Eureka, I'm Codependent!

Well, I've discovered a book all about me: Codependent No More by Melody Beattie. I can tell it's going to make some sense out of the nonsense I've been calling life.

I have been beating myself up for not being the person I should be and trying to figure out why I haven't been able to overcome the things I keep doing over and over. (Interestingly enough, the fact that I just said 'should' is a codependent thing....)

Here're the first couple of things that made complete sense about what I have been doing my whole life that have not been working:

"A codependent person is one who has let another person's behavior affect him or her, and who is obsessed with controlling that person's behavior."

ding-ding-ding!!! I have and have had certain people in my life whose opinions I hold in such high regard that I obsess about what they think about me, and what they would think about whatever I'm doing at the time, etc.

"[Codependency] lies in...the ways we have let other people's behavior affect us and in the ways we try to affect them: the obsessing, the controlling, the obsessive 'helping,' caretaking, low self-worth bordering on self-hatred, self-repression, abundance of anger and guilt, peculiar dependency on peculiar people, attraction to and tolerance for the bizarre, other-centeredness that results in abandonment of self, communication problems, intimacy problems, and an ongoing whirlwind trip through the five-stage grief process."

Whew, wow, OK, sounds a bit familiar...yes even the peculiar and bizarre. It took me awhile to own the last part about grief, but when I got to thinking about how long I grieved for my dad, and how I would see someone who looked like him or dressed like him, saw a van that looked like his, it was like he died all over again or he was there affecting me with mental abuse, or numerous sorts of things. It doesn't happen very often anymore, but that grief thing, yeah, it's on track.

Ohmygosh, here's more:

"[Codependents] have worried themselves sick about other people. They have tried to help in ways that didn't help. They have said yes when they meant no. They have tried to make other people see things their way. They have bent over backward to avoid hurting people's feelings and, in so doing, have hurt themselves. They have been afraid to trust their feelings. They have believed lies and then felt betrayed. They have wanted to get even and punish others. They have felt so angry they wanted to kill. They have struggled for their rights while other people said they didn't have any. They have worn sackcloth because they didn't believe they deserved silk."

I could cry, truly, because for once I am seeing in print exactly how I have felt but could never explain to anyone why I felt that way. I have spent so long feeling so inadequate, so worthless. My entire life of reactions and decisions have been a mystery to me because I never understood why on earth I have done the things I've done, especially when once I'm called out to see what I'm doing, I can't tell you why I've done it or what led me to do it. I swear sometimes Pablo thinks I'm making things up or lying because my actions do not make sense to him. They don't make sense to me and I'm the one doing them, so what does one make of that? I didn't know before, but at least I have hope that if I don't come to understand why I've done something, at least maybe I won't do it anymore.

Oh gosh, here's a BIG one for me:

"Codependents are reactionaries. They overreact. They underreact. But rarely do they act. They react to the problems, pains, lives, and behaviors of others. They react to their own problems, pains, and behaviors. Many codependent reactions are reactions to stress and uncertainty of living...."

I'm so tired of not acting but only reacting. But I've been trying to figure out how I can cause myself to act instead of react, when that's how I've always done it. I'm hoping this book will show me the keys to unlocking these things inside me that have been hidden since, well, I don't know if I've ever used them before. Oh good, Chapter 6 we'll be getting into that!

I know that my codependency comes from the relationship with my father. He was so overwhelming in so many aspects. He was the center of the universe for our family. Whatever mood he was in dictated whatever mood we were in. And, of course, not necessarily for long, because he could change moods or something could set him off in the blink of an eye. (Love to deny I'm anything like that....)

We had to walk on eggshells. We had to do things his way because he said so. We never seemed to do anything right. We were stupid, worthless, couldn't think for ourselves.... I realize that somewhere in there I gave up on ever trying to be anything but wrong, and gave up on trying to figure out anything for myself because I was wrong, stopped planning to do anything because we would do whatever he wanted anyway, and just tried to stay out of the way and make sure he was kept in a good mood if possible. It was a lot of work, and I wasn't very successful at it. I longed to make him proud, to do something well, to do something right. I've sought out men's approval my entire life because of it.

