From novelty to “the rest of my life”: Keeping the momentum moving forward

Not a long post today, only that I’m continuing with my abstinence and ecstatic about this, and am finding a new phase is opening up as I continue.  Sure, there was the glee of actually making it through the holidays abstinently, but now it’s “back to business.”  Or rather, it’s “to business,” since I never hit this degree of recovery, for it to be called “business.”  I’m appreciating that the longer I stay abstinent, while at the same time working a vigorous program, the more I’m seeing the life I was preventing unfold.  It’s exciting and scary at the same time (if I had a dime for every time I’ve said that sentence…).  What I’m noticing is, first, some of the “gems” of recovery, ones that I heard about but didn’t fully understand initially, are presenting themselves as experiential realities.  What a miracle.

But what I’m especially noticing is how there seems to be a point in which the thrill and challenge and emotional transition that those initial 6+ months entailed….are fading and giving way to a new phase.  I can see how this can be a point in which people lose their focus, because it’s no longer new, and many of those initial decisions and processes of creating a routine….well those have been made, and the routine(s) are under way.  Sure, there’s an ongoing evolution, but it’s unfolding much more gradually.  The addict in me faces the temptation of wanting to “tweak,” and I’m having to learn the art of letting go, and living by the words, “If you like what you’re getting, keep doing what you’re doing.”  So now the challenge comes in, being in acceptance that I no longer get to spin my wheels around the minutiae of my food plan, what program lies out there that could help me, or why I do what I do.  Which means now my attention must be turned to the person my HP intends for me to be!  It feels gratifying, but there’s still some sense of “loss” involved.

At the same time, I’m appreciating that I’m feeling the flow of GOOD habits becoming a part of my life, which means there’s an ease in going about my day, and knowing what to do next, if only I surrender to it and not take back my will and start second-guessing it all.

You know, you tend to hear one of two stories:  You hear stories of people still caught up in the depths of their eating disorder, or you hear about those who have recovered with some time under their belt.  I feel like I’m in that in-between zone, and it’s interesting to watch this portion of the story unfold.  It’s not as clear-cut, it’s sometimes somewhat mundane at first glance (i.e. no news = good news), and yet it’s really the meat of recovery.  I can stand up and give all sorts of testimonials as to how great life is, and it is, but the real story lies in the day-to-day work, which I sometimes think gets lost in the general telling of what life is like, or how a person got to where they’re currently at.

Anyway, that’s where I’m at now.  I hope this entry can be of help to someone.

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The annoyance of “by the skin of my teeth” and “close shave” successes

It’s been almost two months since my last post.  I’m guessing that lack of posting generally signifies one of two things:  either 1) great success at the moment (no impetus to post) or 2) lots of struggles at the moment (no desire to post).  I suppose there’s also an Option 3) extraordinarily busy (not enough interest to post to overcome time impediments).  Happily, I’m falling into the first category.  It’s almost scary to write this, as I know the dangers that befall a person when success is high — so too is the risk of complacency or freaking out into self-sabotage.  But indeed, I am experiencing a degree of recovery as never before, and God willing, I have every intention to keep that going.  Definitely not without challenges.  It amazes me, how long it can be since I ate certain foods, and I can still have thoughts about them.  But I deal with those thoughts with a perpetual, “Not for now.  But I can revisit my food list later, and maybe add them back then.”  How funny, the mind games we must play!

Of course, recovery encompasses — and is happening because of — so much more than just the food management, per se.  If anything, I can see how so many will say, the food management is almost more the byproduct of other actions and measures, rather than one of the tasks in itself.  I’m not sure that’s entirely true, but I will definitely concur that it’s because of all those “other things” that  I have made the strides that I have, and not because, say, I found the “perfect” food plan or am taking a particular “magic” supplement.

