Friday, January 9, 2015

Depression

I’ve been suffering from depression for quite a while, but some days I feel like my depression is over the edge. Like I could fall off and never return. Depression hurts like no pain that anyone has ever felt. I’ve even entertained the thought of dying.

I haven’t seen my sister since my father died 6 years ago. In most of those 7 years we’ve had a pretty strained relationship and barely spoke to one another, but our relationship has gotten better. She has her family and her life so she’s happy. My niece was 10 years the last time I saw her, now she’s 18 and calls me on the phone several times a week to tell me what’s she’s up to. I enjoy our conversations, because I’m getting to know her, but she’s not getting the full benefit of who her aunt really is because of my depression. I don’t want her to see the side of me that I’ve become so I fake it. I don’t even laugh anymore. Which brings me to to why I’m feeling exceptionally depressed today.

My niece is going to New York with a group from school and my sister is going with her. From the way it was explained to me, they can basically do what they want while there, so I thought if that’s the case, I could take the train and we can spend a day together. Yesterday I got the train schedule and look at hotel prices and was ready to make my reservations when I got a phone call from my sister telling me they will have so much to do with the school and she doesn’t know if there will be any time to spend together, but I’m still free to go if I want.

What?

I called my sister last night, she wasn’t home and spoke with my niece who read the itinerary to me. She said, we can have dinner between 8 and 9:30pm. Why would I go at this point? To spend money on the ride there, just to sit in a hotel room, not see my sister and niece and go home the next day?

So it looks like I’m staying home now, and once again I’ll have nothing to look forward to.

On a positive note, when I found out the news last night and made my decision not to go to New York, I didn’t eat. I made myself a drink, but only drank half of it. I planned to take a sleeping pill because I knew after hearing the news I would be up all night walking the floors. I didn’t want to mix alcohol with ambien. So I didn’t use food as a crutch, that’s a good thing.

It seems lately whenever something is planned with friends, it falls through. I was supposed to to Cape Cod for a Fall weekend getway with friends. I looked forward to this for weeks and the week before one of the girls realized she had something else to do and plans fell through.

Today, as I sit here looking at the snow falling outside my window, ending my life seems very tempting, but I won't do it.

Maybe I just need to find new friends.

Tuesday, January 6, 2015

My Empty Holes

One of the reasons why I self medicate with food is because food fills all those empty holes in my body. The holes that make me anxious, sad, depressed, lonely and happy. Those are the holes that need to be fixed by me and need some TLC from me. The problem is I know where some of those holes are and I know why they exist, but the rest are just too confusing. Someone once told me to start with loving myself. How does one begin to love themselves? To me love is food. When I was a child, my mother would give me something to eat to make me feel better, so naturally I associate food with love and happiness. She didn't know any better. No one gets directions on how to raise children or be a mother.

My mother grew up during the second world war in Europe. When she was 7 years old, the German Army bombed her village. She was with her mother (my grandmother) when it happened. My grandmother, in an effort to protect her from shrapnel or from being killed threw herself on top of my mother. These were times of war. Food was scarce, electricity was rationed, fear was everywhere. My father was from an adjacent town, and his mother hid him deep in the mountains in a cave. Nonna told me the Germans came into town looking for young men to recruit for Hitler Youth Camps. My grandmother had already lost her husband and was raising a family of 3 children (one adopted) on her own. She wasn't about to lose her son.

Both parents grew up in poverty, so when they got married and came to the US, life's necessities were at their fingertips. They worked hard, made money, socked some of it away and lived within their means. They had children who, unlike them, were well fed. Having slightly chubby kids was a sign of status. It meant the family was doing well. I wonder if that's where my addiction began? I don't eat them anymore, but when I was a child I loved cold cuts. My dad would come home with the groceries on Saturday nights. Among those groceries was a fresh loaf of bread and freshly sliced Italian cold cuts. Either I or my mother would make a sandwich of mortadella, salami and prosciutto (I disliked cheese) on freshly baked bread. I remember scoffing the sandwich down. The salty, greasy, spicy goodness sliding down my throat to fill my already filled tummy. You see, my dad would go shopping on Saturday nights after dinner. I had no reason to be hungry, I just wanted to taste the sandwich. Why? I don't know. I just know I wanted it.