I figure that's why I had panic attacks since I can remember. I got to the point that nothing I did was good enough and so I panicked if I had to do anything short of follow directions--which I resented and have resented having to do because I know I have a brain, and when I'm not overanalyzing everything I think the darn thing works pretty well. But I've become so consumed with not doing something wrong, and about what people will think about me and what I have done that I'm afraid to do, say, or think anything that might be 'wrong'.

I spend so much time in overwhelming anxiety over what could be that I don't get anything accomplished. Pablo gets mad at me because my fear of screwing up or looking stupid keeps me from doing anything. I surely don't like it myself and would love to stop doing it. I simply haven't figured out what it takes to flip the switch over yet. Sometimes I wonder how long it will take for me to get it, and who will be left in my life by the time I do?

Oh my goodness, there's a list several pages long of characteristics of codependents that I've gone through now, and let me tell you, out of 233 (if I counted correctly) possible characteristics of codependency, I DON'T think I have problem with 6 of them.... Here's what they are:

1.) Equate love with pain.

I must say that any 'love' relationship I have been in has been filled with pain, but I know that a truly loving and honest relationship may have painful times, but not as a result of one or both of the people inflicting pain on the other person intentionally.

2.) Think God has abandoned them.
3.) Lose faith and trust in God.

Neither of those are accurate. I know that without God I am completely lost and if anything I know that it's only through His grace that He sticks with me and I am blessed because of it!

4.) Wonder if they'll ever not be angry.

I don't feel that I am angry a lot, but rather not happy. Pablo has to call me out on how negative I talk and how easily I see what sucks than what's extraordinary. I want to change that for sure.

I was thinking about it, and it's not that I start out the day happy and then as things happen throughout the day, get worse and worse. I start out unhappy and things get worse throughout the day. I've tried to remind myself to get happy, with notes here and there, writing it on my hand the night before. Should you really have to remind yourself to be happy? Does that mean I am just an unhappy person with no prospects of ever being happy, that in my core I am rotten?

No, I don't believe that. I know that I need to stick closer to God and then His light will shine.

5.) Be extremely responsible.

Oh, I wish that were true but I've tried to quit lying even if it's a little white lie or if it's only lying to myself, so I know I can't mark THAT one.

6.) Become addicted to alcohol or other drugs.

I'm SO glad that I haven't done that!!! I know with all of the meds I've taken that I could abuse prescription pills if I wanted to, but I've never in the least bit been interested in that. I've never been into illegal drugs either, though I've wondered what Ecstasy or LSD feels like, though maybe everyone has wondered that, and like Bill Clinton, I tried to inhale, but just couldn't....

They should have added a few things to that list besides those chemicals: FOOD? Now that's something I KNOW I'm addicted to. I fell off the wagon last night and today as a result of some very emotional situations. I sometimes wish it was a chemical I am addicted to--you can live without alcohol or drugs, but you cannot live without food. It sucks. It's my comfort, my entertainment, my friend, my enemy! The book does say it later, though: "Many people with eating disorders are codependents."

I don't know what to expect out of reading this book. I'm definitely hopeful, but a bit trepidatious. I guess only time and action will tell--hopefully not time waiting for something to happen and not reaction.... I've spent too much of my life already trying to get over the past doing the same crap.

As the quotation that is commonly attributed to Benjamin Franklin or Albert Einstein states:

"The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results."

I surely don't want to be insane, and I'm tired of things turning out like crap. Let's try something new, even if I fail, at least it's DIFFERENT! I want to be codependent no more, I want to stand on my own (with GOD!) and act like an adult, act 'normal,' not be buggered about what everybody might think about what I'm saying or doing. I just want to be ME. Oh, that sounds good indeed!

Be blessed!

:) Jan

A Farewell to Friendship?

My friend Marie is addicted to pain pills. She's been addicted to them for over 11 years now. I think she's finally hit rock bottom. Well, I think there's further she could go, but I'm hoping this is as far as she has to get in order to make a change.

