So much to write about that I don’t know where to begin. I have made some fantastic progress with my thinking and the reality about eating and food lately. I have been focusing on the real cause of my disordered eating and when I do that, the actual eating disorder becomes less of an issue. Weird, but helpful.
I have somehow (thank God) stumbled onto The F*%# It Diet. And. It. Is. Brilliant.
For the past few weeks I have been actually listening to my body. And hearing what it is telling me. And responding appropriately. Like waking up at 3am absolutely ravenous, and eating. I remembered when I was pregnant if I woke up through the night hungry I would, without thinking, get up and eat something to nourish my babies. No questions asked. No guilt or shame. And I should deserve the same. After an hour of wrestling with my weakness for being so hungry and with support of TFIDers from across the globe I, for the first time in I’m not sure how many years (I’m guessing less than 9, cos that’s how old Tim nearly is) got up, opened the fridge and just grabbed what I felt like eating – leftover chicken and some pineapple. And when I finished it I was still hungry so I ate some toast with BUTTER. TWO PIECES! And I was still hungry! This was a killer. But I ate some more (muesli). And ever since then I have been more attuned with my body’s hunger and appetite. Eating what she wants mostly when she wants it. And you know the crazy thing? I haven’t been eating all day every day til I eat the whole world. My biggest craving at first was toasted Turkish pide bread with a lot of butter. And I ate it. ENJOYING every salty, greasy, crispy mouthful. I’m over that now.
This past week I have been craving cheesecake. CHEESECAKE. Not some frozen mass-produced grossness. Good old fashioned 1970s Women’s Weekly classic passionfruit cheesecake. This was harder to give in to. Mostly because the ingredients are not something readily to hand, and I didn’t want a whole cheesecake. My dietitian challenged me to find a piece or make a piece (Tony offered his support in any way he could) and eat it. And not even an hour later, Tony and I were having a coffee in a cafe and I deliberately looked in the CAKES to see if they had something. I didn’t avert my eyes from the obscenity of CAKE as I got that ole familiar whoosh-of-dizzy-sickness-RUN-AWAY-no-seriously-run-for-your-life feeling. I calmly evaluated their choices and saw it. And ordered it with our coffees. A single slice of house-made passionfruit and blueberry cheesecake. No cream or ice cream, though. Baby steps. And then I ate it! right there in the cafe! And I enjoyed every single mouthful. Except the two or three Tony had. The real win is that I still don’t feel guilty for choosing to eat for the sheer pleasure of it.
I have a lot of work to do regarding the underlying reasons for my desire for control. And I have to find a new psychiatrist as mine has left, which sucks. But I’m definitely getting somewhere. It’s a new day, the sun will shine, maybe, and I’m infantile-ly poking my tongue out at her because:
Gloria is not me.
I don’t usually take photos of my food but I thought this was worth documenting.