To say I’m grateful doesn’t even begin to scratch the surface of my happiness with my recovery.  But there’s a nitpicky annoyance that has been with me all along, at least ever since I first began to pursue recovery from my eating disorder, lo so many years ago.  And that’s my perfectionist mind’s kneejerk rejection of those days in which success/abstinence is kept “by the skin of my teeth.”  Probably anyone who has worked on recovery from either compulsive overeating or some other eating issues knows what I’m talking about.  There are those days, thankfully, in which I am graced with an abstinence and fluidity of conduct that feels very solid, very natural, like a well-oiled machine.  I work my program, do what I need to do, and prepare and enjoy my meals with great ease and satisfaction.  Days like that feel like, “Yes, boy, have I made progress!”  Then there are days like yesterday, and into today.  Drove husband to the airport over the weekend for a business trip.  Woke up yesterday morning to a flat tire.  Stress-stress-stress.  I’ve never had to take my car in for repair; normally my husband gets the honors.  On top of that, it was an exceptionally busy work day.  I also had some very positive, exciting things happen to me, concerning my work and accolades from it.  In other words, a very, very intense and hectic day.  I knew such a day is just ripe for feeling triggered, and in the past it almost certainly would have culminated in a huge binge, to take the edge off my adrenaline.  But I worked the tools of my program more intensively than ever, and managed to emerge from the day unscathed — meals went as planned, my recovery and abstinence intact.  What a wonderful feeling of accomplishment that was.

But I also knew that today would be tough.  I had a much lighter schedule, would be working out of the house much of the day.  Dangerous, because this represents the “day after” a hyper-frenetic day like yesterday.  And living up to its promise, it was a tough day to stay on task.  I believe that the day will finish on a positive note — another abstinent day, and if it does, I expect tomorrow to be much easier, as I will not only be busy (as in, out of the house, away from isolating busy), but by then it will be two days removed from Monday’s unexpected twists and turns, which means probably things will calm down to their normal levels for me — “things” being my emotions, my body’s physiology, my focus, etc.  So I just need to get through dinner without picking up extra food.

So good news, assuming this all goes as planned.

But it annoys me.  It annoys me that today was as hard as it was to get through.  If I had a dime for every time I had a thought that involved the desire to eat “out of today’s box,” I’d be able to retire right now.  God willing if I make it to bed abstinent, it will not be a gracefully abstinent day; I will be abstinent “by the skin of my teeth.”  I don’t like this, even as I realize that this is simply the way life works.  Some days are effortless, some are effortful, some in between.  That’s progress, I suppose.  At one time, I would have had a meltdown for sure, dismissing a day like this as “inauthentic,” as if the fact that it involved shades of white-knuckling, means that it doesn’t “count,” that it’s not “real” recovery but just me proving that I can hold on for dear life under duress.

But I realize, even as I type this, that all that matters is that I remain abstinent.  For today, it doesn’t matter how “close” I came to eating out of order, it doesn’t matter that it wasn’t a smooth sail.  All that matters is that I remain abstinent.  Sure, I can continue to work my program, work the steps, pray to my HP, work the tools, and hope that in so doing, I strengthen my recovery so that days like this aren’t as intensely challenging, or at least that the frequency is reduced, but I have to accept that there may continue to be days that surface such as this, which means in order to stay recovered, I just need the willingness to deal with the discomfort and accept that my abstinence “pearls” will not always be silky smooth or rock-solid, that they will sometimes look quite “messy” or feel rather choppy.  But I have to assume that it’s in dealing with these very days that I will make the greatest growth.  So I must embrace them the way I embrace those lovely, practically-on-autopilot abstinent days.

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There’s something magic in taking action

I’m getting to the point in my recovery in which I’m starting to see what speakers mean when they talk about that “I can’t put my finger on it” factor that causes certain things to “work” in recovery.  I can’t tell you how many times I had heard the various suggestions, whether they be to pray or to spend some time each morning reading some literature or remaining in regular contact with a sponsor or writing down what you plan to eat or….you get the idea….and wondered how could it help?  Or put it this way, how could it help in the way the person described, which is to say, to either stop a trigger in its path or help one to not want to eat compulsively in the first place?  Especially with my eating history:  I certainly have been a veteran of variations of those kinds of actions over the years, and although I will agree that vigilance in certain areas have undoubtedly helped me (if not for my food and exercise journals, daily calorie counting, weighing and measuring my food, I know I would have escalated to much higher, unchecked amounts of food in my regular eating and found myself in an even worse situation than I already was), I can’t say I had experienced the kind of “Eureka, it works!” effect that they were describing.

But being I was experiencing some small success in my program, and given the many different ideas offered up by speakers — including ones that didn’t seem so scary to me and in fact sounded appealing, something in me said hey, why not try it.  What’s the worst that can happen?  You discover no change.