I am guilty of having known about her addiction for the last couple of years. I have thought about calling her mother, or calling her doctors, but never thought it was my place to do so, never wanted to 'make it worse' on her. I always thought I could help her overcome it somehow. I regret that incredibly.

It all started after the birth of her second child. There were a lot of complications from the epidural, and she ended up having a lot of very strange pain and intense migraines. The doctors were not careful with dispensing the pills, and she ended up hooked. She has worked the system visiting different doctors, ERs and clinics. She has gotten them from other people who wanted to help, by giving her things that they had been prescribed that didn't work for them, so that maybe she would find some relief from her headaches.

Well, in January things finally came to a head when her teenage son went to live with his father; she began to spin out of control so much that she had visited several doctors, emergency rooms, and clinics in order to get several types of pain medications and cough syrups. I think she said she got 60 pills in 3 days or something. I know it was a crazy number! Thankfully, the pharmacy flagged it and notified all the doctors as to what was going on. As a result, she can (probably) no longer get narcotics medications in this area, and her PCP dropped her as a patient.

Let me say here that I completely disagree with what her PCP did. I understand that Marie broke her confidence with her PCP, of that there is no doubt, and no forgiveness. However, now Marie will have to get a new PCP who may not actually realize or find out that she has the addiction, and will right off the bat be in a strained relationship. I wish that the PCP had kept her on as a patient so that she would be the responsible and aware physician that Marie needs. Addiction to pain medication is a HUGE problem, especially in the area in which we live, and it needs to be dealt with differently by the medical establishment. I wish doctors would pay more attention to what they're prescribing, how much and how often, and would then, when a problem is spotted, take the initiative to help that person if they still desire it, and to not leave them high and dry. How many people like Marie have then turned to buying those pain pills illegally, or a rougher drug because they are desperate?

I worry about her SO much, and that is part of the reason it's taken me this long to finally say 'enough' and let her know I cannot help her anymore.

Well, anyway, after what happened with the pharmacies and doctors in January, Marie started to really abuse one of the medications she is still on. It's actually one I used to take for my nerve ending problems associated with Fibromyalgia: Neurontin. Somehow she talked another doctor into prescribing her 8 per day, or 240 per month!!! It's outrageous that she ever got that many. Anyway, she was having a hard time controlling it, taking even more than 8 per day, sometimes up to 30 in 24 hours! When she finally told me what she had been doing, I offered to help her by dividing up the pills into 4 equal parts and having her pick them up once per week in order to make them last as they should.

We got through the first month--last month--rather shakily. She had to come and get pills early because she would have taken too many, but she somehow made it through. I really felt sorry for her, as I know what addiction is like, and didn't judge her for it. This month was not so good, but she was just into week two. It never bothered me to do it, I was hoping it would work for her because she actually does need that medication for a nerve condition she has. What's the big deal of counting out some pills, putting them into different containers, and holding them until she comes to get them? I didn't mind, and they didn't bother me. I could live in a pharmacy and not care. Pills don't do it for me. My plan is to get off of the ones I am on now. So, to dole them out to her didn't put me out at all.

Well, this weekend was pretty insane. She had been given Trazodone by an idiot psychiatrist which made her really dizzy, tired, and sick, and of course, she was drinking alcohol which it says to absolutely NOT do. Unfortunately, Marie uses alcohol for another addiction outlet. Her drinking is out of control now, too.

So, she said that Friday evening was her last Trazodone, and Saturday she was pretty sick and very tired from it, and asked me to bring her the next batch of her pills for the next week so she would already have them. So, I was going sort-of in that direction so I drove out there to her house. I could tell she had not been well. She didn't look drugged like I've seen her so many times, she just looked like someone who was getting over being sick. She said she was just going to go to bed after she watched a movie.

At 6 am my phone rang and woke me up. Now, as I have told you before, it usually takes me a long time to get to sleep, and I don't sleep very well. It had taken me until 4 am to get to sleep, and I had to get up at 8 am in order to make it to church. Needless to say, being awakened by a drunk idiot leaving a message on the machine about the same dumb things she always does, but doesn't stop doing, did NOT amuse me. I am sorry to be so blunt, but really, you can only hear the same thing from someone over and over before you get sick of dealing with them!

