Monday, May 10, 2010

This is an excellently written entry from a co-Medifaster's blog. I am reposting it here, without her permission. If she finds out, she can ask me to remove it. Otherwise, it has some really good insight and I wanted to remember it for myself without having to find it again on her blog.

For one day in my life, I’d like to wake up & not have to worry about food. What to eat, how much to eat, when to eat. For one day in my life, dear Lord, I’d like to not care about food. I’d like to stop thinking about it. Asking myself the ‘should I’ ‘shouldn’t I’ questions that come with the territory in maintenance. At least those questions were eliminated during 5/1….lack of choice is very liberating. While I do have a food plan now in maintenance, there is still too much room for choice. Choice leads to making decisions which leads to obsessions.

I wish I could swallow a black pill a few times a day & stop having to deal with food. Forever. I could be happy never having to deal with the damn stuff again for the remainder of my days on earth.

I wonder what it feels like NOT to obsess over food? It must be a wonderful thing. I wouldn’t know, you see, since I’ve been obsessed with food since childhood. It was my friend, my family, my ‘real’ mother, my sisters & brothers, my friends & something I did to keep myself occupied. Food was always there when others weren’t. When the fighting was going on in the house, the food didn’t scare me like the grown ups did. The food never threatened to run away & never come home again. The food was a constant reassurance to me… was solid, it was enjoyable, it didn’t cause me pain….it made me feel GOOD when little else did.

Until, of course, that good feeling turned bad…as any addictive behavior eventually does. When the pain of the overeating outweighed the pain I was trying to avoid, that’s when I started the diets. The endless, endless diets. That’s when I started the yo-yo cycle that would probably follow me straight to the grave.

Sometimes I wonder why I bother. Sometimes I think it’s easier to eat what I want, when I want it. Then I remember the horrible pain & shame all that excess food caused me. Now I see the pain I cause myself from the food restriction & I can’t help but wonder. Which pain is worse? Oh, I know the answer to that…..the pain of compulsive overeating is far worse than any pain I cause myself from restricting my food intake. It’s just gets so damn tiresome. Sometimes I feel like staying in bed with the covers pulled up over my head & just cry.

Most days are good, some days not so good. All in all, life is fine & it’s all ok. But some days….some days are toooooo much. Some days I want to go back to being fat & ‘safe’. Some days I just want to scream bloody murder & say WHY ME? Some days I feel sorry for myself. Other days I feel like the luckiest person on earth. And some days are in-between those two feelings.

Sometimes I don’t want to deal with food plans, programs, websites, jobs, kids, husbands, families, cars, traffic, clothes, housework, friends. Sometimes I just want to feel numb. Isn’t that what turned me into a compulsive overeater to begin with? The desire to feel NOTHING? The trouble with feeling nothing is I don’t feel joy OR sorrow, just nothingness.

I guess there is no happy medium in life. If there is, I’m still trying to find it. Some days are better than others. Some days I am convinced I’m A-ok & other days I am convinced I can’t go on for another SECOND with all this crap. But I do. I still wake up & perform my routine like a good little soldier. Sometimes I’m sick to death of it all though. Sick & tired is a gross understatement in fact.

I know why people regain their weight. In fact, I know why I gained all MY weight back over & over again. Because it’s a lot of hard work to stay the course. The mental work is even harder than the physical work. I’d like to give my brain a rest & some days, it does rest. Then along come the days where my brain is working overtime & getting nowhere. Like a rat running in a wheel.

What a torture chamber this journey can truly BE. With other addictive substances, once the person is through the worst of the process, he is DONE with the drug, it’s gone & finished. It’s the exact opposite with food. It’s always there. It’s always in my face. It’s always a decision. It’s always a necessity. And it’s always always always a gigantic pain in the ass.

I give others lots of support & words of ‘wisdom’. But sometimes I feel like chucking the whole damn program & going back to my old ways. I recognize the ups & downs of the disease, I know that intellectually. But sometimes emotionally, it’s all too much.

Do you ever wonder what you’re DOING? Or why you’re doing this AGAIN? Or, worse yet…do you ask yourself What’s The Point?