Self knowledge avails me…something, actually

One of the lessons I’m learning in my recovery is to understand my brain’s wiring.  This is actually a point on which I disagree with that recovery adage, “Self knowledge avails us nothing.”  I understand what “they” mean — I can certainly point to many failed attempts at my own recovery, in which I did way too much self-analysis yet took curiously little action to put that information to use.  I assume the adage is a warning against thinking that just because you know yourself, just because you’ve gained some insight as to “why” you do things a certain way or that you’re, say, an inherently anxious person….that suddenly you’ll magically stop engaging in your destructive behaviors, based on this knowledgge alone.  That, I get.  But I would amend the adage to say, “Self knowledge ALONE avails us nothing.”  Because isn’t Step 1 the quintessential demonstration of self knowledge?  “We admitted we were <fill in the blank>, that our lives had become unmanageable.”  This identifies the problem, does it not?  So even with the most basic of applications of the 12-step model, you have (in my opinion) self knowledge kicking the whole thing off.

Anyway, my point is actually not to argue that philosophic departure of mine, but rather, to offer up a nugget of self knowledge I’ve acquired, and in fact to comment on the peace of mind it’s bringing to realize this, and to accept it.  And….maybe to raise the question, is this a common trait among addicts?  Or at the very least, a common trait among those with eating disorders?

I’m realizing more and more just how easily my mind gets overwhelmed.  Heck, just going to Word Press’s home page can be overwhelming.  The vast number of blogs out there, for some reason, makes my brain go “tilt”!  In my work, I’m often having to attend to multiple projects at once, ones that evolve and change constantly.  Being one who likes a clear, step-by-step action plan, having to just perform the next indicated action — geeze, sometimes even just CHOOSING the next indicated action — in a work situation for which there often aren’t such clearly delineated blueprints — can paralyze me.  At the same time, it energizes me, it’s part of what I enjoy about my chosen path.  Weird?

It’s one more insight as to why I used to abuse food so.  Because my brain is NOT a comfortable place to be when I’m experiencing those feelings.  I’m learning to just accept that this is the way I am, and to either ignore the minor panic and keep on keeping on (a strategy I have found very helpful), or turn to actions that help me to break up and dispense the panic, give my mind something else to latch onto.  But without my program, without this new outlook and these tools to counter those feelings, I can see why I found it necessary to use food as a means of escaping and “zoning out” when the brain cramped.  But I also wonder, is this a common hallmark of addicts?  Are we more sensitive to sensory input, or information bombardment, or trying to think through all possibilities (and of course, think through a solution to each), and therefore create this madness from which we’re almost compelled to seek some quick-fix respite?  I wonder.

Anyway, that’s the musings of today.

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Creating drama where there is none: Is that part of the addictive personality?

I know I’m not the first to report feeling a bit uneasy — fidgety — when things are going well.  There’s that sense of, well, what do I do with myself now?  Without a fire to put out, I can certainly funnel my energies into more constructive endeavors, but they don’t always have the same “pull” or urgency that, say, a terrible food hangover commands.  It’s sort of like when I have a big project, goal, or major event for which I’m working very hard.  There’s often a more clear-cut course of action that keeps me busy, allows me to get into that wonderful zone.  And when it’s over — when the curtain falls, as it were, I’m always left with a couple of days (at least) of a low-level depression, a sense of discombobulation, even a feeling of loss — even (or maybe especially?) if the event or goal was reached with great joy and excitement.  I feel temporarily adrift without a rudder or a sense of where I’m supposed to be going, and it’s often accompanied with a tinge of loneliness.

I think our news, and dare I say, our culture’s fixation on drama and the negative, further fuels this, even if the inclination is inside me already.  You can’t visit a news site without getting hit by headlines informing us of so-and-so’s marriage breaking up, so-and-so getting arrested for drunk driving, so-and-so being sent to rehab for the fifth time, etc.  Yet the majority of even the worst down-and-out situations no doubt have periods in between of recovery, turning their life around, making changes that are constructive to their happiness and that of their loved ones.  But of course, that’s boring.  Who really wants to read, “Three years later and so-and-so is still happily following her new way of eating, with just a 10-lb. weight adjustment”?

My point being, I’m finding myself in a strange place at the moment.  My recovery is going splendidly — I’m not afraid to write that anymore (I used to wonder if doing so would jinx it).  Sure, I still have my challenges; I think that’ll be the name of the game for the rest of my life.  But the change I have experienced over the last year and a half, but especially the last 3 or so months, is stunning.  It makes me wonder how I would feel if I had the chance to “visit” my headset of, say, even this past February or March.  Would I even recognize the thought process anymore?  I have optimism for the future, and yet a solid sense of being in the present, which keeps me from projecting and getting overwhelmed.  “Just take the next indicated action” and “Play the tape all the way through to the end” have been my two constant guides in my daily life, and the relief and progress this has brought has been astounding.

Nevertheless, there’s that uneasyness.  How do I recognize complacency?  When things are going well, it can be difficult to stay as vigilant, which means I must renew my commitment to my program even more vigorously.  At the same time, however, like all good habits, doesn’t there come a point in which at least SOME of that intensity can be released a bit?  I’m trying to strike that balance — the balance between keeping those activities in place that foster honesty and the actions that have given me the recovery I’m currently enjoying….and allowing myself to release some of the measures that I may not need as vigorously, so that I can now turn my attention toward greater life goals, such as growing my business and traveling more.

