It's been one week...*

It was only a week.

Maybe I shouldn't be so excited.

Just a week.

Seven days.

Not much time.

But somehow, a lifetime.

One week. That's how long it's been since my last binge. And maybe it's too early to celebrate. That's OK. I'm going to quietly mark it down and remember today as a measured triumph. Today, I remind myself that if I can get through one week, I can get through two, or three or hundreds.

I may have to start over. I might have to come back next week and say that it's been a day or even an hour since my last binge. But for now, the important thing is that this shows me that I can do this. Shoot, I *have* done this. And just because I haven't done it in a while doesn't mean I can't again.

It's strange how a week can seem like a flash or the most agonizing seven days of one's life. I'd say this past week has been somewhere in the middle. I've got so much going on at work and in my personal life right now that I'm a tad overwhelmed. And when I get overwhelmed, I shut down. I procrastinate. I eat.

But not this week.

This week I stopped myself when I thought, "Just this meal. Tomorrow I'll be better." Thinking about coming here and telling you all--and telling myself--I'd made it a week kept me from doing that.

So yeah, it's just seven days. But maybe it's just the first of lots of days.

* My sincere apologies for anyone who can't get the Barenaked Ladies overly catchy li'l ditty out of his or her head.

The seduction of addiction

I want to say, first of all, that I planned this entry a while ago and amended it a bit. I decided to continue with it in hopes that you guys know me and have been with me a long time (most of you) and therefore know I would never, ever trivialize this subject or compare my own woes to those of anyone else. I never want to seem self-indulgent (but, well, this is my blog so it’s going to happen sometimes. Oftentimes, even.) or make my issues seem any harder than anyone’s. But we’re all on our own journeys, aren’t we?

For a lot of people, addiction is a dirty word. I know it has been for me. My therapist used to say “To be human is to be addicted.” I know I scoffed at that once or twice. But then I realized she was right. It’s just that not everyone’s addictions manifest themselves in obvious ways.

This week, we saw the death of a supremely talented actor. And I read a lot of criticism about him from anonymous—and not-so-anonymous—Internet commenters. He was selfish, because he chose drugs over his children. He was an idiot who couldn’t get his life under control. It’s his fault he is dead because he was a drug addict.

These hateful words hurt me as if they were about me. Partly because, in many ways, they are about me. 

Before any of you roll your eyes, I’m not trying to compare my food addiction to heroin addiction. My addiction isn’t quite as dramatically fatal (though it can definitely lead to early death). It doesn’t involve syringes. I’m not going to get arrested for it.

But the darkness. The loneliness. The helplessness. These are the feelings that I think come with any addiction. These are the feelings that have permeated me lately.

I need to own up to what I am, before it becomes all that I am. Yes, I am an addict. And yes, I’ve had a relapse. I’ve been in the middle of this relapse for a while now.

I’ve been choosing food over life. Over friends. Over my boyfriend. Over family. I’m eating in secret. Feeling helpless.

Perhaps this sounds overdramatic. You know what? I don’t really care. I’m angry. I’m scared. I’m lonely. I hate this feeling of food being the thing I’m living for. It hurts too much. 

The ironic thing is that I have been one of those not-so-anonymous judgers in the past. I have friends and family who have dealt with addiction. And I often said the words, “I can’t believe he/she would choose *insert addiction here* over me.” I’d get frustrated and angry.

But when I think about it in my own life, I see things differently. I don’t want to choose food over anything else. I want to choose my friends and family and boyfriend. I want to choose life.

So that’s what I try to do every day. For now, though, I think it’s important—critically so—to acknowledge where I am now—where I have been for a while. Just so I can move on. 

So yes, I have had a relapse. But I’m committed to choosing life over darkness. I probably will have to repeat that to myself every single day—and I won’t always succeed, but I will make it happen.

I choose to live.

Depressination

Three years ago, when I wrote my very first blog entry, I talked about avoiding the annual health fair, despite the fact that participation would earn me a discount on my insurance. I was just too ashamed to let a stranger measure me and tell me everything I needed to do to change my life. It just seemed insurmountable then.

In subsequent years, I've not thought much about those health fairs--my only reason for not going was the pain of the flu shot or finger stick (seriously, those finger sticks hurt a LOT. And for days. I'm a wimp, apparently.). There was no worry about getting my biometrics done. Yeah, I was still overweight, but I was working to change it and knew exactly where I stood.

But this year was different. This year, I waited until the last possible day to attend. I thought about not going. I cried about it. I agonized about a stranger weighing me, measuring me and telling me everything I need to do to change my life. It just seems insurmountable now.

I am unhappy. With myself. With my regression. With my insecurities. With my lack of self-control. With my body. With my mind. I feel like I don't know who I am anymore.

I can't blame it on anything. I can maybe pinpoint when I started going backward, but I can no longer blame it on anyone. Not even myself.

