The Fear of Failure

I honestly believe that a bit of fear can be a healthy motivator. But, at what point does that fear become a problem?  At what point does the fear invade all your thoughts, take over your rational thought process, and become the norm? I just might be at, or at least rapidly approaching, that point.

My clean eating lifestyle experiment is going really well. I might be more than a bit obsessive, but I feel great and I've dropped another five pounds. I've hit the gym hard and am lifting the "heavy weights", so I like to tell myself that I'd be down a few more pounds but that I'm building solid muscle. (In case you haven't noticed, I like to "tell myself" things quite a bit. I have this amazing/terrible ability to rationalize just about anything. Ask yourself, "WWVD? What would Vera do?" With my irrational ability to rationalize, you can essentially do whatever you want. It's both a blessing and a curse, but mainly a curse. Oops.)

Even with my new healthy habits becoming a lifestyle rather than a diet, I still let the fear of fat and failure drive me to freak out, follow "my rules" too well, binge, purge, hate myself, and do it all over again. I am terrified not only of being fat again, but also of still being fat. I'm scared that I've gone through all this, worked so hard, and that this is as thin as I'll get. I can't consider myself a true success if I'm still fat after gastric bypass. If I'm still fat, just over 180 pounds, how can I not be a failure? I hear everyone ooh and ahh over my "success", but I'm afraid that it's not permanent, that I'm destined to fail...again.

What...is...wrong...with...me? 

At least I've been honest about it, I guess. That should count for something, right? Baby Daddy knows my MO, but I don't think he really knows what to do with me. And honestly, what COULD he really do? So, I just try to do the best I can and not beat myself up because that never gets me anywhere but right back to the beginning of the cycle. 

What do you fear? Does it drive you in a good direction or toward the dark side? I'd love to hear how you deal with it, especially if you know how to beat it. Drop me a line in the comments or at bypassingbulimia@gmail.com and let me know if you have any secret super powers!

Less than...

"Less than" has been a recurring theme throughout my life: feeling less than worthy, feeling less than beautiful, feeling less than I should be or could be. 

Verajust about everything.

However, right now, less than has taken on its most positive meaning in my life.

I officially weigh LESS THAN my husband. Can I get a big ol' "HELL YEAH!" on that one, please???

I weighed in this morning at 185.9 pounds, the lowest number I've seen on the scale in a very, very long time. I've had an epiphany of sorts and I want to be happy. I want to be healthy and STRONG. I am driven and I am going to achieve. 

Yes, I have promised myself this so many times over the years. In fact, I've been making this promise to myself for over 20 years. However, something has changed and it has motivated me more than my desire to be thin, my love/hate/obsessive relationship with food, and my personal shame combined. Is this just a manic episode driving me? Maybe. But, I really don't think so.

My mom recently discovered a heart problem that I can almost guarantee is directly related to being overweight/obese, having high blood pressure, and possibly having had an "event"/minor heart attack. She's only 55 and is the rock of the family. She has GOT to make some serious health and lifestyle changes because I NEED HER. So, even though I'm over 1,500 miles away, I'm on a mission to do it with her and be a motivator and partner in crime. 

I've tried to get her to at least consider bariatric surgery in some form, especially a sleeve gastrectomy since there's no re-routing of the intestines or possibility of complications from vitamin deficiency/etc. Alas, it's a no-go. She's steadfastly against it, says she's "too old", and throws out every excuse in the book. Ok, so then do something, right? Like I've said before, she has struggled with her weight all her adult life and I've followed suit. But, now is the time for us to both get our shit together, stop the negative cycles, and make the commitment to our health. Damn, maybe I have a career in motivational speaking in my future?

"We-e-e-elll...la-de-freakin'-da!" 

I got one of these little guys for Christmas and I am in love. When I'm being "good" and active, he smiles at me and even winks. When I'm being lazy, I get a frowny face and he even sticks his tongue out at me. We've affectionately named him "Fitbitch" and I think my husband is even slightly jealous, as I've taken the Fitbit instruction's suggestion and keep him clipped in my bra all the time. I sent one to my mom so we can be friends on the website and have a little friendly competition. I hope she loves him as much as I do. I swear, he forces me to strive for as many steps as possible every.single.day. My Fitbit is Vera-tested and approved!  

