You Are My Candy Girl

I'm severely addicted to the white stuff - and it ain't crack - it's sugar, baby.

For as long as I can remember, I've used food as a comfort.  It was innocent enough - mum always tried to make me feel better with something sweet when I was down... and my mum was a professional baker!  I think most people find this to be true.  Trouble is, I became severely depressed, and the only comfort I knew was food.

It became a problem when my weight went up and despite a lot of effort, I still had the strong compulsion to satisfy my inner pain with food.  And I developed an eating disorder.

I didn't realize I was trying to stuff the hole that was inside me.

After participating in an intensive DBT group, I had new skills to use: I learned the healthier ways to tolerate distress - the ones that don't do any damage the way drugs, alcohol, over-eating, over-shopping, gambling, and promiscuity do.  So I thought I was okay.

But I still had this problem with food and could not figure it out.

I then participated in an eating disorder group, which helped tremendously by emphasizing meals 2-3 hours apart all day long so that you don't get hungry - hunger in a binge eater is like setting yourself up to fail.  It also emphasized that we do not stigmatize any food as being "bad" food.

I improved. But I still had the problem. I still used food for comfort.  And it wasn't salad either, it was always sugary carbohydrates in some form or another: cookies, cakes, ice-cream, chocolate, breads, etc.

Not only could I not figure out why it was so hard for me, but I also became complacent - it was so normal to me to eat these kinds of foods when I was feeling bad (and I felt bad a hell of a lot) that I didn't think about it - The compulsion was too strong and when I ate the food, I went numb, and then I felt better for a bit.

Of course, health is really important to me, and I'm always trying to make sure I eat well.  I gave up animal products, processed foods, gmo foods, etc. in this pursuit.  But no matter what, I eventually reached for the sugary treat when things got bad enough.

I didn't know I was that depressed.  I thought I got depressed sometimes, but looking back, I think I was just trying to cope - and sugar helped me.  It also made things so much worse.

And now I'm sure that the reason I don't reach for a healthier method of tolerance or comfort is because I've never tried anything that has worked as fast and as well as the food.  Sex works well too, but food is easier to come by.

Last year, when I got into the Nutritarian diet (Joel Fhurman), I learned that when you eat any processed foods, it makes it harder to follow the diet - he strongly suggests refraining completely for best results.  And I pretty much did just that.  Then one day, Brian's daughter came to visit and I thought it would be nice to make some banana bread.  So I found a really healthy recipe and made a loaf.  And I ate a piece. And after that, despite being perfectly content and satisfied without that stuff for months, I felt so strongly pulled to have more... and I did.

And after that, my healthy diet went downhill.

Trying to get myself back on track felt impossible - it seemed that no matter how much I wanted to be healthy, the compulsion to eat the sugary carbs was even stronger.

As I finished off my third? (I don't even remember how many) honey bun, feeling disgustingly sick and full but still needing to finish it, I realized that this was an addiction.

And I don't mean that I'm addicted to food - I'm sure that may be possible, but we sorta need it to live.  I mean addicted to sugar.

I know an addictive behaviour - I've had it with cigarettes and still struggle.  Why I never realized I had the same relationship with sugar as I did with cigarettes, I don't know, but my guess is that it was such a part of my life - right from childhood, that I'd no reason to suspect.  Everyone eats. Everyone needs to eat.  Therefore I just had an eating problem, not an addiction.

The reason I suspected it was sugar and not something else?  I needed sweet things, the sweeter the better - those were what I went for, those are the foods I couldn't stop eating, those were the foods I craved obsessively.

So when Brian came home, I had a talk with home and told him my discovery.  He agreed and said he'd help me in any way he can.

Then, after doing some reading on the topic, I decided to cut out the sugar completely and for good.  This meant any sugar, even honey and maple syrup.  And I had to closely monitor my starchy food intake as that is the type of food I have the problem with.  Starch converts to sugar and ends up having the same effect.

I learned a lot about sugar, and why it is so addictive.  It reacts in the brain the way drugs do.  It's process directly through the liver, like any other toxin.

I learned that Queen Elizabeth was so addicted to sugar that her teeth turned black.

I learned so much that I can't even begin to explain it here and so I'll share some important links/information in future posts on the subject.