So, I hardly got any sleep which made for a really long and rather difficult day. I have to say that I was VERY angry with her. So I was rather childish and didn't talk to her until yesterday--she called at least 10 times and left messages. I was really so mad that I didn't think I could talk to her without being mean and I didn't want to go there. I wasn't sure I was going to talk to her ever again, honestly. I finally figured out she didn't care about me, and was only using me, just as she has almost our entire friendship.

Now, I allowed it to happen, so that's my own fault undoubtedly. But, I finally decided that I'd had enough of it, I deserved better, and I couldn't help her anymore--she needs way more help than I have in me. I also know that the addicted Marie is not the sober Marie. Before the addiction she was rather selfish, but never to the point of not caring at all and doing specifically vicious things. She has gotten to that point now and honestly, I don't like her.

We talked yesterday. She ended up showing up here with food--my addiction. And it's not the first time she has tried to undermine me by giving me food. That sounds so stupid, but it's true. I gained the almost 10 pounds I'd lost on Weight Watchers back from 2 weeks of her giving me a bunch of food. At one point I said that I was thinking if I really let myself get out of control, I'd be 900 pounds and trapped in my house. She said, "Sweetie, that's OK, you can get me pain pills and I'll keep feeding you." I wish she had really been kidding.

So anyway, she asked me to give her another week's worth of pills as she had already taken that other bag in two days--at least 60 pills--and to throw the rest away. She had no refills left on those and is supposed to see a counselor of some sort next Monday. I did as she asked, the extras are gone. She said she knew it wasn't going to work, intimating that I was judging her by getting mad at her, so in essence, I had let her down.

Once, a guy told her, "I'm disappointed in you." She always thought it was SO ridiculous that he said it to her, but I have to admit, that's exactly what I've been thinking, I'm disappointed. I wish she would have been able to get a grip on her addiction, get herself under control, and not let herself get into as much trouble as she has. I wish she could really see what she's done. I wish she had some remorse. I think it's going to come, and I believe she can overcome the addiction. She doesn't give herself credit and she's been destructive for so long. I can only hope that those people on Monday can help her.

I guess all of us who are addicts think we can control it. It's a lie of the enemy. THIS time we can do it differently. THIS time we have it all under control. Just like in AA, they tell alcoholics that they are always addicts, one drop of alcohol is too much. No matter the addiction, the same truth prevails. In my case, food is REALLY tough because I HAVE to eat. There's no way out of it. I HAVE to take control and break all of the patterns that lead me to overeat. It's really hard to do because I have to be 'on' 24-7, always cognizant of what I'm doing, what I'm thinking, what I'm eating, if and why they're related. I can't let my guard down, and when I get out of control I don't have any real grasp on reality. It's scary for me, I can't imagine what it's like to have an addiction to a potentially deadly substance.

I really do hope Marie finds the help she needs. I am not gone from her life, I'm just gone from her addiction. I don't want to be brought down myself. Two drowning people cannot help each other out of the water. I think I'm finally starting to crawl up on the beach and I can't disregard my own health and well-being for anything. I hope to see her on the other side of it and be really proud of her. I'd never not talk to her, but I can't help her, I don't have the training, I don't have the resources, I don't have the strength. I love her, and I always will, and I will pray for her always. But I have to love me more.

:) Jan

Talking to God

I need to talk to God more. That is such an understatement!!!

Who else could I talk to that understands every pain and every situation in my life? Who has suffered more, done more, seen more, said more? Who else could I turn to that would actually want to hear every last thing I have to say?

Why is it that He's the last one I seem to turn to?

I have to admit I wish I was one of those people who could say, "You know, God told me this," or maybe, "You know, I know God wants me to that...." I know quite a few people that say this, and for awhile I was quite upset with God because I didn't 'hear' Him.

"God, why don't I hear You?"

He must laugh at us, shake His head at us, marvel at our denseness. I know He definitely must have quite a show when watching me! I can imagine Him sitting up in Heaven, and there's something about to be revealed to one of us and He elbows Michael and says, "Watch this, you're going to love this!" I bet He enjoys watching those moments.