Another mission I'm on is to make the Eat Clean Diet my way of life. I have been there and done that with every fad diet that has ever been on the market. This just makes sense to me. I try to be as organic and "crunchy granola" as I possibly can and this follows that whole premise and takes it a bit further. Can I go super hardcore and never screw up? No. I am prone to blowing it and I think I can accept that I will not be 100% "clean" all the time. Like Christina Aguilera, I am a "dirty girl", after all. But, I ordered some books and resources and I'm on a mission. Wish me luck! I'm hoping to inspire my mom to adopt the same even a few days a week. She also has a vegan friend who has worked to inspire plant-based change, so I'm hoping that our "it takes a village" approach will keep us both on track.

All in all, I feel pretty good right now. Again, is this a manic cycle? I really, really hope not. With this post as a kickoff, I'll try to update as much as possible and document progress and mental/emotional progress, too. Here we go!

F.R.E.A.M. and the 5DPT

Holy acronyms, Batman! Like cash to the Wu Tang Clan, food rules everything around me. Sigh.  

Because food is all I ever think about, I decided that I needed to do the 5DPT, the 5-Day Pouch Test. I was able to relate to all these fears:  

• Does my pouch still work?
• Have I broken my pouch?
• Am I doomed to be a failure at this, too?
• Can I lose the weight I've regained?
• Is the honeymoon over?

I was relying on too many "slider" foods: yogurt, cottage cheese, protein shakes. I had let way, way too many bad habits sneak in: eating freaking BREAD with gobs of honey butter at work, gorging myself on dessert (which promptly makes me throw up violently and feel like pure hell, yet I can't control myself), eating way too often, grazing. I thought I should try to teach myself to be "ok" with the full feeling of eating solid protein, like meat, with the hope that it would keep me full and keep me from making bad food choices. I have had such a hard time with meat, partly anatomically but mostly mentally. I've always been "funny" about meat and was a vegetarian for a long time, but after surgery, I found that I couldn't eat meat without pain and puking. After going through treatment, I realized that it was probably, at least partially, another way to subconsciously restrict. Blah.

So, how did that work out for me? I'll let you guess, lol.  

The first day was rough...really rough.  But, I DID IT.  I made it through the entire day on nothing but shakes, water, coffee, and iced tea. The second day started out really well, but by about 8:00 at work that night, I was STARVING.  Despite consuming a ridiculous amount of protein powder, water, tea, coffee, etc., I felt like crap and just couldn't keep on keepin' on. I gave in and ate bread. It's there, it stares me in the face, and it was so easy to just grab to get *something* into my system. I did finish off the night by eating 5 oz. of seared scallops for some good solid protein, but I felt like a total failure because I couldn't even do TWO of the five days. How lame!

So, even though I kinda screwed up, I'm still trying. I want to feel that tightness and I need to know that I'm not eating too much. What I really need to know is whether or not I've completely ruined my pouch with all the puking. It makes me so nervous. I feel like I can hold too much food. I have some weird pain in weird place at weird times, like any time I'm straining and sometimes when I'm not. It's like a pulling or tearing. That makes me worry...a lot. I also think I feel an ulcer. I need to see my surgeon's office soon and I think I'm going to ask for both a scope and a barium study. Something just doesn't feel right.  

I will be SO upset with myself if I've screwed up my surgery by being stupid and resorting to "behaviors" to deal with things, but really, I can't help it. I try so hard, but sometimes, I just can't deal and that's the only way to make things "all better". I try to use the coping tactics I've learned, but even with the best intentions, I still seem to screw up more often than not. Hate it.   

Tackling Treatment

After spilling my (rearranged) guts at the intake interview and leaving feeling like they wouldn't take me, like I was "too crazy" for just an ED program, the director called to let me know that my insurance had approved without any hassle and that my carrier mandated that I start within two days of approval. Yikes! At this point, I was freaking out and trying to back pedal. "Oh, it's not that bad. I'm totally overreacting and exaggerating. I don't have a "real" problem." Um...yeah right.  

They had me start in a "partial hospitalization" outpatient program that ran from 8:00 am to 2:00 pm. It was a real stretch to be away from my daughter for that amount of time, not to mention the stress it put on us as a family in terms of running around, juggling schedules, childcare, etc. Plus, it seemed to be mostly patients who needed the structure and intense supervision to be able to eat real regular meals, whereas I had the opposite problem. I needed supervision to keep me from eating, lol.