The day after I had my realization, I obstained from sugar of any sort.  I didn't even eat bread for the first week... I made Brian hide his bread from me.  I didn't drink coffee because I usually liked it with copious amounts of sugar.

Let me tell you, that first week was horrible!  In all the times I've tried to quit smoking, I have never gone though withdrawals anywhere close to what I went through with the sugar.  If I wasn't addicted to sugar, why would I go through such a bad withdrawal?

My skin wouldn't stop crawling; I was sweating; I couldn't stop clenching my jaw; I was nauseous; I was miserable, moody, depressed, and tired - completely void of energy (even more so than usual and that's saying a lot); and oh my god was I hungry!  All the time.  That deep hunger pain you get when you're just starving - well I had that almost constantly.  I was still eating, but it didn't matter. I later learned this was the body trying to regulate itself since it's been so accustomed to regular doses of sugar my entire life.

During that first week, I felt like I didn't know what to do with myself - like something big was missing inside me and that I would not know how to live without the sugar - not because of the cravings, but because I felt like I was walking around with a giant gaping hole right in the center of me and I just couldn't comprehend feeling that way for, I believed, the rest of my life.

I'd been filling that hole with sugar.  I didn't know any other way.  And now the hole was no longer being filled, and I had to deal with that, I had to deal with how that felt.

I want to touch on that more, but in another post.

I don't remember all my withdrawal symptoms, but I remember what happened after just a few days of no-sugar: food started to taste sweeter.  Just natural food, like vegetables, so much sweeter and more delicious. Everything tasted better in a way that quitting smoking could not even compare to.

Don came over with coffee and so I decided to try it without sugar anyway... the coffee tasted almost as sweet as it did when I was drinking it with a crap-load of sugar!  I thought this was amazing.

I also plan to make a post about the effects of going off of sugar, so look for that one if you're curious.

In the meantime, here's a list of behaviours that someone with an addiction portrays (taken from various sources), all of which are true of myself when it comes to sugar:

• Inability to limit use of a substance or activity
• A craving or compulsion to use the substance or activity.
• Recurrent use escalates to achieve the desired effect, indicating tolerance.
• Attempts to stop usage produces symptoms of withdrawal
• Becoming preoccupied with the addiction, spending a lot of time on planning, engaging in, and recovering from the addictive behavior 
• Secretiveness
• Lying to hide the addiction
• A pattern of avoiding and binging
• The person takes the substance and cannot stop - in many cases, at least one serious attempt was made to give up, but unsuccessfully.
• Addiction continues despite health problem awareness - the individual continues taking the substance regularly, even though they have developed illnesses linked to it.
• An addicted person commonly feels they need their drug to deal with their problems.
• Obsession - an addicted person may spend more and more time and energy focusing on ways of getting hold of their substance, and in some cases how to use it.
• in many cases the addict may take their substance alone, and even in secret.
• A significant number of people who are addicted to a substance are in denial. They are not aware (or refuse to acknowledge) that they have a problem.
• Excess consumption
• Dropping hobbies and activities - as the addiction progresses the individual may stop doing things he/she used to enjoy a lot.
• Having stashes - the addicted individual may have small stocks of their substance hidden away in different parts of the house or car; often in unlikely places.
• Taking an initial large dose. For example, the individual may gulp drinks down in order to get drunk and then feel good.
• Relationship problems
• Feel guilty or ashamed.
• Have friends or family members who are worried about your addiction
• Need to partake in the substance in order to relax or feel better.
• Regularly consume more than you intended to.

It's been over three weeks since I've had any sugar.  I don't regret it.  In fact, I feel so much better.  But I'm going to have to be diligent about it for the rest of my life because it is so easy to stray, as I've learned.

<3 M

 

Random

I'm at Brian's place right now: he's gone to take D to her mum's for the weekend and then doing all kinds of other stuff.  I'm staying home and making him a speshul dinner :-)

Our three-month-aversary was on Wednesday... it feels like a hell of a lot longer than that, but in the good way.  I'm still 'getting used to' this whole being in a relationship thing - it's a completely new experience for me.  I've been in, what you could call, relationships before, but none of them were actual relationships.  Needless to say, I'm a very happy girl, life is grand.

