Wednesday, March 04, 2009
Image is: Peanut Butter by *jakegarn at www.deviantArt.com When I found this image at deviantArt.com, I laughed and thought, yup, this could be me!
So, itís like 3:54 a.m. and I am awake. I did go to bed at 11:20 p.m., missing my goal of 11:00 p.m. by 20 minutes, but still, I felt that was an accomplishment. I took my nightly meds in addition to one ativan. I hate how Iíve been taking two and thought what better time to reduce it than the night before I have to get up early for a doctor and psychiatrist appointments! I settle into bed to watch the news, a calming act for me as it makes me think of others and reminds me to stop feeling sorry for myself, when I suddenly crave Kraft Peanut Butter Lite Smooth.
I lay there until 1:00 a.m. trying not to think of peanut butter, but I can smell it, taste it and the addiction yanks me out of bed to go seek it out. Now I know itís hidden in the garage somewhere and itís not too big of an area, so I should be in and out lickity split! Nope, nadda. I searched for ten minutes and left the garage defeated. Paul is good; heís hidden it well. I feel a bit pissed at him, but I have no right because I asked him to do this to help with my binging. I go back to bed and two hours later Iím still awake, but more agitated than before. I clamber out of the bed, bouncing a bit more than needed in hopes of jarring Paul. I mean if heís awake, then I could ask him where the peanut butter is, because surely I couldnít wake him myself to ask, that would be selfish. Well, plan A didnít work, he continued snoring and didnít even budge. Now Iím up, what to do next?
Yup, thatís only one Weight Watcher point for the bag and if I eat one at a time, that will take the edge off my wanting the peanut butter. I nestled into my recliner, my legs crossed and covered with my paw print fleece throw and commence the dance with my popcorn. I open the top of the bag just a wee bit and inhale the buttery salty steam. I select one popped kernel and place it on my tongue then ever so slowly close my mouth down around this warm morsel. I like the squeaky sound that arises, but more than that I salivate as I chew on this one tiny treat that brings me much joy. After about five kernels eaten this way, Iím bored.
Never known to do one thing at a time, I pick up my book ĎThe Mindful Way Through Depressioní and start reading while eating my popcorn, which now seems to be going into my mouth three, four, five at a time. So much for eating my popcorn mindfully. All in my little world seems to be going well except for the fact that Iím still awake, I still WANT peanut butter and I have to get up in a couple of hours. I look at my food journal and become giddy realizing I have five points left! Woo hoo! Gonna get me some oatmeal now!
I heated up one pack of oatmeal, a first for me since I tend to eat two packs. I looked through the microwave glass and was astonished to see the oatmeal had risen to the top of the bowl and there were still five seconds left. Like a hockey game in overtime, my heart sped up and I couldnít speak. Would it, would it, would it stay at the top or would it overflow?! Iím rooting for staying at the top. Come on, one second left, you can do it!
Excited that the oatmeal did not overflow, I opened the microwave door hoping to see my masterpiece, but was greeted with a half filled bowl of deflated oatmeal. I was disappointed, but not enough that I wouldnít eat it. I filled the indentation with Splenda brown sugar and a bit of skim milk. To my recliner I returned. I placed the very warm bowl against my chest, and slowly stirred the mixture. The brown sugar streaked through the thick oatmeal creating swirls with each turn of the spoon. The milk did not want to mix with this gloopy mess taking a lot longer to give in and become one with the oatmeal. The texture of oatmeal always makes me laugh, for it resembles the cottage cheese that has implanted itself on the back of my thighs.
Once done my second treat, I did feel a sense of fullness, but the desire for peanut butter lived on. I have to accept it. Kraft Peanut Butter Lite Smooth and I are over. Why? Because my name is Cathie and Iím a peanut-butteraholic.
Sunday, February 15, 2009
Feeling really depressed today. My sleeping schedule is so whacked - go to bed at 6 a.m, get up at 2 p.m. I've got a tablespoon of light peanut butter sitting beside me. Just the smell of it calms me. I have a toothpick with which to use, but I'm putting off doing anything for the moment. I'm scared if I have the one, will I have another, then another, then another?
