Addition of Book Lists

Greetings everyone, I've just added a couple book lists to my blog page. There are two categories so far, Books about Eating Disorders and Books about Abuse and Healing. These are just a few of the books I've read or are reading and I hope to add more along the way. Would you be interested in a list of video/documentaries about the subjects as well? Please let me know.

I invite you to add your favorite books to the list. You may list them in the comment section of this post. I'd love to know what you've read and your opinion if care to share. I will talk about different books from the list periodically. Perhaps we could have a little book review post together.

GUILT and SHAME: How Abuse Distorts Perceptions

WARNING: This post may cause triggers. Sharing about self body image, psychological abuse and sexual abuse.

How many of us can recognize how our pasts effect our present and future? Not being able to see this connection is not as uncommon as you might think. As a matter of fact, it is more common that you could imagine. That is why I will periodically write about past events and explain how those events affect me today.

Eating disorders don't start out of the blue. They develop over time. For every addictive or hurtful behavior there is a root beginning. There is a point where things shift and move towards an unhealthy path. It is time to recognize those points of shifting, work through them and propel ourselves into a healthier direction.

I don't think that I've talked much about my feelings of guilt, shame or disgust. Though I do not feel at fault for what my parents have done to me, I do feel fault and guilty for what I've done to myself. I've also recently discovered that I feel fault and guilt about things my parents blamed me for especially if there was something I did want to do and I am told that something bad came of it...I believed it.

GUILT

When I was very young, about 6 or 7 we had this lovely dog named Brutus. Funny, I'm just now able to remember his name. He was a large brown boxer. My parents had just recently gotten him. I was a little afraid of him because he was so large, but I cared for him very much and wanted to bond with him. One day after finishing my school work I went out side to play with Brutus. He was lying beside the back porch. I called his name, but there was no response. I called is name again and still no response. Then I began screaming his name over and over again. I ran in the house still screaming and crying. My mom had her back to me. "He's dead...he's dead!" I guess my mom got tired of me screaming. She turned around and glared at me. "It's YOUR fault!", "It's YOUR fault that he's dead!", "YOU never wanted to feed him or clean up after him! I had to do it all!", "He died because YOU didn't want to take care of him!" Eyes stretched wide and completely silenced, I stopped crying. Was it really my fault? Did I kill Brutus?

To this day that moment still haunts me and yes, in a strange kind of way, I still feel guilt for Brutus' death. I feel guilt when I get a little angry with my son and just want him to go to another room and be quiet for awhile. It's not that I would have said anything. Usually it's just a passing thought. But there have been times when he's gotten sick after I had a thought like that and I wondered...was it my fault? Will God take him away from me because I wanted him to be quiet? It is truly unfortunate what I experienced that day so many years ago. And it is even more unfortunate that I am still affected by my mother's words.

Recently there has been another incident when I've felt profound guilt for something I ultimately had no control over. It was when my son had his bout with constipation. Even though his pediatrician said it was common, I still felt as thought I had done something wrong. I could not sleep for carrying the guilt. My guilt turned into anger. How dare my body work properly when my son's body cannot. The guilt was more than I could bare. I hated myself and I began starving myself again. I know this is extreme. I can't help how I felt. I believed bad things happen when you don't do things perfectly and being a less than perfect mother caused my son to get sick. This way of thinking is a product of the abuse that I endured. I realize that. Now I need to figure out how to combat those strong emotional responses to my past. How do I shake this?

SHAME

My parents were ashamed of me and I was ashamed for embarrassing them especially in public. I could always tell they felt this way. It was how their voices dropped when it came time to introduce me. "And this is my (pause) daughter." Not only did I not behave normally like other kids my age. I wasn't as attractive as my parents. They were picture perfect...on the outside... I felt like an alien, often wondering if they found me under a bush or perhaps someone left me on their doorstep. I would imagine a spaceship flying by and I haphazardly thrown from the ship landed in my parents yard. I can't ever remember feeling as thought I belonged. Oh well, they were stuck with me and I them.

I  about being fat and an eyesore...a disappointment. They would constantly point out all of my flaws and tried earnestly to figure out how to correct them. I lost the ability to see myself as worthy of being loved or worthy of anything. I lost the ability to see myself at all.

I never believe that I deserved how I was treated, but I didn't believe that I deserved to be treated any better either. I wasn't sure what better was anyway.

I still feel the shame for being fat and unattractive. And fat is still my safety net, never to worry about being touched again. Just thinking about it makes me want to scarf down a few oatmeal cream pies as I schlep around the house in old socks and loose clothing camouflaging my girth. It's not working. I tell myself that I dress this way because I want to be comfortable. Lie! I'm hiding...hiding in plain sight. If only I could implode and disappear.

Everyday is a struggle...going through life hoping no one sees me. I hate having to deal with the outside world, my tenants, especially. When I go to the properties, I feel like everyone is staring at me because I'm so fat and disgusting. Shame oozes out of my pores as I encounter each new person. There is silence and  Dear God, please make this go away. I am that same little girl walking down the street with her parents and feeling as though she is a complete outcast and does not belong. Only now I'm not with my parents, I'm with my son. My beautiful son, tall, handsome and well dressed. And here I am...well, I just am.

This reminds me of a book I once purchased for a friend, "When will I Be Good Enough: Healing the Daughters of Narcissistic Mothers." I should have kept that book for myself. I'm always stuck in between feeling or not feeling good enough to be my son's mom. Almost identical to feeling that I was not good enough to the daughter of my parents.

