IT'S NOT HOW YOU START, IT'S HOW YOU FINISH

Hard to write today and admit i flubbed. My ego would prefer to admit I was doing fabulous - that I got back on track and stayed on track. Embarrasment and shame and regret seem to constantly revisit me.

I know i'm nuts. I know that. I do know i have psychological problems around food. And when it comes to handling my emotions. But, since alot of people do, too, I figure, there's no shame in admitting it.

I had a mango for breakfast yesterday, which i felt guilty about (sweet tropical fruit which is supposedly no good for obese people to lose weight...according to Carlene).

I had a green smoothie with 1 banana, blueberries and spinach. (beginning to feel guilty about the banana...supposedly not good for obese people to lose weight....according to Carlene.)

I had watermelon, which i didn't feel guilty about.

I had another green smoothie, which i felt guilty about because it had another banana in it. That was 2 so far. Where was all my banana-resolve?

I was HUNGRY...and had a banana whip with 2 bananas and strawberries and agave. And felt guilty because now i had 4 bananas, and agave, which isn't supposed to be good for obese people to lose weight on according to Carlene.

The hospital said it was best to stay away from mom alittle more because company seems to be agitating here since she wants to talk and can't, and she's also still confused, so that adds to her agitation because, we're like, 'Mom, what?, what do you want? you're not making sense..." as she struggles to communicate by way of whispering, no, actually MOUTHING, and we have to lip read, because she has the tracheotomy, and since she's confused, what she mouths is often nonsensical. (my heart breaks and i tear up writing this.) My father and i agreed we wouldn't go yesterday. So, i called the nursing station, heart beating nervously, to find out how mom was doing, and the nurse reported that my dad had just been there, so i felt guilty. And he never called to tell me he went, so i felt abandoned. Later, he told me the family doctor had visited my mom and told my dad that he thought a 3RD SURGERY for my mom was warranted. My dad called the surgeon immediately. The surgeon said 'ABSOLUTELY NOT,' but qualified that if the drainage does not stop after 2 months, we should look at the possibility, only then. And i starting imagining that mom would never get well. Never recover. And i had horrible thoughts of her forever in a wheelchair or maybe never learning to walk again or talk again.

And Cliff went to his cousins last night to sleep over as they were going fishing 5am the next morning. And i was alone. And i was bored and a million things needed to be done and i didn't want to do anything. And i was emotional. And i started thinking about food. I thought about blogging, confessing i was having food thoughts. I have a wedding to attend in 15 days and i want to be 30 lbs lighter and fit back into my pretty halter gown, the one in the picture from yesterday. I ate so many bananas. And i have my class reunion in October and i want to be 60 lbs lighter for that and look as good as i did last summer. I thought i was going to make seed cheeze? Heck, i OWE it to myself to look good. Why do i have to look and feel like shit? And i have to meet with Susan today for lunch and I wanted to be bloat-free and unembarrassed about me. i wanted to be proud of myself.

But, nothing made sense. I FELT bad. On so many levels i didn't even understand it. I felt lonely. Unmovitated. Unsupported. Scared. Guilty. Fearful. Shameful.

I made a conscious decision to 'entertain' myself with cooked food.

It IS entertaining, binge eating. It is. It's a fun activity that feels good in my mouth. It tastes good. Makes me feel good.

And then it turns ugly. And i can't stop. And i feel awful. And i'm so sorry. And I remember back to what i was thinking about....and i realize that i felt guilty about the bananas, and who the fuck cares how many bananas i eat, and why the fuck do i have to care so much about doing this perfectly, and i'm such a fuck up...and i feel like the biggest failure in the world and i'm so ashamed. And the house is a mess. And my father doesn't want to sleep over here because the house is not good enough for him. And we don't make alot of money. And I'm such a good singer, i could even be GREAT, I often sound better than professional opera singers do. And why aren't i singing professionally? Because i fear i'm not good enough. Because i'm scared of rejection (auditions), so i never even try.

Everything kinda snowballed in on me last night.

A binge is just like a tantrum....it's like a breakdown, a total mental/physical/spiritual breakdown. It's like a drunk getting drunk.

I felt SO bad about me last night. All of that food in you makes you feel disgusting, too, not just physically, but, like emotionally. Why do i have to be garbage disposal for all of that garbage? Do i really hate myself that much? Some books say binges are never because you hate yourself, they're because you LOVE yourself and you know no other way of making yoursef FEEL better. It's a self soothing mechanism.

I cried alot last night.

Flipping channels, I happened upon a christian guy with no arms or legs talk about not being perfect and God loving him just the way he is. Extraordinary.

"What do you do when you fall down...? There are sometimes in life when you fall down and you don't feel like you have the strength to get back up? Do you think you have no hope? I will try 100 times to get up and if I fail 100 times, I try again and again. I want you to know, it's not the end. Do you think i'm gonna stop trying to get up? It doesn't matter how you start, it's how you finish. And you will find that strength to get back up." NICK VUJICIC

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J80ZFwHTK84


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I woke up...and i didn't feel that bad. All of the guilt and shame I felt last night seemed to fade away. I felt like i could start anew, start afresh. If what i want is to feel better and do better, then i should just do that. And have no shame in admitting it.

I cried alot watching that video. And i know he's right. Fuck, if he can get up? So can i.

xoxoxo michelle joy