickboxing. And I can make myself do this because I promise myself that the others days I exercise, I can do yoga. I have said it so many times in the last year but yoga really is a lifesaver. Not only does it stretch out all the aches and pains and give you a workout without a heart attack (and therefore takes the dread out of it), yoga connects your mind and body and promotes harmony in one’s thoughts and actions.
The above is a bit of a cliche but I rediscovered this today during my morning’s yoga. Yoga instructors so often talk about focusing on the present and focusing on being rather than doing and it is something that I have always intellectually acknowledged. Today, however, something clicked. I was holding Utkatasana for a while and my shoulders were burning and my legs were feeling it and all I could think was “cue it over. Please.” And all of I sudden, I stopped fidgeting and detached. And then the pain was just over. The unpleasantness had just ended. It was the closest thing to a religious experience I have had in recent memory – the Buddhist concept of separation from suffering came glaringly to mind.
Being aware of this ability to focus inwards and detach whilst on the mat is one thing. Now to apply that to everything else in my life.
I have lots of experience of eating. I also have plenty of experience not eating. Like all too many women can attest, this is the occupational hazard of the permanent diet.
Eventually time caught up with me and I was put on a road to set me straight, but how easy it was for me (and so many others) to be teetering along that edge of healthy living and disorder for so long. But we’ll talk about that another time.
For the past year, I have very slowly, not always successfully, been turning a hand at intuitive eating (eat when hungry, stop when full.) To be fair, I still binge a lot. I still occasionally make food plans and calorie allowances. And there are still foods I won’t eat. The difference this time is I am not avoiding to lose weight.
Becoming a Vegetarian
There is one substantial difference between giving up meat and giving up any other food, according to my diet at the time. I just do not desire eating animals. When I didn’t eat sugar or wheat or high fat foods, it wasn’t for my health or because I didn’t want them. It was because I was afraid of gaining an ounce.
Vegetarianism isn’t painful, depressing and difficult like dieting was. And I may not be ridiculously thin, but my body has never thanked me more.
Giving up meat has always been an option in my mind. When I was younger, I used to joke that I would go veg when I was living on my own to make washing the dishes less disgusting. At the age of 12, my then-best-friend constantly berated me to go veg and made me feel guilty about eating meat (even though she continued to eat it herself on the sly.) In college, I actually did give up most meat, but that was more to do with being economical (Quorn is a damn sight cheaper than a chicken fillet.) So what was the turning point for me?
In a way, I could say the Internet. A lot of healthy living bloggers and athletes I admire have long given up eating animals. A PETA video or two hardly upped my carniverous appetite. To be honest, I was eating very little red meat as it was. But then, the lovely Aimee decided to go vegan. And that inspired me – it showed me that someone my age could be a vegetarian for the right reasons, not as a fad or a way to lose weight, as I so commonly saw for so long. I saw that you could still eat healthily, that you could show your parents that a life without meat wasn’t the end of the world. Besides, what were they going to say? I was smart enough not to attempt another diet or try and lose weight in such a blatantly obvious way. So I hoped they would know it was for real.
I don’t miss meat, I shockingly don’t miss marshmallows and the symptoms of my digestive disorder have all but disappeared. I have opened myself up to a whole host of yummy new foods like quinoa, lentils, greek yogurt, tofu and millet, and I have plenty more in sight to try out. I have been shocked at finding out what has animal products in them (hello McDonalds fries.) And I have relearned the pain of “So, what do you eat?”
Sometimes its easier to just smile and nod along, knowing that I now eat better than I ever have, knowing that I am deciding what I eat, not ED.
I have lived a mere (almost) 19 years so far in my life. Those years have been ravaged with the ups and downs and inbetweens of being a kid, being a teenager and for the last few months, learning to be an adult. It should be said that my mother is absolutely amazing and shares many of the same attributes as my father, but sometimes it is all about being daddy’s little girl.
My dad is the person who let me sing into his microphone stand in the hall at two years of age, who played the guitar and taught me the words to “Don’t Look Back In Anger” and advised me to buy CDs over cassette tapes, seeing as I loved singing along with the leaflet words so much. These days, he is the one who lets me use all his hi-tech equipment without complaint, buys me business cards, and lets me sing my little heart out on stage without a second thought.
My dad is the person who shows us pictures from the 70s and 80s (courtesy of an old Dairy Milk Box,) introduced me to Duran Duran and Eurythmics by playing recorded radio shows in the car on the way to Spanish Point and Kilkee, regaled us with stories of interrailing and turnpike-jumping and recounted the wonders of the Acme Clothing Company.