Are you starting to see the distinct patterns between past and present?

All I've ever wanted was to be loved and accepted. No matter how I look I would never be accepted or loved by my parents, many family members and past so called friends.

Fact: In the past, most of the people in my life were only in my life because they wanted or needed something. I am not mad at them. I only wish that I could have had a healthier relationship with them. I wish they could have seem more value in me as a person.

Now that I have been blessed with both love and acceptance from my son and a few friends, I still struggle with believing that it's real or perhaps I just don't know how to accept unconditional love, because it's not something that I'm familiar with.

I hope to become a healthier slimmer me without the fear. I don't know what it's going to take to get there, but as many of you already know, I am always searching for answers and solutions and I believe I will find those answers and solutions one day.  

A huge thank you to those of you who I've come to know and love. Thank you for your support, love and kindness and thank you most of all for your acceptance.

Back From Break - April 25, 2014

It's good to be back! I have just had the most wonderful, peaceful, restful break. I hope everyone had a lovely holiday weekend and Spring Break.


I cooked most of the time while we were on break, but I will report that we did get take out 3 times. It was good and so was I. I did not order extra foods for binging. I tried to order foods that were healthy...a whole meal if you will. I purposely avoided sandwiches for myself because that would only be a tease and could trigger a binge. There was one night when I had two handfuls of vanilla wafers. That night was my only weak moment...pretty good, eh. I wouldn't really call that a binge because it had been several hours since we ate dinner. We ate around 5:30 or so. I had not eaten anything else until the cookies. I count that as being pretty good.


Breakfasts are much easier to deal with. Now, I will say this...there were no stresses over the break period. We started to have company, but I found it to be a little too stressful having to get ready for guests. Besides, having company does not equate to taking a break, especially when breaks rarely occur. No company this go 'round. Not having stresses made it much easier to stay on task. The scheduled eating time is really working for me. My mind is much more receptive to accepting time as opposed to sensation. There are not excuses when it comes to scheduling times to eat.


It feels good to write again. I'm so glad to be sitting here writing in my blog again. There were moments when I was tempted to write, only because I miss talking to you guys, but I made myself stay true to myself and adhered to my own wishes for having this break. I needed a break from everything.


It won't be long before having my therapy session. I plan on talking more in depth about the letter to myself. As I stated before, an emotion came up from a pivotal point in my life that I need to take time to address. I usually like to process things of this nature, having all my pros and cons in place before discussing it with my therapist. When I do that, I feel like I'm giving her a complete thought as opposed to something random. We only have an hour and I like to make good use of the time.


My plan is to resume writing my letter or at least asking more questions and answering them without thought to see what comes up. That's pretty much how things happened the last time. I posed my question and an emotion poured out without thought, which was startling, but a revelation too. The emotion that emerged gave me reason as to why I made the decision I made and why I've been carrying a looming feeling of nothingness. I hope more emotions emerge this weekend. I ready this time... And if it doesn't happen, that's okay too. I'll just keep writing.


I'm also glad to report that I have not had crackers as a meal for some time now. This was not a decision of mine, it sort of came out of necessity when I found that my son had eaten the rest of my crackers one night. I freaked at first...wondering what to do. My initial thought was that I would have great difficulty eating anything other than my crackers. Lo and behold, the crackers may have been a bit of a crutch. Once again, appeasing my mind which made me believe that I could not tolerate eating anything other than crackers first thing in the day. That theory has been proven wrong. I can eat other foods, just small portions. So I am still eating eggs for breakfast, a sandwich for lunch and then dinner. I usually don't have an evening snack nor do I eat a late night snack every night.


It's time to take a serious look at exercising. I'm really going to need it now for two reasons. I am eating at my optimum and want to increase my metabolism, especially since I'm giving my body enough fuel to do so. Exercising regularly will also help me deal with stress better. I'm thinking that I will need to do some stretches and deep breathing exercises at first. This should help me cope with the emotions that I'll have to face while writing my letter. I am at a critical point. My eating seems to be on track and steady. I am feeling hunger in the morning and my body is getting used to having the calories. At this time it is key to find and maintain ways to deal with stress. Stress in the number one cause for my downfalls; after stress comes the depression and finally guilt. By then my eating is off track and I have to start from square one again. I don't want that to happen. Everything has been really good so far. One tiny step at a time...One day at a time.


It won't be long before I've reached 30 days of eating well. Should I count the cookie thing as a mini binge? Maybe for argument's sake I'll hold off on claiming 30 days without binging. I want it to be solid. I'm satisfied with the way things are now and look forward to many more good days and nights.

Painful Image

I've been trying to write this post for two days. The subjects of body image and self-image are touchy subjects for me. I'm not one who likes to think of my image. I'd much rather hide in the shadows or blend in with the background.

That being said, I'm still not sure where to begin nor do I know where it will end. I must have started and deleted this post two or three times and I'm still struggling. I sure do use the word struggle a lot. Crap! This is complicated. Anyway, here it goes...


How does one begin to describe themselves? Which vantage point is better? As they say, there are two sides to a coin. Both sides are different, yet work in unison to create one complete coin. So, what happens when both sides are so different that they don't make a concise unit? In other words, what happens when one's body image does not match one's self-image? 


What's the difference between body image and self-image anyway?


BODY IMAGE


A subjective picture of one's own physical appearance established both by self-observation and by noting the reactions of others.


SELF IMAGE


dʒ/ The idea, conception, or mental image one has of oneself.