Because you know what? Blame isn't going to do a damn thing. It's not going to take off these 40 pounds I've gained. It's not going to stop me from bingeing (and sometimes purging). It's not going to magically transform me into the motivated, weight-loss machine I once was. I am miserable, and I'm the only one who can fix it.

I was talking to my boyfriend the other night and crying about the health fair. I wasn't crying just because I didn't want to go. I was crying because I felt like the 300-something pound me who actually didn't go to the health fair back then. It hurt my heart to think of how far I got and how many steps back I've taken.

Though I'm depressed, I've also found a new determination (depressination? Boom. Blog title). I know I've said this before, but right now I feel like my life truly depends on it. I'm really making a new commitment to cut out processed foods and sugar--the things that make me feel terrible, sluggish and generally awful.

I'm making baby steps. I'm fighting like hell to ignore the very strong urge to become a hermit and cut everyone out of my life. This isn't easy. And right now, it's not even about my scale. It's about gaining control and believing in myself again.

Getting back to this blog is a must. But I also feel like I've let a lot of you down. I'm sorry for that. I'm trying. Always.

I believe in miracles

This month, I'm participating in a marathon.

Sort of.

I'm raising money for Children's Healthcare of Atlanta through the Children's Miracle Network Hospitals' Miracle Marathon. From Oct. 1 through Oct. 27, I have to move a mile each day, culminating in one extra mile for the kids.

It's only my third day of my marathon, but already a strange thing is happening. I'm remembering how much I like to move.

Throughout this journey, the exercise part has been easier for me than the food part. I'm no athlete, but I'm more likely to push myself physically than deal with the mental (food) part. That's why, despite my eating being out of control several years ago, I was able to earn my black belt.

But lately I've struggled even with the exercise part. I haven't pushed myself. I've barely even pushed myself off the couch, much less worked out on purpose. I am fortunate enough to have a lot of workout-class options through my job, but I'm not really taking advantage of them (except Cardio Fusion, my favorite). I don't belong to a gym anymore and my favorite Zumba class moved too far away for me to make it after work.

So instead of looking for more options, I've just kind of sat still.

When I heard about the Miracle Marathon, I knew it was not just a chance for me to make a difference in the lives of the children we serve through my hospital, but it was also a chance to make a difference in my own life.

I'm committed to this thing. Every day, I'm moving a mile at once. And that's a lot more than I have been doing lately. It feels good. I've even found myself making better food choices the past couple of days.

It reminds me of Lent. When I was in the height of my eating issues, I would still give up fast food for 40 days. And I'd actually stick to it, because, you know, Catholic guilt = fear of hell and all that.

So, yeah. Maybe I'm doing this marathon for a bigger reason, but maybe, just maybe, it will mean a miracle for me, too.

P.S. I can't post this without inviting you to visit my page to support me in my Miracle Marathon, or search to support someone raising money for your own local children's hospital. I also promise this will be the only time I post it. :)

Friday faves--the gadget edition

It's been a long time since I've done a favorites entry. I've found lots of things to love in the last few months, but I thought today I'd concentrate on my favorite gadgets.

More than a blender
Those of you who follow me on Facebook already know what my favoritest favorite is going to be. I obsessed about it for months. I watched videos. Read blogs. Pored over reviews. And then spent an inordinate amount of time trying to justify spending more money on a blender than I do for my monthly car payment. Thanks to QVC's Easy Pay, I was able to swing it. And guess what? It was totally, totally worth it.

I use it every single day. I make smoothies that are as smooth as milk (not even a teeny tiny piece of spinach), the creamiest mashed cauliflower I've ever had. I made soup out of nothing but red peppers, cashews and water (to die for), ice cream made out of only frozen bananas. I'm convinced this thing can help achieve world peace (seriously, maybe people are just cranky because their smoothies are chunky).

It's hard to try to convince anyone to spend that much money on anything. But if you're thinking about it, can justify the cost and are just wondering if it's worth it, consider this your enthusiastic YES IT IS.

Nooooooooooodles!
I have told y'all before that I'm not really a pasta fan. I like it OK, but it's not something I'd ever order in a restaurant (even an Italian one).

What I do like? Zucchini. One of my very favorite veggies, for sure. I had read a few recipes that featured zucchini noodles, and I was instantly intrigued. But how do you make such pretty ribbons out of a hard, green vegetable?

Zucchini noodles with avocado cream sauce. Yum!

 The first thing I tried was a mandoline slicer. I'm sure this works perfectly well for some people. But I couldn't quite get the hang of it and was left with a mushy pile of zucchini. Not at all the pretty strings for which I was hoping.

Enter the GEFU Spirelli Spiral Cutter. Coolest thing ever. You put your veggie in the little opening and twist it until perfect little noodles come out of the side. It couldn't be easier. I've seen other spiralizers that are huge and take up lots of counter space. This is small and seriously effective. One of my favorite things to do is make a salad with cucumber noodles in a sauce of vinegar, sesame oil and soy sauce. So good.

