Not that there wasn’t a time where doing drugs was awesome (because there was- you heard it here first) but after a certain amount of time, all of the good qualities fade away and the negativity creeps in. All of those fucking annoying consequences steadily stream in. And they aren’t there just hanging out. They are taking over your life. Or better yet, they were taking over my life.
As a woman and an alcoholic, of course I am totally obsessed with my self image. More specifically, my weight. I don’t know how or when this happened, but at some point in my life I seriously and without question began to associate being thin with being happy, being beautiful, being better. And to be totally honest, drugs are a freaking fabulous way to keep your weight down. I mean, hey, your face might age twenty years ahead of it’s time, but you’ll slip rather than squeeze into that size 2 with ease when you’re shooting a drug that makes food uninteresting. The craziest thing is that when I was so strung out, even though I knew my face was a mess with sores and my hair was falling out from malnutrition, I thought I looked good because I was thin.
I hope you guys didn’t think that because I was sober that I was getting sane, because I’m about to release the crazy all over again.
So there is a twelve step program called OA (Overeaters Anonymous) and I have been thinking and talking about going for a long (I mean LONG time) but most recently something happened that pushed me over the edge from thinking and into actually going. Brandon made a comment about how much I look in the mirror and whether he actually meant that I was vain or not doesn’t matter. What matters is this: my life is out of control in this area. I mean seriously out of control. I do look in the mirror all the time but not because I am vain. It’s because I am constantly looking, checking to see if I have gained any weight.
I found myself in a place of despair. I’m looking at pictures of women on the Internet who are thin and wishing I looked that way even though I know in reality that I AM a size 2. It’s like reality and my mind will not rectify. I am waiting and waiting to eat until I am so hungry I get light headed. I’m eating and then feeling panicked- like I’ve eaten too much- and then throwing it up. I feel good or bad dependent upon whether the people I am around are more or less thin than me.
Without the drugs to keep this drowned out, what appears to be a serious eating disorder has finally fully surfaced to rage.
Even though I have a lot of fear around giving up these behaviors (my number one thought is: in order to recover from this do I have to get fat?!)- I know that getting my life together in all of these other areas and not at least attempting to do something abut this would be stupid.
It has been over eight months since I’ve had a drink or a drug. I’m going to meetings and working the steps. I have my second interview (a trial shift) at a restaurant I really want to work at on Thursday. I am taking my yoga classes really seriously- doing a lot of doubles- in preparation of going to teacher training in September. All of these great things are coming together… I can’t have them destroyed by another mental twist I can’t get under control.
So, like I said, I went to my first meeting yesterday, and honestly, it kind of made me want to act out on those behaviors more. It was a literature meeting and the story we read was pretty triggering. Talking about weight and sizes and unhealthy related behaviors… I think in the long run I won’t feel this way afterwards, but it was definitely strange to talk openly about these things. To hear someone say “I’m bulimic,” well, that’s just something you don’t say out loud, you know?
As far as sewing goes, specifically sewing on my quilt, I have been freaking sucking it up. It is so frustrating trying to quilt a queen sized quilt with a freaking Singer with a throat the size of my fist. OH MY GOD. Sometimes I want to just throw it all out the window. So, that being said, I have been taking my time and have about 1/3 of it done.
To tide me over in between bouts of frustration I made a small “bike basket blanket” for my dog Ferdinand. I used two layers of organic cotton batting and just flipped it out, meaning: this was a binding-less blanket. Not really a quilt. But after putting a little piece of cardboard at the bottom of my bike basket, Ferdinand was ready to roll. Now it’s just up to me to become a better rider.