---

In my personal opinion, I believe we all come into existence with a clear idea of who we are and what we are meant to look like. A prime example of this is a person who feels they were born the wrong sex. They recognize this at a very early age. Clearly they have an understanding of who they are, but when they look in the mirror they don't see themselves. Instead they see someone else. They know what they see is real, but it's not right. 

My situation is different, but similar. It is not a question of identity by sex. I was born a female and know that I am supposed to be female, however, there is and always has been an image in my mind as to who I am and what I should look like. I have yet to see that image in the mirror. Therefore, I've never felt that I was fully myself. I'm more of a creation, pieced together by circumstance which making me a bit of a Frankenstein. I can't help but think of a small excerpt from one of my poems. It all makes sense now.

Look at it!

Hideous, monstrous…grotesque,


 A real life Frankenstein.

People will run and scream.

This is how I feel and at times that was my experience.

The image of me that lives in my mind is beautiful. I'm tall and voluptuous with long locks and flawless skin. I have a peaceful expression and a wealth of love that radiates from me. When I look into a mirror...I see a body ravaged by pain, patchy skin color, dim eyes, massive girth serving as a wall to keep people away, but also doubling as an ill fitted band aid. A poor attempt to cover my wounds. I see a void, a huge nothing. I feel nothing for myself. 


It is the effects of abuse that molds me and makes my image askew.


I grow angry when I think of what I perceive as should have been, as opposed to what is. I grow even angrier when I think of all that I could have been or at least have tried, but didn't because I had no support nor did I have anything left after warding off my parent's evil. Life is but a mist. I don't know how long life will be for me. I want to make the best of the time I have left. I grow weary thinking of how much time has passed and how much of that time has been wasted on survival. I haven't even begun to really live yet. I’m so very tired...


Enough with my image issues for now. I'm going to focus a little more energy on my letter to self. By the way, it's coming along well. I'm not in a place where I feel comfortable sharing the content of my letter, but I will keep you abreast of the progress and any epiphanies that come of it.


I will share this much with you today. While I was working on the letter yesterday, I began asking myself questions. I asked a particular question and answered it immediately. Only thing, it wasn't my 48 year old self that answered. It was me at the age of 4 year who spoke up. That was totally unexpected and shook me completely. I'd never heard the voice of my 4 year old self before. It wasn't an actual voice, but an internal voice. She wants to be heard...so I'm going to listen and write.


Dear God, please be with me, that I be able to withstand what I am about to endure. I've never had an experience like this before. I know that I've been trying to get inside myself and here I am. I am ready, but I am also afraid.

Affirmations Not Working

You may remember me talking about affirmations a few days ago, maybe a week or so ago. It's something that I try to do after exercising or to get through a rough patch in my day. I've not been keeping up with it too well. I'd say it's been 3 or 4 days since I've last made an attempt.


I feel like I'm trying to convince myself of an untruth. Somehow, I've got to figure out how to have positive feelings about myself. I'd like to be able to feel love for myself someday. As it is right now, I'm just going through the motions. The best thing I can do for myself is to be honest with myself and recognize when something does not feel right. Saying the affirmations is nice, but I don't believe what I am saying, at least not in the sense of self. How do I achieve that. In my world, people say lots of words that don't have meaning. Almost all my life this has been a fact. Forced to say I like things when I don't. Forced to say I love when I don't. It was a matter of giving into the control. Much like loving myself, I wanted to love my parent too, but they wouldn't let me. I tried... I was more comfortable with my mom, she was the lessor of two evils. I know that I loved them at some point. I can't remember when I stopped. It's hard to love someone who beats the love out of you. It's hard to believe someone who loves you is capable of hurting you beyond measure. Literally robbing you of you every possible sense of self or self worth.


I am at a cross roads. If I'm not able to love that which hurt me, how can I love myself. I've hurt me too. I don't want to, but I still do. This is a problem. I'm going to have to get over this hurdle before I can make progress in anything else that I attempt to do for myself. I must figure out a way! What will it take to convince me that I am worthy of love? How will I learn to love myself? I know my son loves me. I can see it in his eyes. Do I feel I deserve it? No. But I am totally grateful for it. It's the first time someone has loved me and not hurt me. I love my son. Beyond these words I cannot describe the emotion I feel for him. Oh, one word comes to mind...pure. My friends and family say they love me. I've learned to say thank you, but their words have no meaning. Truth is...I don't know how to accept love. I know that I have love in me, just not for me. I think I want to be loved. Not sure if I can handle that. Too much fear. I fear being brutally hurt again. I thank God everyday for allowing me to be a mom. His blessing me gave me a glimpse of what love is supposed to look like. Even though the love of my son means the world to me, it's not enough. I can admit that. My precious angle's love gives me strength, but his love alone will not save me. I need to be able to love myself and to not be afraid to be loved by others. If only we lived in a perfect world where people who say they love really did love. I don't think humans know what love is. It's not possible to love someone and hurt them. I know. I could never do to my son what was done to me. A true mother would lay down her life for her children, not take life from them. A mother's love is supposed to shield a child from danger, not hand them over to it. I can't get past what my parents have done to me in the name of so called love. Dear God, please help me. I can't do this on my own.

Climbing Mt. Everest

So far I've accomplished two nights of exercise, 5 minutes each night. I had to force myself, but afterwards I felt good about my accomplishment. One thing that helps me get through the hurdles is to set the bar pretty low in order to build the skills I need to survive and thrive. That takes a lot. I don't think many of us understand what it takes to love ourselves after years of mental, physical, emotional and sexual abuse. We don't know what that's like. We haven't been taught how to love ourselves or even that we are worthy of love. How do we find a way to do this?