Wrist Party!
Now, for my favorite non-kitchen gadget. Fitbit was another gadget I obsessed over before finally taking the plunge. Several of my friends and co-workers have one, and I wanted to join the cool kids' party. It's been a while since I've been obsessed with something that's fitness-focused. But I'm officially in love with my Fitbit. It tracks your calories burned, your steps, even your sleep.

You can add friends and keep up with their steps, too (even send them jeers or taunts). My favorite thing is that if you hit your goal for the day (which you set yourself. Mine is 10,000 steps), the Fitbit lights up and buzzes, creating, as my friend Laura calls it, a party on your wrist. It's so motivating to be able to see your goal and actually achieve it. Love.

So what are your favorite gadgets that help you stay healthy?

One doesn't have to be the loneliest number

Yesterday, I crossed something off my bucket list. I went to the movies by myself.

Now for some people, this isn't a big deal. I have friends who love going to the movies alone. But for me it was a significant thing. I probably could have found someone to go with me, but it was important to me to do it on my own.

I have realized that I base way too much of my own self esteem on what I think others think about me. It's not even what people say or do, but how I perceive it. And it's kind of messed up.

As I settled into my chair (I saw The Butler, by the way. Fabulous.) with my small popcorn (OK, and Junior Mints, which no one cared if I dumped into the popcorn bag), I panicked a little. Am I the only one all by myself? Look at that group of girlfriends who are together for a movie date. Do people think I have no friends? No one who loves me?

The bigger question: Should it matter?

I wish I could say no. Unfortunately, I let it matter all too much. But I allowed myself to be a little uncomfortable, and then I enjoyed the movie. I walked out of there almost like I would after a good workout--with a big sense of accomplishment. Being alone isn't so bad.

Here's the thing about me. I've always been desperate to fit in--no matter the circumstance. My former women's group began in a rocky way for me, with one member telling me I didn't need to try so hard, that they already liked me. It hurt my feelings, but she was right. And it made me see things from a new perspective.

I hate that I'm jealous and insecure. I struggle with that especially in big groups of friends. I worry that no one really wants me there--that the only reason I'm there is because of the one person that really likes me who says "Come on, guys. I know you don't really like Erika, but give her a chance." And then I ruin it by trying annoyingly too hard. Almost every time I leave a group of two or more friends, I analyze how I acted and if they will want me around in the future. And then I tell myself that the NEXT time, I'll be less chatty, less desperate, less insecure.

Why am I telling you all this? It is a little hard for me to write about, because it's embarrassing and perhaps the part of me I most dislike. I long to be confident and not worry if people like me. I mean, my friends love me. So why do I question this? Constantly? It creates a vicious cycle.

I think about my movie date with myself. Of course I'll question whether or not people like me. I mean, I don't even like hanging out with me.

It's something I am trying to work on--being OK with being who I am--whether that's in a group or by myself.

But I hope people who love me will remind me, like my very wise friend did once upon a woman's group, that I don't have to try so hard. Being myself is enough.

Loud and not proud

Excuse me while I dust off the cobwebs.

There. That's better.

Hi, friends. Yes, it's been since June since I've blogged. Yes, I'm still struggling. Yes, I'm still trying.

So there's that.

Besides my weight gain, and my clothes not fitting the way I'd like, I think I'm most bothered by my emotional state. I find myself, more and more, choosing food over events. Over people. Over everything.

Not only am I choosing food, but the self talk in my head, which I've always struggled with, has become resoundingly negative. And super duper loud. It's keeping me awake. It's keeping me from wanting to do things.

All parts of the old me who keep creeping up again.

Though I've never fully gotten rid of the negative self talk, at some point I was stronger to resist it and shoo it away. Now it feels like a dark evil force that strangles my every thought.

I don't mean to be so dramatic about it. Clearly, I hate dramatics (wink, wink). But seriously, it's a gravitational pull lately.

As an example. Last night I dragged my fat a$$ booty to Cardio Fusion for the first time in like a month. I worked hard, but the entire time, all I could think about was my jiggling stomach, my flapping arm flab, how much I'd let myself go. Why couldn't I focus on the good things I was doing for my body?

My negative self image has permeated my life and is working at a new level. It causes issues in my job, with my friendships and with my relationship. My sweet boyfriend, who never yells at me, has once or twice raised his voice to say, "STOP IT. You are talking about the woman I love. And I'm sick of it."

He's right. I'm sick of it, too. This is certainly not the first time I've talked about my self-loathing. But I know for sure it's what's keeping me stuck.

I had a wonderful therapy group for years, but our leader moved and we disbanded. I miss them. I miss having an objective sounding board. I know I need that. So I'm going to look for a new counselor and get this stuff in control.

It's making my head hurt.