But you know, I realized that God 'talks' to me through books and TV. That probably sounds dumb, but I believe it. Every time I need to hear something, I hear it from one of those sources. It never ceases to amaze me how I always hear what I need to hear. Whether it comes from Joyce Meyer, David Jeremiah, heck Dr. Phil, I always hear whatever I need to hear when I need to hear it. It surely makes me realize that in a world full of so many people and so much to tend to, God still remembers me and that makes me special! Hard to even wrap my brain around, but it's true!

I battle so much with feeling like I don't count, I don't matter, I don't make a difference in this world, I'm not important, I'm not special. I know that it stems from how my father treated me and how I saw myself through his eyes. The incredible lack of self-esteem I have and have had my entire life often fuels my depression. The last several weeks have found me wallowing in depression and self pity. I would probably still be there if Pablo hadn't gotten fed up with my doom and called me out on it. Truly, everything was...suck. This sucks, that sucks, everybody sucks, everything sucks, life sucks, I suck.... He had finally had enough and said pretty much hey, get a grip, you have lots to be thankful for, don't get bitter.

I surely felt bitter. I had to head back to WVU to see the same doctor who had put me on that Tramadol and whose office had never even called me back about it. Why? Because my PCP's office said they really didn't want to deal with it, and really didn't even have time to make the appointment! But I've raved about the medical establishment enough, so I'm not giving that any more time. Suffice it to say that I'd had enough medical crap and thought it sucked....

Anyway, all sorts of things were happening around me, and I was letting them pile on top of me instead of dealing with them as I could and looking to God for strength. I actually had three panic attacks last week, and I haven't had those in years! The enemy definitely had me where he wanted me--helpless from being petrified and completely without hope. The devil is not an idiot. He's so good at his job, he knows us so well, way better than we know ourselves. And unfortunately I let him win the last couple of weeks. Well, praise God above He had Pablo smack me in the head, and then sent Joyce Meyer and David Jeremiah to remind me how God works to help us get back from where we've been.

And I hated where I was--no one wants to be miserable and make the people around them miserable. I had just gotten so low that I was below the horizon and ready to about give myself up to misery. Uff, that's not fun, not a fun place to be, not a fun place to stay, and I don't know when you get that low if you have any strength to pull yourself out of it. I truly think that it takes someone else to say, "All right, that's enough, you have to come back to the light." I don't think I had that strength, and unfortunately the only other person I was really talking to besides Pablo was in the same boat I was in. Hard to keep yourself from drowning when another person is drowning beside of you and you keep grabbing onto each other. There's no help in that situation!

I truly want to help others battle these and other struggles. Whether the battle is depression, addiction--which by the way I lost another 1.4 pounds but I think I gained it all back plus more today. I had a day where all I wanted to do was eat. Luckily I don't have a lot of food around now that I can just scarf--gosh I wanted chocolate badly!!! But believe me, I did enough damage with high fiber bread and butter.... But the battle over these kinds of pressures is a difficult one, and one I know we can't handle alone.

I have been a solitary person most of my life. Since I was little--I think in part due to the molestations--I have kept things to myself or tried to figure out how to deal with them on my own. Pablo is the first person I ever really showed my real self to. And boy, it hasn't always been a pretty picture, that's for sure! But, I know what it's like to try to keep all the secrets, all of the battles, everything negative to oneself, and I know the outcome is never good. Even though I thought I was keeping the 'bad stuff' from Pablo over the last several weeks, I showed him the 'bad stuff' that was festering inside of me because of keeping it all in. We need to share our burdens, there's no shame in that, it's what makes us human--and that's not a bad thing!

An old friend wrote to me and said she's read some of my entries and always thought I was happy-go-lucky, and that she never had any idea what was really going on in my life. She was so right, as I did everything I could to make sure people wanted to be around me by being funny or seeming happy. In talking to my counselor I have come to realize that I have 'made' different masks to wear in dealing with people, all stemming from my interactions with my dad, mainly. I have an Entertainer mask that I wear a lot. Of course, the Happy Fat Girl is a pretty common image in the entertainment industry, and why is that? Because we're pretty common. Most of the women I know who have significant weight issues play the Happy Fat Girl role. It makes us pleasing to people who we do not want to consider us unacceptable, and as unacceptable as we feel to ourselves. If we can make someone happy, then maybe they can make us happy, too. Boy, I have a lot more to say about that when it comes to men, but I'll deal with that in another post sometime.