I think, more than anything, I’m slowly realizing and accepting that I don’t need drama, that life does not need to “wow” me on a constant basis.  So I don’t need to create drama in order to give myself a project.  I will continue to find enjoyment and satisfaction with the middle ground.  The middle ground, I’m learning, is NOT mediocrity, as I had feared.  On the contrary, there is a great deal of opportunity to take great pride and put out my best effort in everything I do.  It just so happens that what I’m doing is less dramatic, yet slowly but surely it brings amazing gifts to my life and to that of others.

So the lesson of the moment is….I can give up certain obvious behaviors and experience some important relief.  But the more gradual, almost intangible changes that are equally important are those slow, internal shifts in thinking.

Bottom line:  Enjoy the lack of drama when I’m lucky enough to be in such a state.  And yet as I transition into a more “sustaining the changes” phase (vs. “making the changes” phase), I need to be watchful for signs that I’m romanticizing the thought of having a fire to put out.  My mind can be rudderless sometimes, that’s okay, the feeling will pass if I just breathe through it.  The next indicated action — my next (more constructive) project will surface soon enough, when my HP wants to present it to me.

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What a recovery-centric vacation feels like: More than I could have imagined

There’s been a gap since my last post, and that gap was largely due to an energizing and relaxing vacation that we took at the end of July/beginning of August.  It was my first vacation since I’d made some major changes in my recovery several months ago, and not wanting to disrupt the progress I’ve made since then, I debated much about how best to orient my eating.  Vacations, as they often are for many of us (everyone, not just those with addiction problems), have frequently offered an opportunity to break out of my normal eating patterns and foods, though for the most part I have always still counted calories and monitored my eating closely even when on vacation.  In fact, contrary to the common m.o., I have often used my vacations as a way of IMPROVING my eating, of breaking bad habits and cleaning things up a bit, the hope being that I could then keep some of these improvements going upon my return.  And predictably, some of them do stick, while others slip by the wayside almost instantly.  Funny how the stresses of everyday life make it infinitely more challenging to follow through with certain eating habits that were near effortless in the carefree environment of a ski trip or Florida getaway!

Having said that, the last several years have brought a frustrating change to my vacations.  Inevitably, the trip would include at least one “horrible eating day.”  And what I mean by “horrible eating day,” I mean that switch would be flipped, I’d be off and running with allowing myself an eating binge, only to find that fulfilling that urge is much more difficult with the limited options and opportunities of the particular trip we’ve chosen.  You might think, how is that possible?  When do you find MORE indulgences at your instant access than on vacation?  Not for us.  We don’t do cruises, we generally don’t do over-the-top restaurants.  Heck, we don’t often eat out; much of our meals are either packed by us or prepared back at our hotel or lodge or cabin.  So for the most part, the options in terms of what’s available are very limited.  You might have a camp or hotel store, with just basic groceries.  Or little eateries such as a coffee shop or deli, or gift shops with those ubiquitous tins of “gourmet” cookies, bags of themed trail mixes, that kind of thing.  In other words, God help you if you decide to go on the prowl for a satiating eating splurge, you’re likely to find yourself having to construct some “meal” comprised of microwave popcorn, a handful of granola bars, an overpriced bag of saltwater taffy, and a can of smoked almonds.  At  least, that’s the kind of desperado I became.  Talk about pitiful and incomprehensible demoralization.  A bloated stomach, crushed self esteem, and not a drop of satiety to be found.  Now granted, that would usually be but one day out an otherwise wonderful trip.  But it would be enough to create a lasting memory stamp, and enough to send pangs of fear in me as this trip approached.

So…..I made the decision to shake things up.  Take an entirely different view of the trip, expectations of the eating, etc.  I decided that this trip should just be another week of my same eating.  I have evolved to a current roster of foods that is working extremely well for me right now, so why futz with that?  So I packed every single item that I’ve been eating very regularly, happily, and successfully (the ones that were perishable were purchased at a local grocery store upon our arrival), and made my peace with letting my menu remain exactly consistent with my “quotidian” life.  No special “travel” foods, not even the seemingly innocuous ones like snack pack cereals.  The plan would be that the vast majority of my meals would be prepared at the hotel and eaten on the same schedule as at home.  My husband, God bless him, was in full support of this, knowing the stability it would bring to our trip.  I did anticipate needing to make a possible exception or two — perhaps go out to eat once or twice.  But we discussed the strategy even for this, and decided that the safest bet would be to have me select more or less the exact same foods (or as close to them as possible) as those I was otherwise eating the rest of the time.

Boring?  Perhaps, a bit.  But that was kinda the point, I wanted to keep my food “quiet” so that the rest of the trip, all the wonderful sights, smells, and experiences, would be “loud.”  I knew that the moment I let the thought of deviating from my current habitual plan of eating, my brain would be off and running, and it’s all I would think about, what special treat would I find and allow myself.  That sets off a madness I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy.

What I hoped for was a sane trip.  What I didn’t know is the enormous PEACE this approach would bring.  Knowing that whatever food I encountered — and we were in a tourist-heavy vacation destination, the delectable delights were around every corner, I could dismiss it as not being on the list “for this particular trip,” allowed me to breathe, to even look and appreciate the food, even as I knew I would be coming nowhere near to touching it.  I could look forward to my oases — my own meals, sit down and enjoy them, then go back to living the trip.  WHAT a miracle this was.  I now have a template for how to orient future trips.  Another success on this path of healing.

And since I know you’re probably curious, not only did I not gain any weight on this trip, I came back a little bit leaner.  NOT the goal, in fact I was quite surprised, for even within the boundaries of this wonderful vacation-eating strategies, there were a couple of days that I had made the decision to prepare a larger meal than my norm.  But there you go, it just goes to show, don’t panic, do what your Higher Power would have you do, stay active, keep close to your program, and let yourself be curious about the outcome.  You just never know!

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