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Moon Phase = waning gibbous | Weather = clear w/ a few small clouds | Current books = You Can Heal Your Life - Louise Hay
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July 11, 1998
Tonight's going to be a long one - I'm staying up tonight. I know I'm insane but that's o.k. Since I am primarily a nocturnal creature right now, I am doing this so that I can get to sleep tomorrow night and get up and out the door at 6 a.m. Monday. I have to take C.M. to the hospital for some kind of god awful test. Here is last night's dream also. And now, tonight's ramble:
Pass Me That Twinkie, Sweetie, I'm in Luuuuuv (with Hating Myself).
The thing I really want to know is this: where did this love/hate relationship with food come from? It can be a really gruesome thing. Eat, eat, eat, eat, eat.
In my case, it's especially gruesome at times. It can really be awful. Eat because I'm happy; eat because I'm bored, eat...just because. Someone once told me that I did it because food had become a friend - perhaps the only one I had sometimes. That's not true, though. Not true at all.
Food isn't a friend at all - it's a medication. I'll admit it - sometimes I eat to medicate the pain away. The pain of being rejected. The pain of emptiness. Loneliness. The pain of choices made. Sometimes, it a 'preemptive' thing - medicate before the nasty stuff has a chance to take hold.
It never works. Oh, it may work temporarily but it will never last. The crash afterwards can be as bad, or worse, than the pain that I was trying to mask. The crash is where all the guilt and hatred comes in. All those nasty thoughts that the inner critic loves to throw out: "You idiot, look what you've done. Gone and made yourself sick. Look at you. You're all fat and awful." That's a taste (pun intended) of how it goes.
Another aspect of all this is food as shielding. Armor. The idea behind this is to put on weight so that no one will find you attractive/pretty/ smart/whatever - therefore you can't get hurt. You know - it's the theory of 'if you don't have it, you can't lose it'. This tactic usually works in a strange way. Not because of any amount of armor or shielding but because of the amount of hate there is for oneself. A cup on the verge of running over has no room for anything else. Of course, the inner critic loves this too - it just throws more of the same stuff at you.
It's not like some addictions either - and I cringe at calling this an addiction - you can't really hide it at all. It shows on your body. You grow bigger. Clothes don't fit anymore. You sometimes look at yourself in a mirror or catch a reflection of yourself in a window and you think, "Who is that??" You try to squeeze into the largest sizes you can in the 'regular' section of the store because you refuse to go into the 'plus' sizes because that's for the fat people and you aren't fat...
Ahhhh...which brings me to the denial. Denial is a big thing. You aren't fat. Sure you've put on a few pounds but fat? Nooo....can't be. It's a vicious circle, or tangle. I'm not sure which. I just know that it can be very vicious. I also know that I'm working on it.
I'll get it all untangled yet.
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