My weight loss since January has been lose one week, gain the next, lose, gain, lose, gain, so my goal for this week is to lose which would give me two weeks in a row of losing. Now you're probably wondering why I bring this up. Well, I'm scared if I have this tbsp of peanut butter it will lead to a binge which will result in a gain this week.
On the other hand, I have to learn how to have a little bit of something I love and realize it's always available when I want. Deep sigh.
Going to have the 1 tbsp and savour each dip slowly and with purpose. Afterwards, if I want more peanut butter, I'll drink down some of my lemon water, eat some veggies or go bike, basically anything to stop me from binging.
I can do this, I just need to believe.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
I feel lower than low. No... shower, energy, brushing hair, getting dressed, eating, drinking, joy, smiles, happiness, likeness of myself, hope.
I was up all night yet again, not going to bed until 6 a.m. then sleeping until 2 p.m. I do this more than I like to admit. I think this behaviour is what causes me to binge, hate myself and miss opportunities in life. I was to start a six week workshop called "Living a healthy life with a chronic illness" this afternoon, but didn't go. My excuses...I was too tired, I overate on Sunday so I needed to spend my time biking to get rid of the excess calories, I might be having my hiatus hernia surgery during these six weeks, I probably don't belong because my chronic illness is depression and other mental illnesses, I'll probably get lost and be late, I'll say something stupid and wish I were dead, I'm not good enough to go.
I feel like crying, but that feels like giving in to my weakness and feeling sorry for myself. This workshop probably would have helped a lot. I know I can go the remaining five sessions, but it's like if I didn't go to the first session today, there's no way I can go to the remaining. All or nothing once again.
I feel such utter contempt for myself. I was so lazy today that I couldn't even empty the dishwasher and put the dirty dishes inside. No, my husband did it. I just want to go to sleep, a really, really, really deep sleep. The kind where no matter what noise is around you, your body remains still. The kind that when touched, you don't respond. The kind that is void of nightmares. The kind that is still.
Friday, February 06, 2009
This morning was weigh in day at Weight Watchers and I knew that Iíd see a gain, but still, seeing the 3.6 lbs stung, and stung hard. Iíd gained the same amount Iíd lost two weeks ago. So, after five weeks, Iíve lost 7.6 lbs in total. Now, I have two options here: get pissed at myself for the gain, go home and eat peanut butter until I look like the peanut shell orÖÖ accept what is and focus on the total loss, thus enabling me to move forward. So, whatís it gonna be?
Iíve realized that I feel very alone in this journey and that I must make it a priority to post in the SparkPeople Weight Watchers Team Buddy Group 2. There are five of us, so getting to know one another would be fairly easy. Now I need to actually make contact. I get myself involved in so many things that I then feel overwhelmed and back off on everything.
Thatís what happened during these past two weeks; I set too many goals, and when I couldnít accomplish every single one, I gave up on all of them. Good Ďole all or nothing thinking gets me all the time!
So at this very moment Iím inhaling deep, holding my head high and stepping forward into the unknown.
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Monday January 26, 2009
At 3:33 p.m. today I turned 47 years old.
Do I feel different than I did at 3:32?
Yes I do.
Let's roll back to when I first woke at 12:30 p.m. I opened my eyes, stunned that I did not have the annual birthday thought of wishing I was dead. I paused, let the four dogs clamber over my body, then revisited my mind and again death was not present. No regrets I woke up. No visual plan of how I'd end my life. No tears. No anger. Nothing.
So what did I feel?
Was this for real? Did I actually feel happy it was my birthday? The answer was a definitive yes. I almost didn't know what to do with this reaction because from the day I turned seven until last year's birthday, my waking thought was wishing I were dead along with anger that I even woke up. Now, I'm not being melodramatic here; these are just the facts as I know them to be.
My birthday was filled with well wishes on my facebook page, emails and phone calls. With each message, I felt a bit more happy than I had a moment earlier. By the time we left my sister-in-law's house at 8:30 p.m., I was sooooooooo happy that I developed a headache and could feel my mood slipping from the top of the mountain. Also, it should be noted that I had not eaten a thing until I had dinner. I was on a high experiencing all these new, intense feelings of joy that had always been foreign to me.
So yes, I do feel different with turning 47 this year. I feel a gate has been unlocked and I am pushing through to a new life filled with hope.
This entry was taken from my personal blog at:
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