Were the holes starting then? What was missing in my life when I was 7 or 8 years old? Yes, I was a little chubby and yes some kids did tease me about it. I remember my 4th grade teacher asking me to go to the board and complete a long division equasion. I couldn't do it. My mind went completely blank. She bullied and humiliated me in front of the class. When that wouldn't work she sent me to the principal's office with a note. I read the note on the way there. It said something like, "Nica weighs 100 pounds and cannot do math equasions." It hurt that she used my weight against me. I couldn't understand my feelings at the time so I may have just buried them deep inside me. I wonder if that's when my addiction started?

From Psychology today:

"Addiction is a condition that results when a person ingests a substance (e.g., alcohol, cocaine, nicotine) or engages in an activity (e.g., gambling, sex, shopping) that can be pleasurable but the continued use/act of which becomes compulsive and interferes with ordinary life responsibilities, such as work, relationships, or health. Users may not be aware that their behavior is out of control and causing problems for themselves and others.

The word addiction is used in several different ways. One definition describes physical addiction. This is a biological state in which the body adapts to the presence of a drug so that drug no longer has the same effect, otherwise known as a tolerance. Because of tolerance, the biological reaction of withdrawal occurs the drug is discontinued. Another form of physical addiction is the phenomenon of overreaction by the brain to drugs (or to cues associated with the drugs). An alcoholic walking into a bar, for instance, will feel an extra pull to have a drink because of these cues.

The most addictive behavior is not related to either physical tolerance or exposure to cues. People compulsively use drugs, gamble, or shop nearly always in reaction to being emotionally stressed, whether or not they have a physical addiction. Since these psychologically based addictions are not based on drug or brain effects, they can account for why people frequently switch addictive actions from one drug to a completely different kind of drug, or even to a non-drug behavior. The focus of the addiction isn't what matters; it's the need to take action under certain kinds of stress. Treating this kind of addiction requires an understanding of how it works psychologically.

When referring to any kind of addiction, it is important to recognize that its cause is not simply a search for pleasure and that addiction has nothing to do with one's morality or strength of character. Experts debate whether addiction is a "disease" or a true mental illness, whether drug dependence and addiction mean the same thing, and many other aspects of addiction. Such debates are not likely to be resolved soon. But the lack of resolution does not preclude effective treatment."

Yes, I eat/self medicate for pleasure. It satisfies the pleasure center in my brain. How do I kill that?

works cited: http://www.psychologytoday.com/basics/addiction

Monday, January 5, 2015

Food Triggers

Today I was thinking of food triggers.

I have certain triggers that set off my food addiction. I can’t have crackers in the house, because they lead to cheese and more crackers, or they just all end up in my mouth if they’re salty and tasty enough. One or a few crackers are not enough because once I get started, I go into some kind of trance. It's the only way I can describe it. It feels as if I've left my body and something else is controlling my mind. Whatever is controlling my mind is causing me to put too much food into my mouth. I'm not satisfied with a few crackers or the suggested serving, I have to eat them until I'm full; sometimes overly full to the point where I'm sick. Also, I can’t have candy of any kind in the house. You know those little Cadbury eggs that come out at Easter time and gummy bears? I have been known to eat an entire large bag in one day! I keep these things out of the house on purpose.

Out of sight, out of mind. I don’t crave them, but if I see them while I'm out, I begin to have a mental conversation with myself. It usually starts off with, “I can control it, it’s alright.” Then it becomes, “you fool, you can’t control it, you’ll have the bag scoffed up by evening and you’ll be complaining about how sick you feel the whole next day!” My behavior is very similar to that of an alcoholic or substance abuser. It sucks. The conversations in my mmind go back and forth, up and down and all around. It becomes a whirlwind of conversations that eventually turn into so much noise, I just give in. I lose. My psych told me to make peace with the triggers. Tell them, they’ve served their purpose but are not useful to me anymore. I guess that can work if I really want it to, but something inside me continuously wants me to fail and give in. And I do.