My dad has only yelled at me like 4 times in my entire life (and in retrospect I totally deserved it.) He taught me the importanced of correctly folded towels and a well ironed shirt. I learned to respect a good work ethic and a broad (seemingly limitless) knowledge, and I strive to develop these things to even half the extent of him.
Because of him, I have never felt bad about dressing differently, wanting a tattoo or staying home from Mass. Because of him, I felt no qualms about starting a blog. Whether it was seeing dressed like Freddie Mercury or his encouragement that I could sing “The Sun Has Got His Hat On” in a pub as a child, I have never felt fear or shame or embarrassment on stage.
When I was away, my Dad would bring himself and my mom the almost two hour trip down to my house when I called up in tears. He fully supported me the day he drove me home for good. Weeks later, when I just wanted to die, he hugged me and watched old movies about Jerome Kern until I felt ok.
My mom once told me that, when I was first born, my dad would just stare at me for hours, as if my existence were something completely amazing. But then, he’s that kind of person who makes you think that maybe existence can be amazing.
I was younger than I am now. Somewhere between Communion and Confirmation for sure, but my concept of time is simply atrocious. It was summertime (or some non-school/holiday time) and my Dad was working as a courier by day, driving up and down the country, returning people their lost luggage and delivering to CUH amongst other places. Frequently, he made deliveries to Killarney.
As the oldest, I was the first to go on these “runs” with Dad. Into the van, we made our way to Shannon Airport (to collect the cargo) before setting off. Occasionally, we went to Cork or maybe even Galway, but often our destination was the hour and a half or so to Killarney. Part of the ritual was the lunch stop to the service station, as Dad filled the tank, and I selected my sandwich (turkey, lettuce and a whole lot of potato salad was my usual.) We would share the Coke.
If there was time, and there frequently was, we would make a stop at Killarney Outlet Centre. To me, this was the highlight of the day. What did this centre have, only a factory priced bookstore. My mother would often wonder why I came home armed with reduced priced non-fiction and shiny, new stationery.
The journey home was always longer, partly due to the pitstop, mainly due to Dad’s favourite driving practice “Let’s find a new way home” This involved me making a choice between two roads on the road map and Dad using his directional intuition until the buildings of Limerick City once again reared their heads. For all my effort, I was rewarded €2 (or it could have been £1. Concept of time, people.) which I had often already spent in the bookshop.
Since then, Killarney has continued to be a source of happy memories. It is the site of my first date, my first espresso, my first kiss in the rain. It is my stopover on the way to Kells and my BFF, Sinead, in the summer. Whilst you can hardly describe it as a shopping hotspot (try Cork or Dublin) it does hold a very nice Penneys. More importantly than the Penney’s is the atmosphere. I am in love with the park, the playground, the thickets of trees, the castle which I never quite made it to thanks to the rain.
I want to see that castle some day.
It is all too easy to think that everything is without point sometimes. On days when you are stuck in a hole, there is no light, no future, nothing. But then you sleep on it and the next day is a good one.
Today, I had a good day.
I ran 8 miles (and got some funny looks as I ate a Frusli bar on the treadmill. But I was hungry damn it.) And between the walk home from gym and the walk home from singing, I covered an extra 3 miles walking.
I went back to singing! ^_^ The Teaching Dip. is well underway.
I had epic food, including Chocolate Banana Protein Oats, Turkey and Cheese Omelette and Pork Steak Casserole. The clincher though was the Spelt and Pumpkin Seed bread that Paul (my Dad’s friend) kindly dropped off for no particular reason. Bless.
I was once again reminded of how amazing my friends are. Especially Megan, my sister from another mister. I love you, that is all.
Just a quick update to remind ye all that I am not all doom and gloom. Well, not all the time.
I set out 6 goals for the new year here. And in keeping with my own advice, I am going to make plans to achieve these goals.
This is going to be the hardest of all my goals. But it is also the one I am most focused on so here is my step by step plan on getting there.
- Eating enough to fuel myself without going mad – this proves difficult because I have been more or less on a permanent diet from the age of 15 until about 2 months ago. Especially since I started exercising with a heart rate monitor, I am shocked by the amount of calories I burn in exercise (anything from 200-600 a day!) and how much I was undereating on starve days. On the other side of the spectrum, binge days could be anything from a few hundred calories over to thousands over. My goal is to find balance. I want to listen to my hunger cues – eat when I am hungry, stop when I am full. I want to not be afraid of certain foods or feel like a small amount of something (eg peanut butter) will set me off on a tangent of eating until I feel sick. I am aiming to eat an average of 2000 calories a day to achieve this (and more on highly active days.)