Did I instantly feel a change?  Not really.  But it’s amazing how these things build on themselves.  One small change — for example, a commitment to make the bed every day — led to another, such as making sure I give myself the gift of a soothing shower at least once a day.  Time was set aside to read literature daily, and to allocate the time/option to write, when needed.  I made sure to stay in touch with my sponsor, and to stay in touch with myself, to stay honest about what I’m eating and what’s best left off the menu right now.  I began communicating with my Higher Power, which at first felt a bit esoteric, but eventually I found ways to find an authentic means of interacting with a Higher Power of my understanding.  Brick by brick.

And all I can say is, it does work.  I’m increasingly convinced that one way it works is because it’s not necessarily the action in itself (though sometimes I think it is), but the fact that I’m DOING it shows a willingness for me to change.  I’m taking an action toward behaving differently, rather than just endlessly “hoping” or “willing myself” into a desired behavior.  Could it also be a sense of self esteem?  That is, by taking these actions, I feel better about myself, and the desire to hurt my body with food it doesn’t need is diminished if not even repellent?  Maybe.

But that’s kind of my point:  I think the whole thing is counterintuitive.  You just can’t comprehend in advance how it is that this action, whatever it is, is somehow going to be of help.  Perhaps that’s part of the disease — the inability to appreciate what such actions can do for you.  I don’t know.  All I know is, if I go ahead and take the action anyway, regardless of whether I think it will help or how I think it will help, by golly, it helps!  And it usually appears to have helped for an entirely different reason than I would have assumed.

Here’s an example:  I’m on my way home from my work.  It’s quite late, and I still haven’t had dinner yet.  I love this job, but it stresses me.  By the time the day is done, even if I’ve had a great day, I’m keyed up.  In fact, if anything, the better the day went, the more hyper I am, which means the more I can be triggered into trying to alleviate that excess emotion with food.  I feel my throat tightening, and I’m feeling increasingly convinced that the meal I have planned for myself, that only hours ago was something I was genuinely excited about, is not going to be enough.  I arrive home feeling ravenous — partly genuinely so, as I’m long overdue for a meal (unfortunately, certain of my work days are just set up that day, I can’t change that).  On top of that, it’s not long before bedtime, so I’m also tired.  It’s as though my recovery immune system is weakened, which is like putting the welcome mat out for my eating disorder to strike.

Ah, but I now have a tool that’s served me well.  The shower.  I have already made plans to take a nice, long shower after work.  This will help calm me down, and it’s also a pleasure that soothes me in a way that’s very similar to what food used to do.  After my shower, I’m planning to lie down quietly for 2 minutes or so, eyes closed, to decompress one step further.  THEN I will calmly, slowly, prepare my meal.

In the old days, I guarantee you, those plans would have gone out the door.  I’d have made some excuse to myself as to why it’s not going to work anyway, and besides, it’s already late, I really need to eat, I deserve to eat, blah blah blah.  And gee, suprise surprise, the unpleasant but predictable outcome would have come about, like clockwork.  Another awful night.

But now, even if I have those voices (though they’re much quieter these days) trying to talk me out of those “pointless” strategies, I now know better than to listen.  I ignore the voices, and even as I honestly believe at that moment that it’s not going to “work,” I go through with the plans for my shower, anyway.  That’s my commitment, I tell myself.  My job is to take the action, let HP take over from there, and let go of the outcome.

And I tell you, something happens right about the middle of the shower.  Suddenly, those voices fade.  I don’t usually notice when it’s happening, only when suddenly I realize that several minutes have gone by and the urge is gone!  Suddenly I’m smelling the fragrance of my soap, I’m feeling the warm water cascading over my body, feeling comforted and enveloped in this safe cocoon.  Stepping out of the shower and into my fluffy robe, my mind is quiet, the way one feels when they’re humming to themselves while performing some task.  After lying on my back as scheduled, I take a deep breath and proceed to take my time in my dinner preparation.  This can sometimes be a hard transition, as by now I do have genuine hunger and it can leave me feeling impatient to eat.  But if I keep relaxed and take my time, do a meticulous job in pulling out my utensils and ingredients and turning on something nice as background sound, I soon find myself relaxing back into the “zone.”  99% of the time, the meal proceeds as planned, the rest of the night goes lovingly, and I’m nearly tearful with gratitude as I go to bed and feel my body lulling itself to sleep with a comfortable stomach.