Well, mostly.  I seem to be having a hell of a time with the pain thing.  There's my usual pain, and then there's the pain I've been having for the past few months or so.  It seems to be easing up somewhat, but let's just say this masochist is in need of a safeword O_O

Most other areas of my life are improving: I'm seeing a lot of the fruit of my past labours and can see it wasn't all for naught.

Like I said, I'm still getting used to being in a relationship.  He lives all the way across the city and is a full time dad, so working out my scheduling and transportation has been an issue.  I need to figure out how to fit everything in, fit in seeing my friends, my family, that sort of thing.  I wish I drove sometimes.

 I am, what they would call, a Borderline in recovery.  What that means is, I still have all the same emotional disregulations and hyper-sensitivities, and whatnot, but I have the skills with which to cope.  This is quite the miracle, for anyone with BPD knows the hell your life becomes with this disorder.  If I keep up on the skills, I should be okay.

I am also, it would seem, a rapidly recovering body-hater.  I have been struggling with body image issues for years, even when I believed logically that there is no reason to feel down about my body, the filters of society and everything I've always been told to believe/think have won out.  The influence is too strong.  Most everything we're told and shown regarding our body size, shape, etc. is bullshit, but how are we to know the difference if that's all (or the majority) of what we've experienced through media and society?

I did a few things, sort of theraputic-type exercises in hopes of changing my stubborn beliefs about my body.  Some of these seemed to have an effect.  Then I attended an eating disorders group where I was taught the science behind weight gain/loss, etc.  It was a life-changing experience.  Why was this information not out there in our society?  It was so eye-opening, I'd never heard these things before.  I felt lied to, and regretful that I had not known these things before it was too late.

Among all the things I learned, one of them was acceptance.  After knowing what I now knew, I had no choice but to accept things as they were, accept myself the way I was, right now.

It sounds depressing for someone who hates their body and has spend most of her life trying to, or stressing out about, losing weight.  Waiting for life until I was the right weight.  Putting things off until I was 'done my diet.'   Not wearing what I really wanted to wear because 'when I lose weight, it will be too big and I don't want to waste money.'  And when the struggle to achieve the impossible inevitably failed, again and again (no wonder we end up hating ourselves) the cycle just continues, getting worse and worse.

 Well, it was depressing.  Incredibly.  But then some things started happening.  I would go shopping and look at all the clothing I wanted to wear, knowing I could buy it now and not have to wait for a later date that would never come.  This was fun, relieving, and very empowering.  If I accepted myself at the size I was at right now, I could stop waiting to live.  Finally.  Sounds dramatic, I know, but it kinda is.

After a while, I noticed I was not getting down about my body nearly as much as before.  This was happening less and less.  I noticed that I had stopped obsessing.  This was a huge deal, like a ton of weight lifted off my shoulders. 

Many other things happened.  I began to notice an increase in confidence.  So did others.  And it's so true what they say - once you start to believe you are beautiful, so will others.

I still have some major issues, but like I said, it's a work in progress like everything else. I'm just very proud to be able to add that on to my list of ginormous life accomplishments.  Most of the things I've been working on endlessly for the past decade and seemingly getting nowhere with have been shifting in big ways in the past year or two.

One of my biggest issues in therapy, oddly enough, was problem solving my inability to follow any sort of routine or schedule.  To do anything productive on a consistent basis.  Much of this had to do with the fact that I've been out of school and work for so long and haven't had to be very responsible and the fact that I have very black/white - all/nothing thinking. 

It seemed like I would never be able to do it, I would never be able to control my life!  I am very easily overwhelmed.  But in the past, I'd say, six months or so, I have been slowly, by trial and error, getting somewhere with this problem.  It is very slow progress, but it is a very big thing to tackle and I am doing it!

Of course there are other areas in which I'm making headway... I just don't give up.  So like I said, life is grand. 

I still have plenty of problems to deal with, but they are a hell of a lot easier to face when many of the other ones are under control.

I better go start dinner n' stuff now... this chair is killing my back :-/



Love M

I'll Fucking Rip Your Throat Out

Do you ever get so irritated you feel that way?  I sure do.  When I'm dealing with stress, especially when I'm out, I sometimes get so irritable I can't stand it.  I become  hypersensitive to noise and my tolerance for stupidity plummets.  The feeling is so severe that I sometimes feel like running and screaming out of whatever room/situation I'm in... or at the very least, saying 'shut the fuck up already!'

