Oops, I did it again

I have kind of had a reminder-breakthrough.  Well neither of those, really.  Have you ever had a moment where you have this 'epiphany,' only it's not an epiphany but something that you've been telling yourself for years, that you keep hearing and finally HEARD?  I had one of those tonight.

I eat a lot at nights when I'm alone.  Food has been my companion, my love, my best and at sometimes only friend.  It's been like this since I was probably 6 or 7 years old.  I found a picture from 3rd grade that was of me in a bathing suit, and good golly did I look engorged.  I transfered from a school with a small, safe learning environment and community to a public school in the beginning of third grade.  I was the outcast, the weirdo. I didn't raise my hand before going to the bathroom because I never had to before. I didn't know the lingo, didn't have the friends that my other classmates did.  I was such a social butterfly and have always been so, but that was tough when everyone thought you were strange.

I was bullied at home by my older brother. I remember hiding food, saying "I only had one cookie" when it was clear that I had eaten with fervor one half of a package of cookies.  Even now for example, tonight I bought some cookies for me and my roommate and I had five of them; I had this plan in my head to tell my roommate that I only had three.  She worked tonight, so even though my bank accounts and credit cards have a total of less than $100 in them, I chose to spend $22 on the same delivery calzone and mozzarella sticks that I had last night(!!). Even more embarrassingly, I went grocery shopping today and have plenty of semi-decent food to eat.

School was hell until I went to Catholic school when I was 15; and I hated it after that, still. I went to 'fat camp' the summer between 5th and 6th grade, and at camp right after I turned 11 I had my first kiss.  I thought I was the coolest girl in the world. I'd bet half the girls in school hadn't been kissed! Take that Kelly, Hillary, Caitlin and Caitlin, and whatever the hell else your bloody names are. After fat camp, it was a new middle school.  I survived in 6th grade - at 24 pounds thinner, people noticed me. The weight piled back on though, and I reverted back to the social butterfly-turned-pariah that I'd become.

From ages 8-14 I was bullied, never asked to dance at a school dance, laughed at when I did the asking.  I was so depressed when even the geekiest and those who were considered the strangest guys in my grade wouldn't dance with me in middle school. I based my self-worth on the fact that I couldn't get a 'boyfriend' (aka someone who would hold hands at recess, or sit with me at lunch).  There was a girl in my grade who had been heaver than I was, had frizzier hair than I did; we both were blessed with curly hair during the mid-90s (read: frizzy hell).  She kind of liked the same boy I did. I asked him out to selfishly prove to myself that I could get a boyfriend; he accepted and we were together for a whole two days.  It is still the longest relationship that I've ever been in. They ended up dating for the rest of 7th grade and most of 8th.

To offer an understanding as to the power that I give men: in seventh grade my entire public school class went on an environmental retreat, where we learned about nature and were supposed to have bonded.  My crush of one year (and still for another year until he moved in 8th grade) was on the trip and we ended up in line (yeah not by accident, it was puppy love!) for dinner together. I'd wanted to be a vegetarian for a year, but couldn't do it. I asked him 'why aren't you getting a burger?' and he responded (swoon!!) 'I'm a vegetarian.'  My response: 'yeah, me too.'  That was nearly 16 years ago and I'm still a vegetarian.  That was probably our longest conversation..

Due to severe bullying during my freshman year at public school I nearly died.  I won't say how or go into details, but it was terrible.  I was punched in the face when I tried to confront a friend-turned-bully.  After defending myself we were both suspended.  My one and only fight.  Girls taunted me or laughed at me to my face and behind my back.  It was hell.  I turned into one of those goth kids, fell in with the wrong crowd, and smoked a half-pack of marlborough reds until my brother stole them and beat up the guy who bought them for me. I didn't have many friends after that; my brother's reputation was known around my town.

I went to Catholic school during my second freshman grade year (the idea of a nun, and a decision which haunts and beats me up still yet) and found solace in the drama and music departments, but the bullying changed from mostly students to a few stupid girls and the teachers and faculty.  I am not Catholic, and they never let me live it down. I always felt, again, like an outcast.  I kind of had some crazy moments also, some of which were caused by others and that I reacted to, some were due to my brother's teasing, and some were just my own teenage angst.  Fast forward (quickly please) thirteen and-a-half years and here I sit.

I've endured bullying from home (until a few years ago when my brother and I unofficially made a truce), bullying from boys, being punched in the back of the head for sitting on the wrong seat on the school bus, severe bullying at work as an adult, an abusive mentor-mentee relationship, sexual harassment, sexual assault, compulsive eating ED treatment, the loss of a precious job that I look back on and shudder and I sit completely in my own mind and feeling crazy.  There's this feeling of never being good enough.  My brother called me a man-hater until a few years ago and still gives me the vibes that he thinks I am one.  It's not that, but maybe he's not exactly far off.