I listen to motivational speakers sometimes. It seems well enough. There's an immediate reaction when listening, but that reaction is short lived. What happens when reality returns and the seductive mist of motivation clears? We end up back where we began because we have not built the skills or gained the know how to see our way out of the thicket of emotions.


Where do you wear your emotions? Do you know? Many of my emotions are suppressed by disassociation. That which is somewhat visible is shown in the form of anger and weight gain. I am angry at my parents and know what they did is wrong. I'm aware that it is NOT my fault. Even still, I struggle daily to end my destructive behavior. What is the "thing" between knowing the abuse is not your fault and loving yourself enough to stop hurting yourself?


Let me see if I can explain and you tell me if any of this sounds familiar to you. It's not that I want to hurt myself, even though there was a time when I did. I was 19. I'm much older now and do not wish to hurt myself, but I can't seem to stop hurting myself. I know my eating habits are bad and my body is paying the price. I know I need to stop, but it is harder than hell to stop. The feeling that I feel when I know I need to stop and can't is the feeling of having my parents standing over me and punishing me. You see, it's not that I want to hurt, it's what's most familiar to me. Hurt, pain, sorrow, need, desperation, all of these things are what I'm most familiar with. I believe that is what makes it so hard to walk away from it. Now...add on the lack of love and you have the perfect cocktail for a myriad of failed attempts to get better.


What's next? Well, now we figure out a way to become familiar with feeling good. This is our Mt. Everest. How do we go about it? Just as we would if we were attempting to climb the actual Mt. Everest. Come up with a plan. Be aware of your obstacles. Be prepared for surprises along the way. Steak out your lifeline. Take one step at a time. Don't worry about the summit just yet. Keep your focus on the smaller goal of reaching the next base camp. Does this make sense? Let me incorporate what I'm actually doing and see if that paints a better picture.


My climb of Mt. Everest - Breaking the cycle of self damaging behavior.


Plan to reach next base camp - To slowly increase appropriate caloric intake and incorporate 5 minutes of exercise daily.
Obstacles - Lack of love for myself
                   Uncomfortable doing good things for myself
                   Trouble committing to good/wholesome behaviors
                   Low self-esteem
                   Feelings of worthlessness
Possible surprises - May go into denial and fall back into old habits
                                Suddenly Giving up
Lifeline - Faith, religious practice, accountability, logic


Each day that passes is one tiny step closer to reaching the next base camp. Hurdles may change from base camp to bas camp, so stay in touch with the things that give you the most difficulty. Be willing to explore options as needed to combat hurdles. Talk to a therapist, a friend and keep a journal. All of these things help.


Food intake is not the feel good goal that I'm working on. It's a necessity for fighting off binging. The feel good factor comes in with good behaviors like exercise, meditation and affirmation. These are the feel good goals that I've set for myself. I have not gotten into mediation or affirmation yet. For now, I am aiming for 5 minutes exercise. Even though it's like pulling teeth, I'm hoping that I become familiar and have a desire to feel the sense of accomplishment that comes after.

Abandonment

I think people generally think of abandonment as the leaving of someone or something and not returning to it. That is correct. But there's another level of abandonment. To be abandoned emotionally is even worse. You may have the physical presence of the parent or parents with you, but they are void and unable to give anything emotional to you or maybe the only emotion they give is anger even hate. Living with a person who is void of emotion is like living in or near a black hole. All things that go into the hole are lost, even light. They drain you of everything and give nothing in return. You question if you should feel the way you feel. Sometimes you are made to feel guilty for feeling abandoned, especially when both parents are in the home. I was told that I could not possibly feel abandoned because I had both my parents and that I should be thankful for them, because so many little girls and boys live in broken homes. Why is it when a child is raised in a single parent home they are considered a broken family as opposed to living with both parents who are abusing you. What is that called? Is that not broken?


I'm a single parent. Not my wish, but it is a fact. I think about the words "broken home" as I look at my family dynamic. Our home is not broken. There is love, affection, attention, nurturing, patience, laughter, peace, joy, stability, encouragement and teaching. As a parent, I devote time to cultivate a well rounded individual. One who has hopes and dreams. One who is comfortable in his skin. One who knows he's protected, has help and support when he needs it. Isn't that what a child's supposed to have? Obviously it is possible to give or receive all of these things in a single parent family. Ours and many other families are proof of that. Society puts to much on having both parents present. It's all about what is considered complete. The look of a family. Having a sense of "normal" family. What is a normal family? Is there such a thing? Society needs to revamp their definition of broken family, because they are wrong. It's not the physical absence of a parent that breaks a home. It's the emotional absence of a parent or both that breaks the home. Doesn't matter how many parents are in the home. Emotional absence is the culprit to the lacking of every conceivable need with exception to monetary need. That doesn't require emotion.


To live without emotion is not living...not even existing...it's nothing...empty.


You may question how I am able to give love and affection to my son when I was deprived of those things myself. Well, I tend to operate out of logic first and emotion second. Logically speaking, what I experienced as a child did not feel good, so why would I choose do to that to someone else. If it doesn't work for you, don't do it.


My greatest obsessions are exploring cerebral ability, human behavior and human nature. I study these things at all times and in many scenarios. I've seen several family scenarios in life and on television. I draw out the positives and then I think of ways to incorporate those positives in my daily practice or future practices. I want to give my son what I never had. He deserves that. In order to give my son what I never had, I must learn what good things are to be given. My son did not ask to come into this world nor did he ask to be autistic, but he's here and he's wonderful. I tell him everyday. And I pride myself on seeing that my son knows he is loved and wanted. That is everything to me.