I've learned skills to cope with this kind of thing, but when it gets severe like that, it's all I can do to hold on to any semblance of composure, though I'm sure everyone can see the extreme irritability all over my face - I'm a horrible actor.

Tuesdays tend to be the worst days for this as I'm up early and out the door by 9:30am and off to sit for two hours in a room full of other BPD sufferers and have group therapy.  I then have lunch in a crowded hospital cafeteria and head to another type of therapy group for another two hours where there are way more people stuffed into a small room.  If I'm lucky, I get to call it a day at 3pm, but at least every three weeks I have to go downtown to a pub and run a writer's group meeting (after an already long day) from 6:30pm up to sometimes 11-12.   It can be almost impossible some of these days to not go completely insane.

Oh the joys of hypersensitivity...

Thank the gods this Tuesday business isn't permanent O_O


<3 M

The Summer Is Tricksy

I don't like the way my body/mind plays tricks on me during the light half of the year: what I mean is, every spring I start to 'come back to life' - I wake up from depression and low energy, I start to feel good and I start to really live the way I try so hard to live throughout the entire year but never seem to be able to during the dark half of the year.  This is, of course, wonderful.  The bad part about it this particular year is that never before have I worked so hard on improving myself than I have this past year and things are starting to really come together for me, slowly but surely.  My worry is whether or not it is only because it's spring and not because my hard work is paying off.  If it's only because it's spring, then I'm bound to fall once again when November comes around and that would really really suck because I'm so sick of the struggle.  But if it's not just a coincidence, well then that's a huge deal for me.

After severe anxiety, worry, and fear I finally FINALLY started going to the YWCA to exercise.  I almost passed out from panic just going there to sign up.  But something strange happened when I actually went to the gym to work out - as I was working my poor neglected muscles/body, I came to the realization that I was actually enjoying myself... I've told myself my whole life that I hate exercise, that exercise and I never got along, that I was born that way.  This is true in a way: I was, since birth, a very sedentary person, preferring to live in my head rather than do much moving.  But now I realize why I thought I hated exercise so much that it was making it next to impossible to start and keep to any kind of regiment: I have osteoarthritis and fibromylagia - both of those diseases are about pain, pain, and pain.  I'm in constant pain.  So whenever I've tried to exercise, it hurt like a bitch!  No wonder I didn't want to do it.  Turns out though, that if I stay away from the high impact stuff (cause that damages my joints and makes my disease worse) and make sure I'm not hurting myself in the "bad way," then it's actually enjoyable!  It still hurts, but it hurts in the way that it's supposed to hurt, the way exercise hurts any normal healthy person, that wonderful burn that tells you you're making your body stronger.  I actually like exercise, who knew?

I'm very eager now, I want to do so much, so I'm having to force myself to take my time so I don't overdo it and hurt myself or set myself up for failure.  I wish I had discovered this years ago, but you can't change the past.  So far I'm spending an hour at the gym three days a week.  Next week I'm going to start adding swimming (like aqua therapy, water jogging, etc) to my routine.  Eventually I want to be working out at least five days a week and I'd like to do some of the yoga and pilates classes they offer as well.  What a huge breakthrough for me!

I've been terrified for quite a few years now of starting any kind of routine in my life because in the past I have always failed and after so many times failing, you start to feel defeated and hopeless.  I haven't had structure in my life since I was in high school, and even then it wasn't very structured so I'm having to relearn how to do it in almost every aspect of my life.  I have severe "all or nothing" thinking, so that poses a challenge all on its own - it's like learning to live from scratch in a way.  But I have a kick-ass therapist and she suggested having a plan for failure: a simple concept yet I never thought of it.  I always thought I should just be able to pick up and start again if I failed, but it's not always that simple, and having an actual plan to follow is such a great concept and makes me feel more secure in being able to succeed.

So there's that.