- Exercising but not like a crazy person – I was very lazy for a long time (with the exception of dance.) But these days, I love to run. I love weights. I adore yoga, swimming, anything to get me going. So whilst this all started out from a very damaging place (burn, burn, burn those calories!) I am glad that exercise is now a big part of my life. Now that I am eating more, I don’t dread workouts or feel like I am going to die afterwards. I am stronger than ever and am a better singer thanks to my improved core. I want to keep this up for 2011 and make sure that a. I am exercising for the love of it and b. I am taking rest days without feeling guilty. Since I have a training plan for my 10K, I am finding it easier to plan and not overexert myself. Which my type A personality loves
- Stop seeing days as a success or failure based on calories - I am getting better at this! But ideally, I would like to look at an apple and see more than 80 calories. I want to eat a full fat yogurt and be okay with that. I want to not have to think about whether my day has caused me to gain weight. Sometimes its okay to eat a few cookies.
- Say goodbye to negative thoughts and behaviours – I figure this will require outside help so I won’t get into it. But I want to stop doing body checks, stop listening to fat talk and accept who I am. Oh the cliche sound of all that…
- Remind myself that there are things that a lot more important than a flat stomach and a sub-18-BMI weight. Things such as the abiliy to run, a greater control over my IBS, less stress, more energy, undamaged fertility and being free of bone-density risks. Hurray.
Anyway that is the plan. Lets see how that goes. I predict the next five will be significantly simpler
What’s your plan for the new year?
Twas the night before Christmas and all through the eve
Calamities occuring you wouldn’t believe,
The shower was frozen, the front door was stuck,
But Kate didn’t mind (she got off early from work.)
The pipes were all frozen from sub zero degrees
But nobody cared because Elf’s on tv!
The oven is buzzing, the heater’s making an odd sound
But who would notice with the smell of cooking ham all around?
The car wouldn’t start, our feet frozen to the soles
But all was made better by Milky Way Crispy Rolls
So anticipate surprises and trousers too tight
So from my laptop (in my onesie) to all a good night!
Worry. Nausea. Fear.
Family. Chips. Hot Water Bottle.
Anna. Megan. Jenny. Sca. GHD Curls.
Clancy. Squashing 6 people illegally into a 5 seater. Awesome speaker specs fresh from LeSAD.
The Old Cres. Cheap Drinks. Packed Bathrooms.
Dancing 90. Excellent playlists. Looking like an explorer (In a good way.)
Best Friend. Hugs. 18 kisses (for Steve.)
More Dancing. Frienassaince. Talking to people I haven’t seen in years.
Making plans that might never come true. Over-dancing guy. Hauntiness near our bags (shudder.)
Cheap taxi home. Pizza (Ryvita for me.) Late night X Factor.
Hot Chocolate. More Sca. Bed with make up still on.
That is what makes for an epic night.
It was a good day. Between my first run after the bad knee (best 15 minutes of the last 2 weeks. Short but awesome.) and the consistent layer of sparling snow, making even mundane suburbia a little beautiful, I was all ready to get in the Christmas spirit. In accordance with Farmer’s Day (well… the day of the immaculate conception. But I’m a heathen.) we got festive and decorated. Little Sister and I were up at the crack of dawn (well… that’s a lie. I was up. But I decided breakfast and yoga were far more important. Then banking and Centra. But after that.) and off to cleaning we went. We were a flurry of lifting, sorting, tidying, dusting and sweeping. I even moved couches instead of just going around them. The house was ready.
Next came the trip to the attic. Dad took the lead, for as we all know, a woman’s place is not in the attic. A woman’s place is holding the ladder and then catching the very heavy boxes only to leave them drop clunkily to the floor. Which totally didn’t happen to me…
Amidst frustrating fairy lights, a plethora of Santa hats and many a candle holding decoration, it was done. And I have the pictures to prove it.
Behold, the goth tree. It’s essentially a spiral of darkness. Finally, internet proof to my friends that my family promotes black christmas trees. That’s how we roll.
Aforementioned candle holders.
The haunted crib. See that angel? For years, Dad claimed it just flew off at im. We laughed. Suuuuuuuure, Dad. Until it happened to me today. This is what I get for all my talk of “evolution.”
The cute, non-haunted crib.
Snowman the first.
Snowman the second.
Snowman the third, happily hanging out on the stereo. We like snowmen.
Mom’s doll. She has had this doll for 20 years and continues to be her favourite christmas item. She may love it more than me. And yes, the eyes are drawn on with a biro.
Me, chilling in my santa hat. I’m aware of the state I’m in. I wasn’t leaving the house. I swear, how I survived the first 17 years of my life without boy’s fatmans, I’ll never know.
Trifecta of bears!
Yet more snowmen!
Very precariously placed on the windowsill.
The christmas bears of my childhood. Decorations may come and go, gifts may be forgotten, but the bears will remain. The bears will return.
Happy december!
X