But, as I spent a few more days in the program, I began to realize just how disordered my eating and thinking really are. I say "are" because I am in no way "cured". I am in a much, much better place than I was before treatment, but I still have such a long way to go. I slip up. I slip up too often. I had a really bad "slip up" on Friday and I felt horrible, but I reminded myself that it's OK, that it's not the end of the world. A few weeks ago, I found the most amazing quote in a fortune cookie and had to tape it to my refrigerator to use as a personal mantra:  

One. Day. At. A. Time. It's all I can do.  I have to remind myself of this over and over...and over and over.  

Even though I wasn't the sort of patient they typically saw, they were absolutely wonderful and worked around my dietary needs, scheduling needs, and emotional needs to figure out what would be the best fit for me. We finally decided that their intensive outpatient night program would be the best place for me. I came to enjoy it and look forward to my nights there, with people who "got it". While they may not have been able to relate to the issues that bypass presents, we were joined by the feelings, the underlying issues, the negative beliefs, the lack of self-esteem, the self-hatred, the never-ending barrage of the ED voice. Because when you really break it down, no matter the eating disorder diagnosis, aren't we're all the same at heart? Broken-hearted, sad, desperate, shamed, angry, scared...  

I'll delve deeper into the nitty gritty of my time in treatment as we go along and I'll share a lot of what we worked on in group, as well as the some of the more private writing I've done over the past few months. There will be positive, but there will be a lot of negative, too. I'm tired of sugar-coating and pretending to be OK. I've done it for so long that I'm not sure if I even know the "real me".  Admitting that I needed help to battle my ED is but one piece of the puzzle, yet it's one that has really made me so much more self-aware and I know that this realization is going to be key to my long-term success after bypass. I want to keep this weight off so desperately. I cannot go back to where I was. The fear of failure is a strong driving force, both in terms of recovery and staying healthy and also in favor of retaining the ED behaviors. I go back and forth between needing to be rid of my ED and desperately trying to hold on to my habits for fear of regaining any weight.  Such a double-edged sword, but that's definitely a topic that deserves its own post.  

Reaching Out

I "knew" I needed help roughly 15 years ago, but knowing and doing something with that knowledge in an active way are two completely different things.  

My daughter has a progressive neurometabolic disease and we had decided to begin counseling to help her deal with all she goes through. During the intake interview, the psychologist asked me how I was doing. Hmm...how was I doing? That was something I had to really ponder. Honestly, until I had gastric bypass in November 2011, I had pretty much given up on myself completely: my health, my mental health, my sense of self, my goals and dreams, my body, my weight. I guess it was pretty obvious that I was far from OK after discussing a bit of both my history and my current dysfunction, lol. I wasn't seeing anyone for therapy at the time, so she had me schedule an intake for myself.  I will admit that I have many, many things I could/should work on, but we don't have time to list all my neuroses/diagnoses/etc. right now. That list will take a long time to explore, but we'll get there.  

I've dealt with severe depression and anxiety all my life and currently have a diagnosis of "mood disorder NOS" while they attempt to rule out bipolar. In the course of a few meetings with the new therapist, I had revealed my long struggle with ED and it made me infinitely more aware of just what I was doing to myself and how badly I could damage not only my newly rearranged anatomy, but everything else, too. I was absolutely terrified that I was doing irreparable harm inside: stretching the pouch that was my new stomach, causing ulcers, weakening the lines of staples in my "old" stomach, weakening the sites where my intestines were rerouted and joined back together. I had vivid visions of internal bleeding, emergency surgery, and not being able to care for my daughter. But, I couldn't stop the bingeing or the purging. Stress relief, but in a horribly self-destructive form.  

The therapist had me start journaling daily, basically just reflecting on the day and my feelings. Being open and honest and actually facing everything I had pushed down and used food to keep down was incredibly difficult and emotionally exhausting. I really started to feel like I was hitting the bottom, but it felt good...in a way. I knew that it was time to actually do something and opening up (again) in therapy was the catalyst I needed to force me into action. I had an appointment set with a doctor in my surgeon's office for a check-in the next week and I decided to go in and just be brutally honest.  

So, I did it.  