In other news, I love plants.  Every single spring for years and years I attempt a garden on my balcony and every single year I kill my plants.  In the past I always thought it was because I end up neglecting them when I get depressed (which is true too), but this year I've realized, sadly, that I kind of don't really like gardening, and I'm kind of not very good at it lol.  I wouldn't say I have a brown thumb, but I'm having to accept that I should stop trying to have a damn garden and just buy the organic produce from those who know what they're doing.  I have a few plants out there now so we'll so how those do, but after this, I'm gonna go steal Sunny's tomatoes ;o)

What else is going on... my best friend is moving to another city :o(  This is really hard for  me, really really hard.  A  year ago I would be in bed crying all day and night planning my own demise over this, but I've grown a fuck-tonne and I will be okay.  It's going to be hard though, he's more than just a best friend, if that makes any sense.  And I guess after a year and half I should meet the girlfriend...  I'm kind of proud of us though - we managed to stay close friends after all the turmoil and heartache and through such difficult circumstances when it really would have been easier ultimately to go our separate ways, we knew the value of our friendship and chose the path less traveled in order to keep each other in our lives.  Who knew it could be done?  The hard stuff is still not over yet, but I think the majority of it is definitely behind us.  Here's hoping the future rewards us!


Love M

Baby Got Back

K I feel like writing so here we go.

On the subject of FAT...

 I am.  duh.  I was a chubby little girl until I hit puberty, at which point I naturally thinned out.  To tell you the truth, I didn't really notice: as far as I know, I thought I was the same size the whole time (chubby or even fat, even when I was not).  So anyway, I thinned out and was pretty damn hot (looking back, of course you never realize it at the time - don't it always seem to go that you don't know what you've got till it's gone?).  I still thought I was fat though, not huge but definitely "big boned," which is why dieting was always in the back of my mind, always always always.  Looking back I can't beleive how sick that was, that I thought I was fat when I was so not: I was damn fine and healthy too.  Nonetheless, I remember putting a picture I'd cut out of a magazine on the fridge of a super skinny model - inspiration to lose weight, I said.

So then what happened?  Well, first of all, at some point along the way ( think I was either thirteen or fifteen but can't remember at the moment) I "discovered" emotional eating.  Well I didn't know that's what it was at the time, but I discovered it nonetheless.  Luckily it wasn't something I did too often and it didn't effect my weight too much, probably because I was still somewhat active and healthy.  It's no coincidence that this discovery of emotional eating came around the same time as I was becoming unknowingly depressed.  I won't go into what was going on and why that added to the depression but just that it was something I was unaware of, I just thought I was weird and super sensitive (I am both those things, but I was also depressed lol).

What's weird about being depressed in my house is that every single person in my family has some mental disorder or another (usually various) but no one said anything to me about possibly being depressed, nothing.  Not sure why, but I've always been a bit bitter about that.  Back to the topic.

Now, when I was somewhere in my mid teens I fell disgustingly deep in love with a good friend of mine.  This caused me a lot of turmoil and inevitably ended in heartbreak for me.  How badly was I hurt?  Let's just say I only just got over it a few years ago, and I am currently twenty-eight.  I got so depressed (still didn't know I had depression btw) that I eventually left my job and school (on the same day) and slowly but surely began shutting the world out, becoming a hermit, pretty much.

And this is where that wonderful thing called emotional eating came in handy.  I embraced that coping mechanism, consciously knowing that I would probably gain weight and not caring (because what's the point in looking and feeling good if you don't see any hope for the future?).  With the mixture of inactivity and emotional eating, I, of course, did start gaining and I still didn't care.  I'm sure I cared on some level but at the time I was too depressed to care.  That's how hopeless I felt.

I eventually got to the point where I started to suspect there might be something wrong going on and made an appointment with the doctor.  This is when I found out that I did indeed have depression.  They diagnosed me with bipolar (because I would go into deep deep depression and then mania) and anxiety and gave me some pills.

By this time I had a full-out eating disorder and was discovering that even though I didn't want to gain weight anymore, it was starting to become out of my control (that's the best way I can put it I think).  And I was still depressed. And I didn't know how to get control of my eating again, I just thought I was weak and pathetic.  I kept gaining weight.

Then, in my early twenties I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia and osteoarthritis.  No wonder physical activity was so hard, I thought I was just lazy.  Try and lose weight when you're severely depressed, have an eating disorder, and have physical disabilities.  Right, sounds fun eh? 