There are two kinds of mothers and I don't mean biological and non-biological. What I mean is breeder and nurturer. Breeders give life and little else. Nurturers give their heart no matter if the  child is biological or not. My mother was a breeder. I chose to be a nurturer.


Today was not a good eating for me. I ate a pack of peanut butter crackers at 2:47pm. No afternoon snack. I'm determined not to eat take-out today. Dinner was eaten at 6:30pm. We had meat sauce with broccoli over rotini pasta. No hunger sensations today also no urge to binge.


There was a strange occurrence last night. I was watching a movie with a friend over the phone. While watching the movie I decided to break my own rule and get some chips and a little dip. I was a bit heavy handed on the chip portion, but I thought it would be okay. It would serve as my late night snack. Midway into the pile of chips and I suddenly had to stop. Everything started tasting really. I lost my appetite and put the chips and dip away. That is a first. I don't know how it came to be. My guess is the daily purging of my feeling and heightened awareness of eating habits is beginning change me. I'm in an altered state. I have to say, it felt pretty darn good being able to push those chips away. I hope and pray the binging cycle soon dissipates. And I hope it stays gone forever.


One other thing, I kept my promise to myself last night and exercised for 5 minutes. Tonight I will do it again. I'll work on building stamina after I work on staying true to my word. Baby steps.

At The Root

At the base of every problem is a root. In order to solve any problem you must begin at the root.


After further assessment, I question if  my NES stems from a need for comfort, body image issues or both.


My symptoms of NES started around the age of 8. I lost the desire to eat breakfast. On occasion I skipped lunch or only ate a bag of chips. Food became a source of comfort, but comfort was not necessary in the light of day, at least when away from home. This development is perceived as a normal development because comfort was always associated with oral stimulation (mouthing). Chewing on fingers and toes developed into chewing rubber objects and crayons. Later I began eating soap during bath time. A feeling of euphoria came over me as I chewed and swallowed the soft salty soap. It was a welcomed feeling before bed.


I am the product of unfortunate parenting. I laugh at myself when I say that out loud. I am the product of many unfortunate things. There was little to no affection in my home. Seldom an 'I love you' or hug. Touch no longer welcomed became something forced by the hand of my dad. Comfort came in the midnight hour. When it's late and the house dark and quiet. I'd sneak into the kitchen to steal food, usually something sweet, but if all else failed I'd grab 3-4 slices of bread and wad them together. If time allowed I'd spread a little butter between each slice before wadding. It started out as a weekend thing. Mom and Dad closed their bedroom door on Saturday nights. I'd wait patiently. Never curious to know what happened behind the closed door. I only saw this as a grand opportunity to feed my need for comfort.


It didn't take long before I began seeking late  night feeds during the week. It was more difficult. I'd often fall asleep waiting for an opportunity to score more comfort. There were opportunities to get food during the day. I just need to get my hands on a little money. I started steeling money from my parents so I could sneak to the bakery after school. It was just around the corner. Mom was always late picking me up which gave me ample time. I was in the 5th grade when I started hording food.


On occasions when dad was supposed to pick me up but forgot, I would go to the bakery and pizzeria. I'd order a small pizza and eat the entire thing before calling home for a ride. I can't understand mom never called the school to check on me when dad forgot me. Hours would go by and nothing. I'd always have to call her and then she'd send a cab. Isn't that odd? None of the other children were forgotten.


As I assess my past, more memories become clear and mix with the old. When I share my memories you may read some more than once. Please accept my apologies for being redundant at times.


At the age of 10 I was introduced to dieting. Endless deprivation, counting calories and measuring portions. My parents loved desert after meals. They'd eat them while I watched. At the start of each day I had to stand on the scale with both parents standing over me. It was a shame filled start to the day. Depending on how the scales tipped I might even get a beating before school.


The weight of the burden of bearing so many flaws was getting heavier and heavier. So was I.


I had to sooth my conscious and unconscious mind. It is there where the demons dwell. In the mind is where all things negative fester and develop into addictions and disorders.


I need to take a break from the memories. We can talk about this again later.


At 11:37am I had one pack of peanut butter crackers and water. There were no hunger sensations today. Lunch was at 3:48pm. I had 4 scrambled eggs with chicken, two slices of wheat bread and water. It is now 10:35pm, I have not eaten dinner yet.

They Them Us Me

I want to share a poem with you. I wrote it last year. It gives way to a small measure of pain that emerged one night, very late. I didn't realize the pain was mine until I read the finished poem.


In the body of the poem you will see text in different colors. Each color represents a particular person/character. I will describe each person/character, so you can get a feel for the depth of this poem. It is difficult to translate feelings when done on paper. I will do my best to convey those feelings to you.


I am in the process of recording this poem. I've taken it to the studio once already, but a few of the character voices did not go well. My plan is to take it to the studio one more time and pray that everything falls into place.


Here are the characters of the poem:


Grey - shadowy dark evil male - heavy raspy voice
Dark Blue - friend or family member
Light Blue - shadowy evil female - soft hissing voice
Orange - Little girl 2 or 3 years old


I hope that you are able to imagine the voices while reading this poem.

They…Them…Us…Me

   

What’s that noise?

What noise?

Nevermind.

Where is it?

Find it!

 

Here I am.

 

It must be stopped…

Destroyed.

You want to destroy it?

