Gastric Bypass Barbie

Hot Air Balloons, Regain, & Ruby Red Slippers (Oh, My!)

This morning, while Enrique Elliptical and I were having our 45 minutes of cardio together, I got a visual of myself rising up into the air (like a balloon). I was frantically kicking and flailing my arms in a feeble attempt to stay on the ground, but no matter what I did, I couldn’t stop myself from drifting away.

Then, I visualized Dorothy, from the Wizard of Oz. Remember how she got into the basket of the hot air balloon with the Great Oz, after he promised to take her back home? Remember how Toto jumped out at the last second, forcing her to dive right out after him? Of course, we all know what happened next: The balloon drifted away because it didn’t have enough sand bags to weight it down. No matter what Dorothy did, she could not stop it from happening.

Though the entire movie, she tried heroically to get home, but once she missed that balloon, we were all convinced that she’d be stuck in Oz forever. That is, of course, until Glenda (the Good Witch) returned to tell her that she’s always had the power to go home; all she had to do was wish hard enough and click her ruby red slippers together.

So, how does this little tale apply to me in my Bariatric After Life™? Well, the runaway balloon represents weight regain. Remember how I said that I’d visualized myself floating away, unable to keep my feet on the ground? Remember how Dorothy couldn’t keep that balloon on the ground either?

As it turns out, the balloon (and all of the things Dorothy tried in Oz) represented OUTWARD forces – things that were OUT OF HER CONTROL. The ruby red slippers were the manifestation of all that was INSIDE; her INWARD FORCES. Ultimately, she needed to fail at all of her externally motivated attempts so she could finally see that, only by looking inside herself, would she be able to achieve her dream of returning home.

This is what codependency is all about; the idea that we are affected by and seek answers from outward forces, when we really should be looking WITHIN.

What I realized after this little movie played out in my head was this: I have the power to control my weight regain. I am not a hot-air balloon that is leaving without me — I am Dorothy who knows there is NO PLACE LIKE HOME because I have always been there. I’ve always had the control to be where I most wanted to be — and that’s where I stand today.

Today, I had to remember that I have the God-given power within me to achieve whatever I need to achieve – and I don’t need a wise and powerful Oz to live a healthy and happy bariatric after life.

It’s such a simple lesson, it’s hard to believe I ever missed it. But, I guess life is made up of lots of simple answers – which I just like to make more complicated.

Hey, I think I need a pair of cute little ruby red pumps. Uh, so I can always find my way home.

Rocket Ships & Purple Apes

This morning, while I was talking to Jim, I came up with (what I believe to be) two, profound analogies –– or are they metaphors? I can’t tell, so I will use them interchangeably –– for my for my Bariatric After Life™. The first analogy explains how I got to where I am, and the second explains how I will get to where I want to be.

Before I tell you what they are, understand that I’m absolutely certain they are not novel, and they have probably been written up in HUNDREDS of self-help books on the subject of “finding your authentic self.” But, since I’m not much of a reader (ironic, considering I’m a writer), I haven’t stumbled across them, so they are unique (and wonderful) to me.

Hopefully, they will be to you, too.

ANALOGY #1: My Colors

Since I’ve been voraciously reading (I know, ME, right? Didn’t we just talk about how I don’t read? Okay, sometimes I do…) a short, little, simple book that Yvonne (Bariatric Girl) generously gave me about a month ago (title withheld for now…), I’ve come to the conclusion that, a) I am co-dependent, and b) my inner child was wounded in ways I never imagined. With that said, I got to wondering what I would be like now “IF” certain things hadn’t transpired in my life. I likened it to painting on a big canvas or piece of paper (or wall, in my daughter’s case…LOL).

As a child, I’m certain I had a palette of favorite colors that I used to define my world. The way in which I used those colors was uniquely ME. It was my own style, method and creation. The reason I know this is the truth is because I distinctly remember an event in Kindergarten. I was 4-1/2 (December birthday) and I was coloring my “A, Ape” page with a purple crayon because I thought the brown was ugly, and I didn’t like the black. The teacher “helpfully” asked me if I “knew what color an ape” was. “Yes…,” I timidly replied. “Well, why did you color your ape PURPLE?” she “helpfully” asked (in what I interpreted to be an accusatory tone).