So I became double the size I used to be - the size of two of me.  And trying to lose weight the whole time by dieting dieting dieting and trying to exercise.  The dieting wasn't so hard as the exercise, for obvious reasons, but the mental turmoil one goes through when struggling with body image issues is a sickness I wish upon no one - yoyo dieting, all diets that are extremely unhealthy, for years.  None of them worked.  Diets don't work.  I knew that, I knew it had to be a permanent lifestyle change, but by then I was so deep into the cycle of punishing myself for failing by starving myself, then inevitably binging out of starvation and comfort.  I now understand that this becomes a mental disorder that only gets worse.

And so I kept trying and the harder I tried, the more weight I gained.  I know that doesn't make any sense, but if you're in such a sick cycle it just keeps making you sicker and making things more distorted and eating away at your self-worth and that forbidden comfort food becomes no different than a drug addiction.  The only difference is that you have to eat, which makes it harder to avoid.

And that's why I'm fat.  Mind you, I don't think being fat is necessarily bad - we all have some amount of fat on our bodies, it's just when you have too much that it can take a toll on your health.  If I were able to lose weight (let's hope so!) I wouldn't want to be skinny, I'd want to be pleasantly plump, as they say.  That's just me.

There are many judgments about fat people, and I can understand why: it's a simple scientific formula - burn more calories than you consume and lose weight.  Unfortunately, when an eating disorder develops, when there's severe depression going on, when physical activity is limited, this simple formula is moot.  Don't tell a fat person to just stop eating because you never know if they're like me and get anxiety attacks just walking into the kitchen because they don't want to have to eat but know they need to.

Ultimately I'm not trying to make excuses for myself because that does no one any good, I'm just explaining how I got where I am and why I'm here.

Some days I feel absolutely disgusting, nothing but a blob of grossness that no one would ever want to look at.  In fact I've stayed in many times because I thought no one should have to look at me.  Sick, no?  Some days I actually feel kinda hot, like yes I'm fat but I'm still damn sexy bitches ;o)  Both of those are true depending on who's looking.  So what others think doesn't really matter.  There are plenty of men who love fat chicks, it turns their crank, but at the end of the day, it's me whose opinion matters and I'm not comfortable being as fat as I am.  This goes for aesthetics as well (and especially) health.

While it's true that you can be relatively healthy and fat, there are still things going on inside your body that are not good - things have to work harder because of the extra weight and that puts stress on important processes, resulting in adverse health effects.  Thinking about what my body is going through makes me sad, I want to be healthy.

I was at a level weight for a few years, but in the past year I have gained a lot more weight (yes, another severe heart break by a man I love) and this has accelerated my distorted thinking about eating and my body and all of that good stuff.  But some really good stuff has happened in that time as well:  I finally started seeing a therapist (I know, after being depressed most of my life you'd think I'd have gotten one sooner, but that's a whole other story of woe) and she is fucking awesome.  I've been in a DBT group (Dialectic Behavioural Therapy) as well, which has helped me so much.  And in about two weeks, I will be starting in an eating disorder program at the hospital.

If this doesn't help me, I don't know what will.  I recently went to an information seminar for getting gastric bypass surgery, determined that this was my only hope, I fully intended on going for it.  But after the information session, there was no way, I was really disappointed at finding out what it's really like and that the only thing getting that surgery does is help you lose a bunch of weight really quickly (the way you would on a fad diet) and you have to change your lifestyle by eating right and exercising anyway, the same way you would without the surgery.  There is no difference, well, except for all the serious health risks and permanent sacrifices, etc.  I could get the same results going on a shake diet for a few months and then dieting and exercising - I think I've already tried that lol.

Just learning DBT skills in the past six or so months has already helped me immensely with how I deal with food.  I'm hopeful that the next six months, plus my therapy, plus the next year in an eating disorder group will be just what I need to get healthy.  I'm tired of everything being about my weight.  Just the fact that I would never tell anyone the number on the scale tells me how shameful it makes me feel, cause as some of you know, I'm not the most private person, I tell all! lol  I would like to think, after being rejected by a man, that it's because of my horrible personality and not because I'm fat :op  There is some truth to wanting that, trust me.

I've learned a lot through the  years of being in a fat body...