Find it.

Wait!

 

There it is…

It?! Don’t you mean who?

Who?

Yes…

A little girl,

Girl…

Over there.

Where?

There…

 

Here.

 

Can you hear her?

No…

Can’t you hear?

No…

Listen…

NO!!!

 

We’ll destroy it.

Why?

We loathe it.

Why?

Not perfect.

 

Tear it apart.

Put it together.

Is she alive?

No…not really.

 

Yes I am.

 

Look at it!

Hideous, monstrous…grotesque,

A real life Frankenstein.

People will run and scream.

Don’t say that…she’s beautiful.

 

Retched!

Imperfect!

Undesirable…Unforgivably…Useless!

Worthless!

Abomination!

 

Not good enough.

Not like us.

Send it back.

Back to where?

We don’t care!

 

 You can have it.

But she’s yours.

We don’t want it.

But she’s here.

No it isn’t.

 

I am here.

 

We’ll get another.

Let her stay.

It’ll be better.

She’ll be good…I know she will.

We don’t want it.

 

Mommy…daddy? (echo)

March 2, 2014

I'd like to begin by thanking the Lord Jesus Christ for giving me this day. This is truly a day that the Lord has made. In this day I will suffer memories of my past and some form of the emotions that will accompany these memories. I will work to keep my promises to myself. Eating healthy and in healthy increments is a constant struggle. I know the Lord will help me. I just need to make the effort. Today is going to be a good. I does not matter how much I hurt today, because I will come out on the other side having gained something.


Success! It is 11:50am and I am eating breakfast while I write this post. Today I am having scrambled egg with a little bit of carrots, broccoli and cheese mixed in. There will be no coffee or toast today. The earlier I eat the less I can consume. Baby steps.


I probably shouldn't be multi-tasking right now. I know...I need a bit of a distraction sometimes to help get my mind off the fact that I am eating. Which is probably the exact opposite of what I should be doing. For now, it's working, so I forge forward. Even though I'm keeping my word and making every effort to start eating on or before noon, I still don't have any desire to eat. I've had a little water with my medicines this morning and I will make a point to drink water throughout the day. I try to get a glass of water almost every time I go to the kitchen. I do feel the sensation of thirst periodically, which in an improvement. I've yet to feel physical hunger sensations. So eating is more of a forced action than a reaction to a need. At least I'm eating before the bewitching hour of 4pm.


I don't think lunch will happen today. It hasn't for some time. My usual eating routine, when in binge mode, starts with eating around 4pm, cooking dinner between 6-8pm, eating again between 8-9pm and then my snack around 1-2am. This routine is what has developed so far out of 4 years of working on this disorder. When not in binge mode and feeling stronger, I am able to begin eating around 10am, having a desire to do so which is what sets these two modes apart. Lunch is around 12:30-1pm. I'll have a small snack like peanut butter and crackers around 3-3:30pm and start dinner around 4-4:30pm. Dinner would be served about 6-6:30. A late night snack is usually prepared, but seldom eaten during better times.


Remember how wonderful I felt yesterday? Well, today I woke up with my internal voices nagging at me. You know, those voice that play over and over in your head like a broken record. Voice from the past telling you that you're not good enough...you're not smart enough. That's what I'm dealing with today. It's as if I'm not allowed to be happy. My mind fills with negative thoughts reminiscent of the abusive treatment received from my parents. Whenever I was happy they would do something, say something or allow something to take away my happiness. There were only brief moments of happiness on the occasion they got everything they wanted out of me, which was rare. Whatever they got from me was usually never enough.
I was eight or nine, when my mother came into my room and began beating me while I was slept. She whaled on me for a long time, until she was out of breath. Once she was able to compose herself, she told me to get up and go to the kitchen. When I got to the kitchen, she picked up a fork and waved it in my face, yelling and screaming at me for putting the fork in the drying rack with a speck of food on it. The beating began again and then she ordered me to re-wash all of the dishes. Memories like that and much worse haunt me daily. It's no wonder I turned to food for comfort. Comfort was scarce and food never hurt me.
Enough with the memories for now. I've finished my breakfast and I'm feeling good about eating a meal before 1pm. Dinner will be collard greens, candied yams and turkey ham.

I Get So Frustrated!!!!!

Writing about myself is one of the hardest things I've ever tried to do. Yet I can't stop trying. I need to get my words out, if for no one other than myself. I get so frustrated when reading others blogs. I love to read them and enjoy the content of their posts, but I find myself getting lost in envy over their fluidity of total expression. I wonder, do they struggle like I do? Do they sit at a little wooden desk and fret for countless days, months and hours...agonizing over every word, writing and re-writing...walking away and returning? Whenever I'm not in front of my computer I feel like I am about to burst at the seems. There is so much that wants to come out. Why is it so hard?!

Just when I think that I've figured it all out and am ready to open up the flood gates I go dry again. Where is inspiration? Isn't it enough to live the story that I want to tell? My words feel emotionless and sterile. Yes, that would best describe it. Perhaps I'm trying to hard. Perhaps it just me and my disconnection to life. My mind won't allow me to feel the fullness of my emotions. I guess it would be too much. Maybe I should just close my eyes and breathe... All I can see are words floating around in space...taunting me...haunting me. Memories flash before my eyes, yet I still feel nothing. I think I want to cry and scream, but I can't. There's nothing there...