I don't know how this addiction began or where it came from. I could go back and blame my parents, my bad marriage, events that happened in my life, but in reality, those are all just catalysts. I'm the one with the addiction, I'm the one who can't stop hurting myself. And that's what it all comes down to. WHY AM I HURTING MYSELF?? What happened to me that I have to constantly punish myself by making myself sick?

Something to think about.

Yesterday, I made myself one of those healthy smoothie drinks for lunch. In a blender, I added some frozen peaches, half a banana, about a half cup of cooked, frozen kale, some almond milk, water and a half serving of protein powder. It was so good, I sucked it up through a straw, and by the time I realized it was gone, I wanted more. I drank it too fast and I was mad at myself for doing so.

About an hour or so later, I took a nap. 20 minutes into the nap, I woke up with the worst acid reflux I've had in quite some time. It felt like a cold, steel sword coming up from the bowels of hell cutting my esophagus on the way up and laughing as I suffered from the burn. I began to cough as some of it had reached into my throat. I drank a huge glass of water, but it still burned. The burning wouldn't stop. I took two good swigs of Maalox and it only burned more. I didn't know what to do, but I thought about something that would coat and soothe. I thought about how people who eat hot, spicy peppers drink milk afterwards to stop the burn, so I poured a tiny bit of milk into a cup and drank it. It felt good going down and the burning stopped. I don't drink milk, in fact, I despise milk, but I'm glad it was in the house.

In looking up some of the causes for acid reflux, I noticed I had a few. One was obesity, that's me! The other was eating too fast and drinking liquids while eating. I remember being told after my sleeve surgery, to not drink with meals, and if I had to, to take small sips. Naturally, I ignored it because I figured if I drank water it would fill me up. It does, but it distends the stomach and water empties out pretty quickly leaving one hungry mere minutes later. Today, I was cognizant of what I ate and paced myself while eating. I have to keep doing this.

xo

Thursday, January 1, 2015

It starts with the Food Hangover

Hi Everyone,

Today, being the first day of a new year, I woke up with a food hangover. It's that sick feeling where your stomach feels like a cat was trying to claw it's way out, succeeded and vomited all at once. I needed coffee this morning because it's the only thing that helps when I've got that sour food hangover tummy.

I stay home on New Year's Eve. I don't mind it. I've been doing it for well over 25 years. We usually have something fun to eat, watch funny movies toast with sparkling apple cider at midnight, then we both crash. Last night I made nachos. We haven't eaten nachos in several years. I had a little bit of leftover chili in the freezer,a package of shredded cheddar and a bag of blue corn tortilla chips. I put them all in an oven proof plate and baked until everything was melty. It all went down nicely with a tall glass of spiced rum and coke. Last night all bets were off. I felt comfortable giving into my addiction because I felt it was an occasion where I could. I shared the evening with the husband, but had my own little "addiction" party going on in my head. I ate until I was sick, but never crossed the line where I would physically get sick. The way my addiction works is by indulging with just enough to bring myself to the edge, then I take a break, mainly until the nausea wears off. When that happens I continue and repeat. Before I went to bed, I took a few good swigs of Maalox.

This morning when I woke up, naturally the first thought on my mind was breakfast. However, I did something new this morning. I fed the cats first, then I made coffee, washed a few dishes left in the sink, fed the birds outside, and then I thought of breakfast again. I baked a loaf of fresh spelt bread the day before. I cut myself a skinny slice, toasted it and fried an egg in spray coconut oil (like Pam). By the time I was done, the coffee was ready. I didn't feel bad about eating the bread because it was spelt, not white and I wasn't about to make it my fall off the wagon reason. I can't worry about carbs right now.

Right before lunch I ate a cup of mixed grapefruit and orange, then attempted to eat lunch. I was still doing well and not thinking of food. In fact, I went the rest of the day without falling off the wagon. I ate 3 meals, 2 snacks and began cleaning out my study. By the time I thought of food again it was 15 minutes to 11pm and too late to shove anything into my mouth, so I went to bed.

I'm in bed right now writing.

Today was a good day. Tomorrow I'm meeting an old friend for lunch at an Italian restaurant. I'm not sure what to do, but I'll try not setting myself up for failure. It's all I can do for the moment.

I also had a passing thought tonight that I might try to see someone who specializes in food addictions.

Good night.