By this time, it was clear to me that I had committed an offensible crime, punishable by (what I was certain would be) a paddling when I returned from lunch. I never understood why some people got paddled when they came back from lunch, and I thought it was a “random” thing. Who knew you’d only get paddled if you broke a rule (like not eating everything in your lunchbag, or coloring your ape purple)? I felt this was really unfair because LOTS of kindergarteners left at lunchtime, which left us “full-dayers” directly in the line of “paddle-fire.” And, besides…what if I had lost my black and brown crayons? Then what?

Anyway, the point of this story is that gradually, people in my life added THEIR colors to MY palette, and they began to tell me how I SHOULD be using my colors. (Case in point: Ape = Black or Brown; Not Purple). Eventually, most of my colors and style were replaced by someone else’s, yet I internalized them as my own. In other words, I began to falsely believe that they were my colors, and that how I was living my life (or seeing the world), was my own, unique style.

This pattern continued as I took art class in Junior High. We had to do pen and ink drawings, but being left-handed, I couldn’t use the pen because the nib would always splay and cause the ink to splatter. I got marked down for not doing my art “properly.” Lesson learned: Art has rules.

In case you are keeping score, by this time in my life, I had learned:

a) Apes are not purple.
b) Art must be done a certain way.
c) Left-handed people cannot draw.

Okay, so I adapted. I didn’t pursue art because I couldn’t “do” it properly, and I clearly used the wrong colors. Well, as literal as the art thing is, the conceptual part is that there were lots and lots and lots of things I didn’t pursue or didn’t do, period, or just did differently because I was afraid to get in trouble. I was afraid to express myself incorrectly.

Ultimately, I guess I learned how to be *uniquely me*, according to someone else’s rules – a fact which clearly went on to play a starring role in my insatiable desire to attain control.

Since I couldn’t control anything *else* in my life, I destructively decided to control FOOD. Good plan.

So, now I’m working to rediscover my authentic colors and style in an effort to return balance to my life and beat the desire to binge. I don’t know where this will take me, or what things I’ll have to do to make this happen, but I’m eagerly waiting — box of crayons in front of me (most of them broken and kinda flat, and many colors missing…that’s just how I am), and a whole ream of clean, white paper to draw on. Maybe I’ll practice really, really drawing again. Hmmm…That’s a thought.

METAPHOR #2: Rocket Ships

I was watching a show on the history of NASA and the astronauts, and one of the things I remember from an episode with Buzz Aldrin (yes, mom, I spelled it correctly this time), was his description of what it felt like to blast off from the launch pad in a Saturn 5 rocket. As he described it, it was not a smooth ride at all. Rather, it was a frightening, quivering, forceful event, comprised of a colossal amount of noise and constant adjustment. He said that there were these thrusters that were really just massive gyroscopes, and each one had the job of keeping the rocket STRAIGHT. You see, rockets don’t just have one, really big exhaust flume — they have a lot of little jets that fire and spin to create the perfect alignment for lift-off. Buzz said it felt like he was sitting on a spinning top, and the crew was never really sure if they were going to clear the tower, because of all the leaning and constant correct.

See, it’s the job of the thrusters to control the upward motion of the rocket — this one shoots harder than that one, this one points that why, while this one tilts the other way… Sometimes a thruster has to exert less power to allow another to compensate. Have you ever seen footage of rockets that blast off, then veer directly into the ground? Problem with the gyro boosters…

Are you getting the picture? Like life, lift-off is NOT just a solid thrust of power, followed by an endless orbit! It is a series of corrections (and over-corrections!)

Now, here’s where this applies to my Bariatric After Life: Up until this morning, I mistakenly believed that my energy had to be channeled or focused into a single flume; but now I realize I need to distribute it over many, many “gyroscopic boosters” (for lack of a better expression), in order to keep me pointing in the right direction. I can’t just focus on “this” or “that;” I have to look at all of the energy sources and all of the energy requirements, and get them working together with the requisite “give and take.”

