100 days in the life: Week 3 Roundup.

Week 3 Roundup.

Well, despite only having three appointments this week, it was a week just chock-a-block full of frustration.

While I was able, for the most part, to stick to the scheduled plan, there were so many psychological obstacles, that I began missing food mightily. I decided to give into the yearning, only to find out that food is indeed, my enemy, at this point.

I have no idea which nerves the docs severed in my surgery, but it's clear that it's been food right along, (and NOT caffeine) that triggers the pain in my pelvic floor. Caffeine probably doesn't help, (since it just makes me irritable and edgy, and pretty much makes my head feel like it will explode) but it's apparently the lesser of two evils, for now.

I would hazard a guess that asking my digestive tract to do anything at this point is a mistake, because it simply takes far too much energy for my body to digest food, which robs my brains ability to supply the necessary endorphins that have been helping to mask the chronic pain.

That's my best guess anyway, and it seems as good as anything I can get, by way of diagnosis, from the medical establishment. Nerves are such a strange bodily mechanism, and only so very minimally understood. Sheesh.

If I could only tell that little voice inside me, that finds comfort in food, to back the fuck up, and get back on the bus, then all would be well.

The trouble being, of course, that when you've been addicted to food, as long as I have, it's not quite that simple.

It's not helping that the lack of food is making me completely enervated, or at least, that's what I tell myself.

The truth is that food isn't giving me any energy, at all.

But neither is fasting, and I would have thought that the "kick" from fasting, would have "kicked-in" by now. (It did, by this time, last summer; so much for expectations.)

So, it's not just that the emotional withdrawal is problematic, but add lack of energy, lack of motivation, lack of mental clarity, lack of patience, and being in some sort of chronic pain (whether emotional or physical) and you kind of get where I am at.

Pretty much blows.

I just know that food (or perhaps, the action of eating it?) gives me some sort of indefinable boost.

It doesn't seem to matter that the boost is false and does not do what the emotional anticipation says it will, i.e., give me energy.

But, I guess that's the nature of having an addiction in the first place.

I am at my wit's end just trying to get out from under it, though, so I it looks like I will be repeating week 2, a bit longer, and worrying about the other addictions (caffeine and casein), later.

It's early days yet, and while I am extremely frustrated with it, (to the point of not being able to stand myself, even) I have to have patience, that this will, eventually, become my "norm".

 

I will stop missing the false comfort that food gives me. I will begin including adequate and consistent self- care into my life. I will learn how to live in a way that is healthy and fulfilling. I will do without the addiction, just like I have done all the other times in my life, when I was trying to make lasting changes.

Making these affirmations a mantra, seems to be the only thing I am capable of, at present.

I just have to have the patience and fortitude to realize this, (I'm thinking maybe that's the current lesson) and remember it, BEFORE I turn to the same old habit of stuffing food in my mouth, for comfort.

 

After all, when people without food addictions, have trouble with digestion; they simply stop eating.

Of course, they aren't me and I am not them, and so, merely the act of remember to tell myself that if I eat; "IT WILL LEAD TO PAIN, FRUSTRATION, AND DISCOMFORT; feels like an impossible, overwhelming task, most days.

An all-consuming task, in fact.

What I really need is to check into a sanitarium. A nice long stay, in a nice padded, rubber room, (where all they feed you is soup), should do the trick.  (Now I surely know why my mother had so many nervous breakdowns; likely the only way she could truly rest and recharge her batteries.)

The truth is that I am in such a place of struggle, that even that, at this point, would likely be small comfort.

Probably just as well that it's unaffordable, because if I had to grasp at such a straw, and it failed to help, then what would I do?