I've learned the importance of not judging someone by their looks.  I've learned that it's still okay (socially acceptable) to say hateful things to or about a fat person, to discriminate against them for how they look.  I've learned that the media is disgusting.  I've learned that people can eat well and exercise and still be fat.  I've learned that they should stop making polyester/nylon clothing for plus size women because it's the most unflattering, worst possible fabric for anyone with curves, lumps, or bumps.  Oh, and I've also recently learned that there are ingredients in most of the food we buy, such as high fructose corn syrup and MSG that actually effect the body in a way that negates the scientific formula of natural weight loss (calories consumed/calories burned) - it is really sad to find this out because there are some people who try so hard to lose weight and they are unknowingly consuming these additives, not knowing it is likely making their struggle pointless.  I've learned a lot more, but I think I'm about done writing for now.

There was no real point in writing this, I just felt like talking about it so thanks for indulging.

P.S. Fat people need love too please :o)


Love M

It's All Over, Baby Blue

Does this make sense?  I'm antisocial yet lonely all at the same time - it's an oxymoron, I don't understand.  Which brings me to my new year's eve: I assumed I would be spending the night right here with George and the other lonely internet people but was asked by Jodie to hang out.  I deliberated and though I felt that staying here and not "doing anything" would be my best option since I can often feel my sadness/loneliness more acutely when I'm around others (depending on the situations and people) but I decided to fight the urge to avoid.  As much as it can be extremely difficult for someone to get up and go somewhere/do something social when they're feeling down, it usually ends up being a good idea.  So this is why I was "smart" and decided to just go for it.

This turned out to be one of those times where staying in alone would have been the better plan - how was I supposed to know?  So that was annoying.  Although who knows, perhaps I would have gotten myself all sad if I'd stayed in.  The thing is, I've become really good at distracting myself from dwelling on unpleasant emotions, which is why I either wanted to stay home alone, or go somewhere where there were a lot of people and mayhem for a different kind of distraction, or of course, have someone come over and sweep me off my feet so to speak (yes I like to fantasize).

So that was that.  I got through it.  And I quite literally slept straight through January 1st - just woke up around 10pm.

Just in case you're wondering, the reason I'm all melodramatic about the holidays/new year's eve is because it is a time to spend with your loved ones.  Not only do I not have many people in my life, but those I care about most are not with me, but with others.  Therefore the loneliness is exaggerated and who the hell wants that?  But it's done now - let's move on, shall we?

I don't really do new year's resolutions because if I'm going to make a resolution, I don't need to wait until the beginning of the year - that's what Mondays are for ;o)  Obviously I need to work on relationships and lack there of and of course my health, which fucking sucks and drives me crazy and I wish I could trade this body in for a fresh healthy one damnit.  Not that I hate my body, but that I hate how malfunctioned it is.  As for hating my body, I'm pretty sure I've got BDD but I'm hoping some stuff I'm doing is gonna help that.  The brain is a crazy/powerful mother fucker.

Anyway, there's always stuff to work on - that's what we do in life, we grow and then we die and hopefully we enjoy the process.

In other news, I just found out that I have been wearing the wrong bra size for almost a decade, which explains a lot - wtf.  So I'm actually a DD or E cup, NOT a D cup.  Damnit.  Time to get some new bras.  Time to get all new clothes actually, since my lovely cat George thinks it hilarious to cover all my clothing in his white fur so that I can never get a date and become an old, lonely cat lady.  I swear to god he has some magical fur that makes it impossible to remove!  He's lucky I love him.

Enough rambling for now, I'll be back when I have something good to say.


Love M.

P.S. The new issue of Buttercup is here - join, read, socialize, and love it.  New articles added daily.

Emotional Hemophilia

I'm using notepad to write this due to LiveJournal having erased my damn blog the other day, right when I was done typing it, but before, of course, I had a chance to post.

I currently have zero drama going on in my life (thank gods) and nothing immediately worrisome or depressing going on.

That feels nice. Freeing.

Now I'm left with me to deal with! I'm doing a good job, considering, but I have a nagging feeling of... I don't even know... it's just unsettling.

Like, what's going to happen now?

Anxiety about the next thing that will trigger me because I know too well it kills me everytime: it's very black and white - right now I feel happy and hopeful... tomorrow, depending on what happens, I could want to kill myself (knock on wood).

A feeling of being lost, having no footing, being unsure of my self/life, feeling scattered and unfocused.