But, there’s more to this little metaphorical analogy! Remember how I’d mentioned that “restlessness” thing I’d learned from a fellow blogger? She’d wisely explained that the source of her desire to eat was directly related to her feeling of restlessness — not boredom! She felt that “recovery” would come from learning to “be okay” with the restlessness; learning to sit with it, until it dissipated.

Well, thanks to something brilliant that Jim said (as an aside, really…I swear, he doesn’t say much, but when he says SOMETHING, you’d better listen!) — he mentioned that he is also restless, and what he tries to do is FOCUS that energy into positive activities.

Did you read that clearly?

FOCUS. THAT. ENERGY.

Not wait for it to dissipate.
Not try to quell it or quiet it.

FOCUS IT.

Hmmm…Guess what? My RESTLESSNESS IS ENERGY (nervous, anxious, whatever you want to call it — but it IS energy.) This is completely OPPOSITE of listlessness! What a GIFT I’ve been given! I actually HAVE energy, I don’t need to FIND energy!

So, armed with that knowledge, and my newly minted rocket-ship analogy (or is that simile? I keep getting these metaphors mixed up), I am filled with powerful knowledge that should help me to conquer (or at least wrest control of) my binge problem. It’s not really about understanding it at all. It’s about using the energy I already have to overcome it.

Then I can focus on the more important things in life…like painting my ape purple, if I wanna.

Habits or Behaviors?

I haven’t blogged about therapy in awhile, and I thought I’d take a moment to share what happened on Tuesday morning (I now go Tuesday mornings, instead of Fridays or Thursdays, just so you won’t be confused).

I was talking to Jim about my frustrating — though enjoyable — trip to Mexico to pick up my in-laws. The long and short of it was this: I had packed my protein and told myself that I had everything I needed: Tortilla/Flax/Soy chips, instead of tostadas or corn tortillas; beans, cheese, Greek yogurt — heck, even salsa! For “sweets” I had brought a Power Crunch bar (peanut butter), and I had plenty o’ Protein Blitz and Propel Waters. Even brought a package of Body Tech Pro Pudding. In other words, I left nothing open to chance.

Now, for those of you who might not understand how things roll with Mexican families, when you arrive at a house, you are immediately offered FOOD. Okay, my family understands that I have my own food, and they are not offended that I can’t partake of the pozole (pork and hominy soup), or rice, or fideo (noodle soup). They truly understand and this is wonderful. So, I sat down with a bowl of beans, some of my sister-in-law’s salsa, my Greek yogurt, and a little melted cheese, and life was good. Until she put the stack of warm, fresh, corn tortillas on the table. I lasted…oh…about 5-1/2 seconds. BAM. Knocked back TWO (that I’m willing to admit) in a very short (painfully short) span of time. Yes, my pouch paid the price. But the salsa burned right through it and life was bién (otra véz).

Until the Mexican pastries came to town. Now, I hate Mexican pastries — they are dry and not sweet enough. Except for the stupid cortedillos — which are really nothing more than a trés leches cake with pink frosting and sprinkles. It was my Kryptonite before surgery, and it is still my Kryptonite now. Oh. and the stupid marshmallow cookies. And the iced cookies that I’d never seen before, but had to eat. By the handfuls.

Okay, I think you can see where this went: WILDLY AND UTTERLY OFF THE RAILS.

Thank God I was only there for about 24 hours, that’s all I can say.

Did I mention the churros? Two, DIFFERENT batches of churros? Plucked straight from the hot vat of boiling oil? Yeah, you can’t cross the border without eating them. It’s breaking some immigration law, or something. I’m serious.

Anyway, with that debacle behind me, I sulked my way into therapy and lamented that I was tired of Binge Barbie taking over my life, even though I make all sorts of plans and contingencies to steer clear of the trouble.

Sadly, we (Jim and I) did not arrive at a solution for that problem yet –– (why do they always have to buzz his office to tell him somebody else is waiting in the lobby just when I’m getting to the good stuff?)  –– although I believe we are laying the groundwork for progress and change.

HOWEVER, the session was not a total loss, and one of the things that did come up, was my abject dislike of the term “habits.” I hate that word: HABITS. Whether it’s preceded by the word “bad” (as in bad habits), or “good” (as in — something I am supposed to be creating in my Bariatric After Life.) Pffffttt.