That happy mask is one that I had fairly well glued to my face until I met Pablo. I think he peeled it off...I surely didn't want him to see the real me. I'm so thankful that he did it, but it has been a painful process to try to heal what's underneath. And let me tell you, I'm not anywhere near ready to drop it! I don't know what I really look like underneath. It's weird to think I'm 35 years old and don't really know who I am. I know who I've tried to be, who I've pretended to be, but to let my mask down and just be me? I don't know who I really am, and I don't know how to drop the mask yet. More counseling needed....

Well, I don't know how I ended up here when I was talking about praying to God, but, I guess I needed to go through all of that. When I bring it all around it simply means one thing: I need to pray to God. Over the last couple of weeks I have been beating myself up for not changing, not being a better person, not thinking correctly, not having a good attitude. I was wondering what was wrong with me that I couldn't change. Well, Joyce Meyer was talking about change, and about how we try to change ourselves and others. She said only God can change people, we can't. What we can do, and should do, is do what we can do and pray for God to do those things we simply can't. Well, that was so good to hear because I keep trying to change myself and beat myself up because I don't change. I've been struggling so much with the battle and the worry that I won't ever change. What I haven't been doing is praying to God to change what I can't.

I pray all day long, whenever something comes to mind, but I haven't been very focused in my prayers. I know I need to talk to God and really be honest, and then He will change me in His time according to what I need, not what I think I need. I always beat myself up, too, wondering why I can't keep my mind focused on God and what I know I should do, but then, didn't the Apostle Paul wonder at why he seemed to be able to do the things he didn't want to do, but the things he knew he should do he didn't do? I know I often forget that even the heroes of the Bible were failures in living the life God calls us to. But none of us are perfect, and never will be. I don't know why I think I am the only one who should be and fails at it.

Anyway, bottom line is, I'm thankful for the life I have and I don't want to return to the self pity and depression mode I was in. I have so much that I don't deserve praise God, but then I have so much I need to give that I'm not doing, Lord please help me! I want to serve God but need to quit getting in the way of myself. I need to ask God for help, and ask others for help, because no one on this earth can do everything by themselves. And, if I truly want to change, then I need to seek God's help through prayer, and simply do that which I know to do.

God bless!

:) Jan

Woo Hoo! I Lost 4.3 lbs.!!!

Sweeeeeeeeeeeeeeet!

I must say I'm very proud of me. Yes, I messed up here and there, no, I didn't stick to the rules exactly, but I did the best I could and got results!!!

Yes, I ate at Applebee's for lunch and I just celebrated with pizza and a sugar cookie, but I Pointed them out, so there. Thankfully the menu has Weight Watchers Points on some foods and the pizza is in my little WW book.

And hey, I'm so proud of Eve, too! She lost 3 lbs. this week and she lost 4+ last week. Wow. She's lost 41 pounds total. I'm so glad to have her as my WW buddy! I know I must be accountable and I need encouragement.

I'm, of course, leery of celebrating too hard. I know me, I know my past with food and addiction. I know what evil lurks inside me when it comes to my food obsession. It truly is an obsession, too. I hate it, but there you have it, I have a food obsession and addiction.

If there is food that is left over from a meal, I obsess about it. If there is one piece of pizza left, I will obsess about it until someone has eaten it, or I eat it myself. It cannot exist, someone has to eat it. And don't even think about leaving the melted cheese stuck to the box! If there's something special, like party foods, dips, cookies, whatever, if it's something I don't usually eat, I obsess about it. I need to eat all I can. What, like I won't ever get it again? Just in case it's my last chip with dip on earth I need to chow down on all of it? What if they stop making it??? I wish I could tell you that I have some rational thoughts while I'm doing it, but I don't. I simply am driven to do it.