I’m not hear to say that this measure is foolproof, or that this one measure alone is what thwarts the lurking problem.  On the contrary, I know I cannot become so complacent, and I do believe that it’s probably more an accumulation of many more actions than just this one that leads to the outcome I’ve described.  But what I am saying is, I could not have predicted that these kind of actions would help me with my disease, nor can I tell you exactly WHY they help.  Why does the shower seem to do the trick, and not the drive home while listening to a favorite radio show?  Why do I seem to get better recovery when I’m regularly praying to my HP?  Why is staying cognizant of the steps, and continuing to work them a factor in keeping me in my recovery?  It defies my mind’s ability to understand or explain.

So yes, I can only chalk it up to…..there’s some magic going on here.

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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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Letting go of TV: The relief this is bringing

Right off the bat I need to clarify that I have not completely stopped watching TV.  But in recent months especially, I have finally made good on my desire to drastically cut down on my TV watching, and hope to keep this trend going.  TV, like excess food eaten compulsively, stopped “working” a long time ago, and in itself became this bizarre “no, that’s not quite it, <switch the channel>…no, that’s not it, either, <click>….etc.” addiction.  You know that image of the rat persisting in pushing the button to get the pellet, even though the pellet no longer comes out regularly, only once in a great, great, great while?  That’s pretty much the point I’d reached with TV.  I don’t know if the programming that’s on has shifted enough so that there’s just not a whole lot of options that interest me….or if it’s that I have changed enough that my mind just can’t get “sucked” into that “zone” when watching (maybe a little of both?), but I sometimes think my ED and TV habits fueled each other in a peculiar way, especially as both stopped working for me.  It’s like I’d get so frustrated that I couldn’t find anything to watch while eating (the two for me went hand in hand), that I would eat more…..and the more I found that excess food, even what I would call those “big ticket item” foods, didn’t succeed in putting me in that “zone,” the more I kept reverting back to the same stupid reruns or movies that I once found extremely gratifying to watch.  It was a horrible habit cycle to be caught up in, especially since I stopped being able to experience that temporary satiety I was so desperately seeking.

So a few months ago I finally said “Enough!” with TV.  Watching TV during the day has not even been a temptation for years — too busy with work — so no issues there.  But where I’m vulnerable is in preparing my evening meal, watching TV while eating dinner, and then keeping that drone of the TV on as “background amusement” for the rest of the evening.  I remain eternally grateful that we agreed to not have a TV in the bedroom, so thank God once we’re in bed there’s full sanctuary from TV there.  But those evening hours were a problem, for many reasons.

Initially, I simply unplugged the kitchen TV and set it down on the floor.  Easy enough.  I then brought a portable radio/CD player in the kitchen, and used it for mealtime (I still like to have some music or talking at that time, at least most of the time).  If I found a good podcast, I’d pull my computer into the kitchen and listen to that during the meal prep and dinner.  I also began to try timing dinner so that both my husband and I could at least spend part of that time together.  Our work schedules, unfortunately, often leave us having to eat separately, so rearranging things so that at least 3-4 times a week we have that dinner time together has certainly helped.  Amazing how enjoyable it is when you can actually talk to someone during the meal — DUH!

The change in me just from this one action has been profound.  I think the landscape of TV has a more powerful influence on my thinking than I like to admit.  I mean, I’ve always been only too aware of the bombardment of images that create a “beauty ideal” against which I can’t possibly compete (because they’re not real, in the sense that these images are created with the help of lighting, makeup artists, hours spent on hair, post-production magic, etc.).  And as you can probably sense just from the tone of my description, I’ve also been extremely vocal about it.  I think my favorite is when you watch a TV commercial for some outlandishly rich food, and you have a woman who looks like a runway model, popping the item into her mouth with this carefree smile, followed by a facial expression typically only produced, say, when you’re receiving a delightful neck rub.  So NOT reality, and yet there must be some part of me that absorbs that message and uses it as a weapon against my better judgment!  But I think there are many other, more insidious, effects from watching TV.  I don’t even know where to start with them, partly because I think there are so many, partly because I probably can’t fully comprehand them all.  All I know is, without TV, I swear it’s like I can feel my mind “breathing,” as though somehow having TV is like having to breathe in a smoke-filled room.  You can do it, and maybe from time to time you get a reprieve by stepping outside or sticking your head out the window (and even then you’re still stuck with the particulates in your lungs from breathing in that smoke), but there’s this sutle suppression, even suffocation that keeps you from really feeling the health of a full breath.  Yet if you get out of town and spend a week outside in fresh air, you feel your breath just opening up, and even the air looks clearer.  This is my best description of how I feel without TV.