Oh the joys of mental illness.

The only explanation that comes to mind is that I'm undergoing such drastic change in my ways of thinking, behaving, and believing that I'm not sure who or what I'm becoming... unfamiliar territory.

That's an awesome thing. If I'm wrong, then I really don't know what's up. Do anxiety disorders have to be triggered by situations or can anxiety arise on its own accord?

That could be it. Who knows.

In other, not so unrelated news, I'm finally starting the DBT group next Tuesday. I've been on the waiting list for a couple of years for this! DBT is apparently the make or break therapy for people with Borderline Personality Disorder.

I used to be very bitter about not having had this therapy before... before any damage to my relationship(s) was done. But now I realize that whatever happened, happened because I needed to go through certain things and to learn certain lessons.

A bitter-sweet realization, but better late than never.

Anyhew, it's a thirteen month long intensive group therapy - two hours a week with a group and one hour a week with my therapist one on one. Lots of homework in between.

I'm really excited but a little nervous, to be honest, about walking into a room full of women who have the same illness I have... I wouldn't even be able to handle one of me, let alone a group of me! But I know I'm just being silly ;o)

Along with the DBT stuff, I'm also working with an Al-Anon sponsor and have been going to meetings.

Since I've started doing this, I've learned so much about myself, others, and a lot of things that apply to my life as both a person affected by alcohol and a person with BPD.

All I can say is I'm growing daily and my life is already so much better after only a few weeks.

I can only guess how much growing I'll do for the next thirteen months as I do the DBT and Al-Anon... they're very similar actually.

Okay, enough mental stuff! I'll re-touch on some of the stuff I wrote the other day that LJ erased...

In March, I asked my subscribers to vote for my friends sunnybananas and 4bit4 (aka Sunny and Blake Crittenden) in the Hypercube contest.

The contest was a seemingly cool attempt to market their 2009 Nissan Cube using nothing but social media (twitter).

Fifty creative Canadians had a seemingly fair chance at winning and Sunny and Blake were among those fifty chosen.

I'm a lazy gal, so if I didn't believe the Crittendens to be exceptionally worthy or winning a car, I would never have posted about it on my blog, or spammed multiple online venues seeking votes for them.

They worked their asses off for months during the contest, I know how much time, effort, and energy was spent on their part: putting their lives on hold in the belief that this was a fair contest.

So by the time the judges were ready to announce the winners, most of us assumed either Sunny or Blake, or both of them, would be coming home from the event in a brand new car.

When that didn't happen, we were left scratching our heads.

These two entries in Encyclopedia Dramatica explain quite well why shit went down the way it did: A simple case of the worst execution of a marketing competition I've ever heard of, to put it lightly.

http://encyclopediadramatica.com/Hypercube
http://encyclopediadramatica.com/Hypercube_Aftermath

Read it, it's a good one.

Speaking of Sunny: You're one tough lady! I'm glad you're doing okay (considering) and I hope they gave you a strong enough cocktail to not be in too much discomfort, and to hopefully get a decent high ;o) You are very loved <3

Completely random thought: I wish there was a healthy diet that didn't require counting, weighing, portioning, etc. of the food.

And shame on you, Winking Judge, for having the worst service I've possibly ever had the other night:

• I arrived around 6:45pm, ordered a drink, and sat down.
• The waitress eventually came over and asked if I wanted to order food, to which I responded that I would wait a bit, since my friend had yet to arrive.
• At 7pm, friend arrived.
• At 7:45pm, we were both wondering when in the world the waitress was going to come and take his order (yes he'd been there 45 minutes and no one had served him!).
• So he decided to go to the bar and get his drink.
• At about 9:30pm after we'd both long finished our one drink of the night and felt quite invisible and disgruntled (and hungry!), we concluded that we were not welcome.
• I went to pay for my drink (no tip of course) and the waitress actually forgot that my friend had already paid for his drink.
• We left, puzzled and not buzzed.

So folks, from 6:45pm to 9:30pm (two and a half hours I believe), we were approached by the waitress once and once only. She never came to our table. The place was empty. She was sitting and reading a newspaper!!! Horrid.

Anyway, to top off the lovely service, I went to the washroom and there was no fucking toilet paper in the stall.

We are going somewhere else next time.


Love M