I looked into the mirror once and saw a women mentally bludgeoned. I've been violated in every possible way. My spirit battered, broken and left for dead. My girth increasing and decreasing...increasing and decreasing...increasing and decreasing... I am OBESE!! I am UGLY!! I am UNWANTED!! I am UNLOVABLE!! There's no escape. I'm going crazy, I need to release. Please God help me!!!!

I can walk through a house of mirrors and never see my own reflection. Conditioned to ignore the obvious. I live an illusion. I always have. Where there should have been love...there was none. Where there should have been protection...there was none. Where there should have been comfort...there was none. Where there should have been laughter, joy, fun, adventure...there was none. I have been imprisoned by life, my parents, my conditions and even my own mind... Flawed from head to toe...inside and out. I am queen of the misfits...discarded like a broke Christmas ornament. I want to see beauty, but I can't. I know beauty lives inside. I want to be beautiful on the outside. I can't see myself because I don't want to. I don't want to face the ugly truth. My friends, they tell me I'm beautiful, but they are just being kind.

I crawl out of my hole and begin to pick up the pieces. I try to make sense of what's left of my life. I put on the face of strength for my child. I don't want him to see me broken even though he already knows that I am. You see, he knows first hand the pain that is mine. When he was a toddler we used to visit my parents on the weekends. It would take most of the day for me to manage the thought... Hours of crying and vomiting and then slowing getting ready to face the beast. My dad, never satisfied, would always criticize me. One day it had gotten so bad that my precious little one ran over to me, jumped onto my lap and wrapped his arms around my neck...screaming and crying. He turned to look at my dad as if to say...leave my mommy alone. I hugged and kissed him and told him it was okay. We went home. There were many occasions like this, but I dare not miss a weekend. My parents insisted that we break bread together every Saturday. My mother still presenting the face of perfection. Still perpetuating the lie. Will it ever stop?

My parents are gone now. Would it be wrong for me to say that I am grateful? Should I feel guilty for feeling this way? My son can since that I am still haunted by my past. It is on those days that he hugs me and rubs my face to ensure me that it's okay. I look at him in think how precious he is. He is perfect. He will never know the beatings, ridicule, disconnection, blame and hate that I endured. If only I too had been so precious to my parents.

I relish the joy and peace that we have in our home. My son will never have to question if he is loved. He will never feel the pain I felt. I thank God for that. I thank God that he made me strong enough to break the curse. I thank God for the blessing of my son and the gift of motherhood. Thank you God for showing me what parenting should be... How love should feel... What peace is...

It is because of my love for my son and my quest for healing that I take this journey. I want my son to have the absolute best of me. I want to be free. Not stuffing my pain, but releasing and letting it go...completely. That is my goal. And I will achieve this even if it takes me one letter at a time...

Food: A Link between Discomfort and Dysfunction

Many disorders are born out of dysfunction.

I grew up in a highly dysfunctional family. I'm sure you've heard stories like this before. I was trapped in the middle of my father's absolute control and my mother's need for perfection. An illusion forced upon the meek. On the other side of the door was our audience. No one knew the happenings behind the closed door. No one except a cousin who occasionally saw more than she bargained for.

My parents were entrepreneurs. They owned a barber shop and a convenience store. Dad worked and mom was a homemaker. We had two cars, but only one worked at any given time. My mom in her eternal quest for perfection, would wash and shine both cars so they looked brand new. It didn't matter that her car wasn't drivable as long as it looked good. It was perfectly acceptable that there was no leaving the house without permission. Mom would lobby for cab fair whenever she needed to run errands. She was allotted a small of time to get everything done. There was always a mad dash to clean the house, which was never dirty, run the errands and have dinner ready before dad came home...and then we'd wait. Dinner was never to be served before dad's arrival. Sometimes we'd have to wait for hours.

In the beginning...

Around the age of ten life took another terrible turn. It was at a routine well check where I was deemed obese. A word I had never heard before, but knew it was something bad. I weighed in at 101 pounds. Nothing much was said that day. A few days later a new routine was set. Get up, get ready for school, step on the scale and then breakfast. If a pound or two was gained that potentially earned me a beating before school. If that was the case, mom would apply alcohol and salves to the whelps and cuts, then have me change into long sleeves if necessary.

Meal portions were dramatically shrunken. I was always being hungry. Every evening, my parents would enjoy having desert after dinner. For obvious reasons, I was denied this privilege, but had to remain seated at the table until dinner was done. On weekends dad would bring candy, soda, cakes and chips home from our store. It was a welcomed treat.

An opportunity has arisen. My parent's room was right next to mine. On Saturday nights they'd close the door. Late night in the quiet of dark I'd sneak to the kitchen to steal treats. I had to be fast and always have an alternate plan should one of my parents come out of their room unexpected. There were many areas between the kitchen and my room where I could quickly stash the goods and act as if I had gotten up for a glass of water. Sometimes I'd say a quick prayer in hopes that they not find my wares before going back to bed. A binging hoarder in the making and my hoard...food.

My focus on the consumption food became one of the links between heightened levels of discomfort and dysfunction.

Food is now my enemy and my friend...my fixation.

Where do I begin?

A few years ago I was forced to make some hard decisions about my eating disorder, Night Eating Syndrome (NES).

At present time NES is not in the DSM IV/V.

The three main components identifying NES are Morning Anorexia, Night Binging and Insomnia. There is hope for us. Binge Eating Disorder recently added to the DSM-V under (EDNOS) Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified has given way to the possibility of two new additions to the DSM-V, Purging Disorder and NES.

