Seriously Speaking, Part I

We must interrupt our normally scheduled programming to transition over to a discussion about my recent concerns that I may be developing disordered eating. Binges, followed by tight restrictions, followed by a binge again. Collapsing into my husband's arms last week and just sobbing that I barely eat anything anymore, but don't lose any weight. I am always thinking about food. I berate myself when I overeat. This is what dysfunctional eating is. And it's what I am doing.

I'm here to nip this crisis -- and it's a real crisis -- in the bud. Some people very, very close to me have eating disorders and I know intimately the pain and suffering that goes alongside them. To think that I myself may be joining them in this turmoil is, in some ways, too much to bear. But folks, the roots of my disordered eating tree are growing, and if you go back and read through this blog since I hit maintenance seven months ago, the clues, the progression of the disorder is there plain as day.

Because we are not going to solve this today, or next week, or even next month, I am going to step back here and share a poem. It should resonate with those who have the scale problem like I do. For those who weigh regularly with no real issue, this can perhaps give you insight into why some of us wrestle with the scale so much.

TYRANNY
By Wendy T.
August 7, 1988

When did tool turn tyrant so on me?
From measured weight to loss of liberty?
When the experts know much more, they log the diet victims in statistics lore.
It's war.

The tyrant lies full square -- a foot to either side.
There's no relief at hand, no place in which to hide.
The digits tell the tale of what the day will be
For me.

Depressed or high depends on what I see.
Illogical, fantastical as it may seem.
A pound or less can shatter some sweet dream
Of permission to eat.

There is no joy of final goal achieved.
It has to be maintained to be believed.
It's war.

The body craves some food and the obsession feeds
As mind controls it and denies it's needs.
The fear is always there: Will all control be lost?
Self-discipline upon the seas be tossed -- in one great binge or more?

It's war.

All have a cross to bear in life.
Stone captives filled with strain and strife.
We battle all alone with these our fears.
I hope declining years

Will slowly show the way.
And I, in truth, I will some day say:
Pass the bread and butter friend.
The war is finally at an end.

* * *

Sometimes silence is not so golden. I think if we can talk openly and honestly about disordered eating, it starts the healing process. So in the next few posts, I'm going to try to pull the curtain back a little bit on my situation. I worry, of course, that I will be a "downer" for some people, that what I write can somehow be used as "fodder" to justify attacks on Optifast. Optifast is not to blame for this. Frankly, no one is to blame.

I am going to be gentle with myself as I work through this eating issue. This is going to take time. Thankfully, I have the time to devote to this. I'm holding steady at 8-10 lbs. over goal and this is an okay place for me -- right now. As always, it's baby steps. And I'm pretty darn good at walking this way now! Thanks all for your support. It means the world to me.