All addictions are the same. Does an alcoholic think about the actual consequences to their drinking while they're searching for their next drink? No, they have one thing on their mind, getting that alcohol. It's the same with sex addictions. They are not thinking about anything but having sex or getting their porn. They are driven to fulfill their need for sex. I am driven to eat. We're all the same, all addicts are the same. We're trying to fill a hole inside of us with something that makes us feel good.

I think my addiction is pretty lame. Of all things on this earth that I could be addicted to, food? That's so weak. Only a weak, pathetic person would be addicted to food. I think all addicts must think this way. But I do hate my addiction and think it shows how weak I am.

I know why I have it, though, so for that I am thankful. It's a long story, which I will probably elaborate on eventually, but, for as long as I can remember I have had panic attacks. My mom said she can remember me at about 9 months old gagging when she would take me somewhere new. Now, I was not diagnosed as having Social Anxiety Disorder until I was about 24, so I lived with "getting nervous" over two decades with no explanation as to what was really going on with me. New situations made me nervous and unfortunately I had enlarged tonsils, and whenever I got nervous I would gag, and often times vomit.

This made for a very unhappy life for me, as well as for my family. It seemed that everywhere we went I threw up. We went out to dinner, I ate, I threw up, my father got very angry with me and made me feel horrible about it. My mom and brother were annoyed because I made going out so difficult. I was miserable because I had no way of controlling it. As my brother once complained, "She ruins everything." That's exactly how I felt, too.

I threw up every morning before I got on the bus to go to school for the first several years. I threw up almost every day at lunch--kids would sometimes tease me that my spaghetti was worms or would open their mouth so I could see their partially chewed food, you know how rotten kids can be--but I threw up so much that they eventually made me eat alone in the classroom by myself. I remember doing that until about 3rd grade. I threw up throughout the day or week, depending on the situation. I felt so ashamed but I couldn't control it.

From all of this I learned two things: food is my enemy, food is my comfort.

I would get up in the middle of the night when I was little and I would eat. I can vividly remember what the refrigerator looked like at my height--I couldn't see past the 2nd shelf up. I would eat anything I could reach: raw hot dogs, cheese slices, baloney, and Parmesan cheese out of the palm of my hand. Once I was satisfied, I would go back to bed.

Nobody ever knew I did it. I told my mother about it recently and she was shocked. She had no idea I did anything of the sort. It was my secret time. It was my time to control the food instead of it controlling me. It was a time when nobody was around so I could be completely relaxed and enjoy myself. So, in trying to control the food, it ended up controlling me.

I was a pretty skinny kid until I went to kindergarten. But once I got into that daily routine of vomiting and the shame and ostracism it caused, I turned to my nightly binges to somehow satisfy my craving for acceptance and love, and just to be normal.

I know it's been a roller coaster with food. When you take all of that into consideration, how I couldn't keep from throwing up, how I was belittled or cajoled because I got sick all the time, how I just wanted to be accepted, and then throw in the molestations and the simple fact that I just wanted my father's unconditional love, there's no doubt in my mind why I have always been driven to lose weight, then, when a man enters the picture.

It's such a tangled web, but bottom line, I see it. I see how I obsess about it. I can see the long and tumultuous relationship I've had with food. I can see how my relationships have affected me and how I view weight loss. It's truly incredible to me to think that something as basic as food can rule my life if I let it.

4.3 pounds, yee haa, that's a little bit of my life I just got back and I'm going to fight this week for even more!

:) Jan

The Return of Weight Watchers

I am fat and I am tired of it. And, I have decided that I will lose weight now.

I am publishing on the WWW for the entire planet to have access, my weight as of yesterday: 274.1 pounds. That number is surreal to me, but it is not the most I have ever weighed. My largest number was 305.6 pounds in January of 2007.

Disgusted? I am. Why did I get to this point? Many reasons and excuses I could give you. Being an insulin-dependent Type II diabetic makes it very difficult. Being on over 22 pills of medication a day makes it difficult. Being a food addict makes it difficult--and let me tell you, I have battled those issues since I was at least 3 and they are deeply ingrained in my actions. Having severe pain from fibromyalgia makes it difficult to want to exercise.