Now, I’m still working on striking a balance.  From time to time, I have gone ahead and “tested the waters” — turned on a favorite TV show (typically one that’s been recorded) and let it play during dinner, especially on days when I get home quite late and feel that need for “brain candy decompression.”  But most of the time, I end up turning it off halfway through, as it’s just not doing the trick at all.  I think the more I stay on this path, the more I will move from even needing to think about turning to TV — if that’s what I want (right now it is).

As for after dinner, I don’t really watch TV anymore, but I can’t impose this on my husband, who still enjoys a few select shows and the occasional Netflix instant download.  So for the most part, I simply turn my attention to something else while TV is on.  I do sometimes ask him if he wouldn’t mind our not having TV on at all, and he’s been extremely gracious in obliging me when I ask.  If he really did want to watch something, of course I would let it go, but I think much of the post-dinner TV is just another habit, which is why he has no problem turning it off.  And truth be told, sometimes it’s nice to pop in a favorite DVD and let it play while we work on our evening activities.  There are a couple of travelogues that we both love, and have seen so many times we could lip-synch the presenter’s commentaries, but for some reason, we still enjoy having them on.  I’m not worrying about that — this is an experiment to improve the quality of our lives, not to get a “perfect report card” for “no TV watching”!

I hope to keep going with this.  Knowing how furiously addicted I was to “those same shows and movies” for so long, it’s required some creativity to find other outlets, more gratifying outlets, to take the place of TV.  But I think I can continue to build on this.  The thing that’s helping me is realizing that these reruns are the past.  The past is done.  If I want to continue to move forward with my life, to become whoever it is I’m becoming, I have to let go of the past, which includes clinging to the same shows that have long since expired for me.  I have to trust that I will continue to find new sources of amusement, and that they are not likely to be TV but something else.  It’s actually exciting, like a whole new adventure of discovery!

And best of all, no crummy commercials to have to fast-forward through!

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“Play the tape all the way through to the end”

I recently heard this piece of advice on the subject of staying on path with recovery, the idea being that if you find your mind toying with picking up your addictive substance or behavior of choice, and you find yourself falling into the “trap” rationalization of “I’ll just have one” or “I’ll just do a little bit” or whatever…..that you “play the tape all the way through to the end” in your mind.  What has happened every (or almost every) other time you have tried this?

I just love this!  I’m finding it’s a great — if sobering — way to keep myself grounded in reality, and not in wishful or magical thinking.  I’m also finding it a useful tool in other thought processes.  Like, the other day, I was out for a run, and found myself feeling a bit self-conscious (sigh, some body image issues are tough to die) about my legs.  Whereas they are normally very lean and muscular, if I’ve consumed too many carbs or too much sodium on a given day, I can see a “softening” to them the next day.  Given that my legs have always been my best feature, this distresses me, which is ridiculous, I know, and for many reasons.  But still, it does.  I feel more timid when I go out for a run, like somehow the world is noticing the momentary change.  I know, how self-centered can you get!  But now I’m using the “play the tape” cue to walk myself out of that thinking.  In the case of this run, while running I thought, “Gosh, I feel embarrassed about my legs.”  Play the tape some more:  Why?  “Because they’re softer today as a result of yesterday’s carbs and sodium.”  Play the tape some more:  And?  “And I feel like I don’t look as much like a runner to passing motorists and fellow pedestrians.”  More tape:  And?  “And….well that doesn’t really matter, does it?”  Still more tape:  Anything else?  “I can choose to make better food choices, such as reduce my sodium, which is probably better for my health, anyway, but more importantly, I need to stay focused on my work and being the person I was meant to be, which may include being at my personal fitness best, but thankfully does not include ‘being the most fit and buff runner people have ever seen.’ ”

Not the most impressive self-talk, perhaps, but it did change my thinking, so I’m calling it progress.  I’m definitely adding this one to my tool bag!