It was nerve-wracking and embarrassing. I was mortified, but I just went in and told the truth. What a novel concept, huh?  I was sure that they were going to be disappointed, even mad at me. I felt like a little kid in trouble. Adding insult to injury, she even had an intern with her that day and I know he got way more than he had planned out of that patient visit.  

To my surprise, she wasn't mad. She was amazed that I was brave enough to admit what was going on and actually ask for help. I can assure you that "brave" was not an adjective that I would use to describe my feelings in any way that day. She had a powwow with my therapist and they found a treatment program close to my home that focused on ED in all its ugly forms:  anorexia, bulimia, bulimarexia, binge eating, EDNOS, night eating syndrome, bigorexia (muscle dysmorphia/"reverse anorexia"), etc. 

Because my life is one never-ending extenuating circumstance, it wasn't feasible for me to do any sort of inpatient program and I didn't feel that that was what I truly needed. I was worried that when I had the intake interview with the program's director that she would think I was "too crazy" for outpatient and would try to admit me. I was really afraid that someone would think I was somehow "unfit" to care for my daughter. But again, like my doctor, she didn't judge me or make me feel bad. I was more honest than I had probably ever been in my life and I'm so, so glad that I was. I needed this opportunity. Desperately.

Tune in next time to see where I ended up and the treatment plan we formed.

Opening Up

INVITATION If you are a dreamer, come in. If you are a dreamer, a wisher, a liar, A hope-er, a pray-er, a magic bean buyer . . . If you're a pretender, come sit by my fire, For we have some flax golden tales to spin. Come in! Come in! -Shel Silverstein

Come in, come in!  Welcome to a dark little corner of my life. Ok, so maybe it's a little bigger than just a corner. Not quite as big as a guest room, since no one would ever want to stay in here...on purpose, at least. Maybe a den? Either way, it's (slowly) becoming a smaller and smaller space, occupying less of my mind, my time, and my life. As I open the door to the closet and let (most) of the skeletons pour out, I'll open the shades and let in the light so I can see myself a bit better. You, lucky you...you'll get to come along for the ride.  

This blog will chronicle my lifelong battles with food addiction, binge eating, body image, and bulimia. I had roux en y gastric bypass surgery (RNY) on November 29, 2011, naively expecting it to be the supreme road to happiness and weight control, and have lost over 120 pounds so far this year. However, I realized that the old demons had managed to sneak back into my life, manifesting themselves in more and more covert ways. I entered eating disorder treatment in July 2012 and completed six weeks in August. Am I "cured"? Of course not. Am I in a better place than I was? Absolutely.  

The content will definitely not always be pretty, of that I can assure you. But, I promise that I will always present my stories and my ramblings with absolute honesty. My main goal in opening up and putting it all out here is to be able to help those who are walking the same path, since I know I cannot be the only one dealing with disordered eating after weight loss surgery. My surgeon's office claims that most people turn to alcohol or drug addiction as a substitute for food addiction after surgery, but I know disordered eating after surgery has to be way more prevalent than anyone knows or cares to admit. Honestly, you don't get to over 300 pounds and the point of needing your insides rearranged to manage your weight without some form of disordered eating. If you really think about it, the eating plan and way of life after surgery are all about eating disorder behaviors: constant weighing and measuring, restricting carbs, tiny portions, etc. I just hope that I can maybe convince anyone considering surgery to be extremely honest with themselves about the "why" of their problem with obesity BEFORE surgery.  

Even though I was completely open about my history both with my surgeon and at the pre-surgery psychological evaluation, I don't think anyone could have predicted how I would respond to life after surgery. Body image issues, which everyone has, are amplified to an extreme. Sagging, drooping, extra skin, hair loss. Even though the compliments keep coming, the negative thoughts seemed to outnumber them 10:1. Oh, how I wish someone would have forced me into treatment before surgery, if not 15 or so years ago. Of course, hindsight is 20/20. But, if I can help even one person face the facts and get help, sharing my story will be fulfilling and worthwhile. It's not easy to open up, even anonymously, but I need to do this for myself as much as I hope to be able to help someone else.  

So, follow along for all the "fun". I'll let it all out, work on recovery, and continue working on my weight loss to get to a strong and HEALTHY weight.  I'll laugh, I'll cry, I'll bitch and moan. And, I always promise to take it one day at a time.  

It's all I can do.