But bottom line, there is no reason I have gotten to this morbidly obese point greater than the fact that I have not used self-control to overcome it. Do I have reasons that losing weight is harder for me than most people? Yes. Just because it's harder, does that mean I should just give up then? Nope.

I can do this. But I need to focus and work at it. There is no room for half-way this time. I have lost weight before, I can do it again. But this time it's for the right reasons.

In the past I have lost weight in order to get a man. My greatest yearning is to be in love with the most wonderful man in the world, the one that I know God has prepared for me. I believe he is out there. But I have always made that my reason to lose weight. I have always felt that a man wouldn't or couldn't love me because I was too fat. I felt like that 100 pounds ago.

Anyway, in 1999 I got down to around 210, which I hadn't weighed in over 5 years. The reason was that I was 25 and decided that I needed a man, needed to be in a relationship, needed to be married. So I lost about 25 pounds and I felt really good. I was exercising, people were noticing. I went on the hunt.

I started going onto free online dating sites. I met some very...interesting...men. Some scary, some boring, some crazy, but that summer I found a man that would love me and so I married him after knowing him about 5 weeks. It was a complete disaster. We didn't know each other at all, he had so many issues from his past, I just wanted to be loved and didn't really love him. Bottom line, I can tell you the actual moment I knew I should just walk away from the situation but decided to marry him anyway.

Of course, I ended up gaining weight after we were married, much more than I had even lost. The more depressed I got, the more I ate, the more I weighed, the more depressed I became, the more I ate.... A vicious cycle. I was diagnosed as diabetic during this time. Looooooooong story short, we divorced in 2001, and me at the weight of about 250.

I have tried to lose weight for men my entire life. I did it in grade school. I remember I would either eat a hot roll or an ice cream bar for lunch, and hardly anything at home. I lost a lot of weight, and of course everybody said I looked great, but I can only imagine the damage I had done to my body, let alone the damage to my psyche. I was still unhappy, even though I was 'skinny'. Anytime a man took notice of me at all I would instantly start to diet and make sure he would know I was losing weight. What a terrible roller coaster it has been.

I am so blessed to see all of this. I spent so many years in denial, in excuses, whatever. Do I think it's going to be easy? No way. I have too many years of incorrect thinking and reacting to overcome for it to come easily. I know that this time. Before I just muddled through hoping I would have it lucky this time. I think I see things much more clearly this time and this will make the difference.

So, my very good friend Eve and I have been talking, and she is successfully doing Weight Watchers. I'm very proud of her. She has lost at least 35 pounds and is feeling better and interacting with her children better. I know she will definitely encourage, motivate and inspire me. I have done Weight Watchers twice before so I know I can do it. I understand the program and it's actually quite easy to follow. The hard part is being honest and real about it.

Today I made some chicken fajita-type stuff and measured out my different components to make sure I was portioning properly--man do we over-portion in this society! Anyway, while measuring out my cheese, one of my favorite foods on earth aside from Reese's peanut butter cups, I had the old urge to make it a 'heaping' 1/4 cup as I would have done in the past. But this time I caught myself and was like, "You are only hurting yourself if you do that and you will fail. If that is your choice, then go ahead and quit now." Believe me, that was a break-through.

I have only eaten once today, which is wrong. I have so many bad habits to change and I need to get on a better schedule. When I did my points for the meal, though, it ended up being almost as much as my minimum for the whole day! I know I need to make much better choices, and I am going to be held back by my lack of money to buy better quality foods, but I will have to work through it. Just because it's hard I can't give up.

That's what I have always done. Too hard? Didn't get the response I wanted? I quit.

Well, not this time. I think I'm getting to the point if I don't change this now I won't have much time left to change it ever. And for crying out loud, at 35 years old, no matter what's been done to me, no matter what has happened, I make the final decision. Well, this time I am deciding to do it. I'm going to screw up, that's certain, but at least I'm screwing it up trying instead of being too lazy or selfish and choosing to fail.

:) Jan