I'm in this state of constant underlying gentle anxiety. Does that make sense? It's not to the point where my heart is pounding and I feel nauseous, but it's there, like an old frienemy. Sitting on my shoulder, ready to take over when I need someone to, ready to cause me pain and then offer me a solace to which I always turn: food.  So tonight, after my calzone, mozzarella sticks and five cookies, I topped the night off with a bowl of ice cream (taking some from each quart, so that my roommate wouldn't notice as much) with chocolate chips on top.

I went on a date with a guy I met on match.com during my brief membership in 2006.  I lost almost ten pounds in the month leading up to our date - I wasn't hungry at night.  I remember being so excited, because I just felt better - we talked a lot, I was looking forward to talking to him instead of eating blindly at night.  He was a complete weirdo, so that one date was our last, but again I turned to food. From 2004 until 2011 I'm pretty sure I gained 90 pounds.  I'm down 40 pounds at this point, but I know it won't be long if I continue this trend.

I hate reading comments on articles where people say "fat people would be thin if they didn't eat so much".  Thanks a-hole, I never thought about that.  It's more than that, it's just like anorexia or bulimia except for your eating disordered brain tells you to do the opposite. This night-time eating thing is for the birds. I'm so sick of it, both physically and emotionally.  I'll beat it, but I feel like I'm traveling this dusty road alone - no one can pick me up from this, I'm the only one who can stop myself.  I wish it were easier.

Stay safe, enjoy your holidays.

Help; I need somebody, Help; not just anybody..

I'm a morning person.  My body wakes me up at 6-7am, no matter what time I went to sleep.  If it's 8am, it's a damn miracle.  My job requires me to work late, meaning 12p-10p four days per week.  I usually have a break at around 3:30 or 4pm, so by the time I get home I'm starving, and so exhausted that I don't want to cook or prepare anything. So I eat: crap foods.

The month of December has been pure hell at work. I've been yelled at by ignorant people, we've been robbed where I work (long story), and for the entire month of December I'm working late.  I usually work these later shifts once or twice per week which is fine, it's when I take my dog to the dog park in the morning.  Now that I'm doing it four times per week, I notice that I eat crap foods when I get home.  My roommate wakes up at 5-7pm for the night because of her work schedule, so she's always up for eating when I get home, which in a sense encourages and enables me.

This job doesn't pay me well. I find that because I'm always in the poor house, when I get money I can't hold onto it. A lot of times it goes to food.  I have a feeling that it's a deep-rooted issue from childhood, because I know we had some money troubles for a few years back then, and I was always really terrible at budgeting. Also, I was always teased about my weight and turned to hiding and eating food when I was like 5 years old and older.  I know this is all related to PTSD but I can't figure out how.. I also go to the grocery store and buy fresh and beautiful foods with desires to cook, but most of the time they go wasted.  I get anxiety cleaning out the fridge, knowing a. how much money I wasted, and b. how it means what I really put in my body.

I hate waking up full and feeling disgusting.  This is a true sign that I've slipped into some of my old ways. This is truly embarrassing, but here is a taste of my old ways and what I put myself through last night.  I got home at 10:20pm and thought about ordering food. For some reason I have this thing that I can't figure out: if I think about food in a certain way ('ooh, I want pizza'), it is an all-consuming 'deal' until I actually do what my brain is consumed with: eat the food I can't stop thinking about.  By can't stop thinking about it, I mean NOTHING stops me from thinking about it. I won't pay attention to conversations, TV, music, internet, you name it.  Then I do what I'm consumed with and it's like 'okay cool, back to reality.'

Last night I unfortunately thought about a calzone and mozzarella sticks.  At 10:30pm I ordered them, and started watching (of all things, The Biggest Loser).  I ordered said food as well as a pizza, 'to tide me over for a couple of days.'  They came at 11:15; I ate my calzone and mozzarella sticks, and when I was putting away the pizza took a slice to eat. I don't know why, but !#%(&# @$%@ I wish I hadn't.  I sat on the couch in a sad state of lethargy, watching the Biggest Loser contestants run a marathon. P.S. if John wins this I would like to personally drive to his house and punch him in the face for being a bloody jerk.

So I went to bed last night, and just like in my old ways I had trouble falling asleep. It was after 2:30am when I finally did.  I woke up this morning at around 7:30, and fought off actually getting up due to exhaustion until 9. Then I got up.  I got an all-consuming desire to blog this, like I know it would help.  It hasn't, but maybe it will soon.  I don't know what to do. My job doesn't offer health insurance for more than six months, so I'm still waiting on that. I'm sure therapy would help, but I'm stuck.