signs, confessions and ads


I find myself back here again; looking for a sign. Waiting for an external event so monumental it will force my hand and slap me back into line again.

But hold on just a pretty second, didn't I just make that observation a few days ago; I said this has to stop and that I'm the only person who can do that? Me! I'm the only one with my foot hovering above the brakes, not any one or any thing external to me.

I'm such a cliche. I can see myself doing this as clear as if I were watching someone else. Yet here I am.

I'm now over half way back to my original heffalump self. I never liked her very much, she wasn't fun and she certainly wasn't happy. I know I'm self-destructing but I can't get myself to stop it. Had I started this blog a year and a half ago it would have been a family fun, lighthearted tale of healthy eating tips and triumphs, filled with stories of rockclimbing, my first City to Surf, my first fancy frock Ball including my first ever very own evening dress. Instead this is a PG level diatribe full of depression, angst and major eating disorders. Kids beware! Don't look at the scary lady!

Time for a Confessional

I've managed to hide the eating disorders most of the time although it vaguely amuses me how complicit people are in allowing me to bury it. When I ventured back into the gym recently and announced I'd put on over 30 kilos in less than a year, my trainer offered the kind suggestion that I'd maybe started eating a little less mindfully and perhaps found it hard to find time to go to the gym since moving and starting a new job. I had to look at him with a quizzical eye and wonder to myself if this is the friendly lie we just all agree upon to save us from the bare faced reality that you simply can't put on that much weight by eating a 'little too much' and forgetting to exercise. He's got the degree, he knows how many calories it takes to gain a kilo. It takes a dedicated commitment to serious amounts of food to achieve that you know. We're talking multiple Sarah Lee's each sitting here.

In the past I managed to do a magical balancing act of consuming the same colossal amounts of food without gaining a single pound. Abracadabra, a couple of fingers later and the food's all gone - magic! That's the way it has always started for me, the binging. In the midst of a successful health-drive the need to calm my anxiety and numb my emotions with food overwhelms to the point of giving in, but I'd deal with it all in the bathroom so it never actually reaches my hips. Problem is that over time my temporary solution to the problem becomes a problem itself until eventually all hope of controlling my consumption starts to wane, the food craving gets ever bigger and eventually I give up on the purging.

A couple of years ago I lost 45 kilos the healthy way but then started to slip. After a whole year of loving my new found food and body freedom I started to binge and purge again. I kept it together, was going to the gym 5 times a week and was looking great, throughout that year another 20 kilos off. To the outside world nothing had changed, my get-fit journey was on track. On the inside though things were in turmoil. I was binging and purging multiple times a day, it was affecting my life and my work as well as my bank balance. I still cringe at the fact you can see the callouses on my knuckles in my wedding photos but at least I was slim-ish!

My goodness, I just realised as I typed that last sentence that in reality I no longer cringe at the callouses I'm actually jealous of them. I wish I could have just continued holding it all together on the surface however dysfunctional I might have been underneath. Not exactly a healthy attitude.

So tomorrow heralds the arrival of a New Year. That seems like a neat place to start. Of course today would be better. In fact the next 10 minutes would be even better for now. But I'm really scared to let go. Just thinking about all this is making me anxious and we all know how I deal with anxiety.

The arrival of a New Year has brought with it the bombardment of weight loss advertising. Every organisation out there is feasting on their boom time opportunity to reel in all those flabby new year resolutionists. I'm finding it all so distressing, they talk of how easy it is. Well it is easy.... when it's easy, but when it's hard it's just plain not and you can't tell me otherwise. I'm angered by the ads but also shamed by them. I'm also slightly tempted by them. I'm considering whether to do something like Lite n'easy and see whether it's possible to have someone else control my eating for a wee while. I'm just not sure I'd be willing to give them the full hold of the reins. I'll allow them control my healthy eating meal food of course, but what if I just keep a hold of the in-between binge food for myself? Guess I won't know unless I try.

who's in charge here?

It's like every thought ends with food for a full stop:
  • Work's stressing me out... must eat something
  • I look ghastly... a doughnut would be good right now
  • I can't believe I've put on so much weight... a cheesecake will stop those thoughts
  • I feel car-sick.... eating will settle that

Of course my right mind know this isn't the case but somehow, and somewhere along the line, I surrendered myself to this way of thinking then allowed myself to be trapped by it. Thing is, I'm the one steering this ship aren't I?

Don't I get a say?

boiling an ani

I want to go back, I really do. I want to be who I was before. It feels contrite to say I'm going to start again, after all when did I ever stop and when was the last day I didn't start again?

I really should have kept this blog up these past few months so I could have used it as a map of the path never to go down again. Since last we spoke I've doubled the weight I've put back on. In fact I don't know what I weigh right now but it's closer to my heaviest than to my lightest. I wish I'd kept a blog while the 60odd kilos were coming off, you'd have seen a very different me.

My anxiety levels have soared and my disordered eating gone completely out of control. I have been known to wonder incredulously how I could possibly keep hurting myself so blatantly. It was like I kept putting my hand in a fire then would look to other people in pain to say 'stop me doing that, it hurts!' Problem is it's not a fire that burns instantly. The relief and numbness the food brings is instantaneous, but the pain it causes takes time. It's more like boiling a frog, by the time the heat's risen to the point of pain I've grown too accustomed to it to consider stopping.

So, here I am. I've never stopped trying but I've also never stopped beating myself up and self-destructing. This has to change.