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So exactly when is “pulling a geographic” NOT “pulling a geographic”?

As much as I love my 12-step program, and the 12-step program from which it’s sprung, I must express a rant about what I see as an excessive use of the term, “pulling a geographic.”  It’s something you hear a great deal when people talk about their struggles with addiction.  For those who may not be familiar with the phrase, it refers to when a person makes a move to a new location, often an entirely different region of the country, in an effort to escape their addiction or unwanted behavior.  Obviously, the idea is to make a “fresh start” in a new place, quite possibly a better place (i.e. in terms of climate, visual appeal, etc.), where maybe no one there knows the person and everything is different.  Often, the thinking is that “things” or the previous residence, the people in that person’s life, etc. are the cause of the unwanted behavior, so by shedding those burdens, everything will fall into place, and the person can put that part of his or her life behind him or her.  And of course, as the story goes, inevitably it doesn’t take long for the very problem the person is trying to escape to come back, often even worse than before.  For those lucky enough to finally get real recovery, this outcome at least becomes a worthwhile lesson, to help the person realize that the problem is not going to be solved through external means.

Now without question, there are instances — many of them — in which the impetus to move was indeed impulsive, or at least came from flawed, naive, wishful (you name it) thinking.  But surely there are also numerous examples in which the move actually proved helpful?  Sure, there may have been the slap-in-the-face realization that recovery would not be such a quick or easy fix, but isn’t it possible that the new environs, if it was more appealing than where they lived before, still set a better stage for recovery?  If I’m a nature and outdoors lover, and I’m living in a location in which there aren’t many lovely places (or interest by most who live there) to experience outdoor recreation, and I move to a place that is bustling with stunning scenery and a culture that embraces the active outdoor lifestyle, aren’t I more likely to recover even as I realize the move alone won’t “fix” me?

I bring this up because the rampant use of the term has created its own insanity in my head.  I have lived in the same area all my life, and I must tell you, that while it has many things going for it, outdoor recreation and good climate are definitely not among them.  Being that my husband and I love the outdoors, love to ski, hike, love the ocean (and water in general), love the mountains, love eating healthfully, love the fit lifestyle…..it’s a stress, living in this area, when there have been so many others we have visited that resonate tremendously with us.  And while economically it’s not practical for us to move right now, the discussion of moving to new surroundings is one that comes up often, even as we accept that it may or not be able to happen.

The problem is, DARN IT, these days I find myself constantly hearing this inner, cynical voice say, “Wouldn’t you just be pulling a geographic?”  It plants a seed of doubt that we would get from the move what we’re seeking, so (again that inner cynic says) “Why not just stay here and content yourself with it?  You have a comfortable life, your house payments not so bad, etc.  Why put yourself into the distress of moving when so many are suffering the consequences of that very decision even as we speak?”

Understand, I have never been so recovered.  Although I believe this will be an ongoing journey that lasts my whole life (and I’m excited about that, like a never-ending adventure), I honestly believe I have never before been in such a solid state of mind, a state of balance, whatever that means.  If ever there was a time that a rational decision to move (or not) could be made, it’s now.  I mean, to put it another way, when is it NOT “pulling a geographic”?  When, in your recovery, do you hit that point in which you’re simply choosing to move, and yes, because you believe your life will be better as a result?  Technically, isn’t that the basic definition of pulling a geographic?  In that sense, outside of those who get a job transfer or are in the military, aren’t we all, in a sense, “pulling a geographic” when we move?

Food for thought.  While I don’t want to think naively about what a move will or will not do for us, I also don’t want the concern of moving “for the wrong reason” to perpetually keep me in this state of “waiting.”  I fear I’ll blink and my life will be at its end and I will regret not changing my horizon at least once, if only out of curiosity for what it would be like.  I realize the opportunity to move may not even appear, and if so, this concern is moot.  And I realize that I may come to a different sentiment; somehow change and appreciate our area more than what I think we would “get” for making a move.  I just want to make sure I’m not shutting out possibilities of change and growth, simply out of this phantom concern for “pulling a geographic”!

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