I have been ignoring NES for 25 years. Three years ago my health took a turn for the worse. It quickly became evident that I needed to change my ways or else I would surely die. So I claimed my dirty little secret, frequent night time binges, and began looking into steps I could take to make positive life changes.

First steps toward recovery:

Acknowledge having an eating disorder.
Increase awareness of my own eating patterns. Note how I feel before/during and after meal times.
Identify possible beginning of NES behaviors.
Assess feelings, emotional state and reasoning behind late night eating.
Contact Psychologist to begin work on underlying issues.

No matter if you binged last week, last night or just a few minutes ago, it's not too late to get on the road to recovery.

 

 

Related Articles:

 

Night Eating Syndrome: Should it be Included in the DSM-V 

http://www.psychotherapybrownbag.com/psychotherapy_brown_bag_a/2009/10/night-eating-syndrome-should-it-be-included-in-dsmv.html

 



Night Eating Disorder
http://www.allianceforeatingdisorders.com/night-eating-syndrome

Issues for DSM-V: Night Eating Syndrome
http://ajp.psychiatryonline.org/article.aspx?articleID=99701

What is Night Eating Syndrome?

Night eating syndrome, or NES, also "midnight hunger", is an emerging eating disorder diagnosis, which primarily characterizes an ongoing, persistent pattern of late-night binge eating.^[1][2] NES was originally described by Dr Albert Stunkard in 1955^[3] and is currently proposed for inclusion in the next edition of the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders.^[4] The diagnosis is controversial; its validity and clinical utility have been questioned^[5] and there are currently no official diagnostic criteria. - Wikipedia.com

More information on the Characteristics of NES
http://jama.jamanetwork.com/article.aspx?articleid=191250

There are several night time eating disorders listed in varying resources. So while looking up more information you may want to check into these...

Nocturnal Hyperphagia
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kleine%E2%80%93Levin_syndrome

Nocturnal Eating Disorder
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nocturnal_sleep-related_eating_disorder

Parasomia (SRED) Sleep Related Eating Disorder (also linked to NED)
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Parasomnia

EDNOS Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified

Exert from http://www.eatingdisordersonline.com/explain/ednos.php

According to the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual, 4th Edition there exists a category of eating disorders that do not meet the specific criteria for the two defined disorders, Anorexia Nervosa and Bulimia. When people exhibit behaviors in the spectrum of disordered eating but do not meet all the criteria for Anorexia Nervosa or Bulimia, they are given a diagnosis of an Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified (EDNOS). Over one-half to two-thirds of people diagnosed with eating disorders fall into the category of EDNOS. More people are diagnosed with EDNOS than Anorexia Nervosa and Bulimia combined.

Binge Eating Disorder (BED) is the only type of eating disorder under the category of EDNOS. A person meets the definition of having EDNOS if they have exhibit all the criteria for Anorexia Nervosa but have regular menstruation or a normal body weight, or if they exhibit all the criteria for Bulimia but purge less than two times per week or for a duration shorter than three months, or if only small amounts of food are purged, or if a person spits out food rather than swallowing it.

People diagnosed with EDNOS can experience the same negative psychological, social, and physical consequences as a person diagnosed with Anorexia Nervosa or Bulimia. The seriousness of their condition is no different than that for people diagnosed with specific disorders. The only difference is that the person may experience a spectrum of disordered eating behaviors and these behaviors may change over time.

Although BED is the only one of the types of eating disorders categorized under EDNOS, people who are considered to have Sub Therapeutic Anorexia Nervosa or Sub Therapeutic Bulimia are also given a diagnosis of EDNOS. To have Sub Therapeutic Anorexia Nervosa or Bulimia means that a person displays some but not all of the criteria for the full-blown condition.

Read more about EDNOS

Huffington Post
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2013/01/04/eating-disorders-ednos-dsm-5_n_2398373.html

Wikipedia.com
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eating_disorder_not_otherwise_specified


Educate yourself

It's going to take some time before NES enters the realm of legitimized eating disorders. In the meantime you will need to education yourself on the subject and take carful not of your relationship with food.

Have your information handy when approaching medical professionals for help. NES is not commonly known or spoken off in general medicine. If your medical professional is not familiar with the term Night Eating Syndrome, you may want to try a couple of the other terms listed with exception the EDNOS which umbrellas only one eating disorder, Binge Eating in the DSM-IV/V.

My Experience

A seemingly lack of interest of the subject has been my experience with medical professionals. Though my concerns duly noted, they are still unaddressed. There is no definitive diagnosis so it is simply put into my file as a general note.

Medical professionals can be rather harsh when dealing with weight related issues. They don't understand for many, "obesity" is a band aid for internalized emotional scars. A self made barrier of protection. Obvious distain for one's heaviness and harsh words do not help the situation.

NES is very real and can be a debilitating disorder. I have lived with NES for 28 years and it has taken me until 3 years ago to figure out ways and strategies to begin helping myself.

I strongly recommend seeking council to help with this process. NES has a root and one of the ways to combat any problem is to find the root source. Having a psychologist to help you strategies your way back to a healthy relationship with food is key.

More Reading Materials about NES

Overcoming Night Eating Syndrome: A Step-By-Step Guide To Breaking The Cycle
by, Kelly C. Allison, PH.D., Albert J. Stunkard, MD, with Sara L. Their

Night Eating Syndrome
by Frederic P. Miller (Editor), Agnes F. Vandome (Editor), John McBrewster (Editor)

Night Eating Syndrome
Research, Assessment, and Treatment
Edited by Jennifer D. Lundgren, Kelly C. Allison, Albert J. Stunkard