See, I am a skeptic about recovery. That’s just the bottom line. I look at alcoholics and drug addicts, and all I see is a vast majority of people who DON’T “make it” and very, very small minority of people who do. (I am also, apparently, a pessimist about it). Perhaps I should stop watching “Intervention.”

Hmmm…I dunno.

Whatever the case, I tend to look at people who actually remain in recovery from their addictions as the RESULTS-NOT-TYPICAL crowd. I’ve written about this before in regard to my own experience as a post-op. I am a results-not -typical because I (at one point) lost way more than I wanted to. Apparently, I am not generous in my application of that label to all aspects of my life, so deep down (or not so deep down) inside, I have doubts that I will be able to overcome my binge addiction. I bristle when I hear people blithely tell me that “all I have to do is create healthy new habits to replace unhealthy old ones.” As if.

So, one of the ground rules I laid with Jim is the fact that we will NOT be working on developing any sort of habits for me. What we will be doing is establishing new behaviors to replace old ones. Now, that might just sound like simple semantics, but the point of it all is that when I hear the word “habits,” I think of the words “subconscious” or “automatic” — as in, I will learn to “automatically” or “subconsciously” do the right things because they will become HABITUAL to me.

Uh, no.

I believe — and perhaps I am mistaken, and maybe I am selling myself short — but I believe that my bad habits are deeply ingrained because they are LEARNED habits that were created when I was a blank slate. In other words, it was not hard to internalize them, because there was nothing in their place to start with.

Now, at age 43 (and some), to try and create a NEW habit would imply that I am dislodging the OLD habit, and I really don’t believe that is possible. I view it like a chalkboard. You remember how, when the teacher would erase the board to write something new, there would always be chalk residue, and even a little bit of writing left over? (That, by the way, was one of my pet peeves! If there was a HINT of writing left on the board, I would hyperfocus on it to the exclusion of all else on the board. Story for another day.) Okay, so the point of that metaphor is, when you erase the chalkboard, there’s still chalk-residue — old habits that you are trying to overwrite. But you always know there was something else there, and I think that gets in the way of replacing the old habit with a new one.

I believe that the only way I will succeed at beating this binge addiction thing is to reframe my strategy. I can’t comfortably target “subconscious habits” so I’m going to go for new learned behaviors which will never be intrinsic, intuitive, habitual or automated. I will always have to “stop, drop and roll.” You know? Like, stop the bad behavior in its tracks, think about the correct behavior, then implement the new behavior. I don’t really know if I will be able to do this every time, and when I’m not successful, will I just want to stop trying? I don’t know, but one would hope not.

Jim reminded me that, when treating an alcoholic, recovery does NOT necessarily mean complete and total abstinence. This revelation shocked, scared and excited me a bit. I mean, I am a very black and white person. If you’re an alcoholic, then you’re no longer in recovery the minute you take a drink. Black. White. I apply the same (flawed) definition to bingeing. The minute I binge — even a little, it’s all over.

Well, part of my goal is to find techniques to minimize harm from bingeing. Sounds like a tall order, but I’m up for the challenge. Even though I had a bad day yesterday. Ugh. Hey, nobody said it was gonna be easy!

So, that’s what’s been happening in therapy. I have some other thoughts, too, but my brain and fingers are tired for now, so I will blog more later.

One Step at at Time: Binge Update

As you know (because I mention it regularly), I am a binger. Now, I don’t do it everyday, but I do it enough that it causes extreme problems. I feel physically and emotionally terrible when I do it, and the sad thing is, I am not at that place where I catch myself BEFORE I do it, so I feel powerless to stop it. As I explained to my therapist yesterday, it’s like I am two, completely different people when I am in binge-mode. The “rational me” completely divorces myself from the “binge-me” so the “binge-me” can have her way with the “rational me” and leave “me-me” in a crumpled heap after the damage has been wrought.

If that doesn’t sound serious enough, let me tell you, it’s a horrible feeling, and again, I FEEL POWERLESS when it happens.

Which brings me to the list below. Jim (my therapist — hey, Jim!) mentioned the 12-step program to me a couple of months ago, and told me that I might want to consider finding a “sponsor” (which I promptly did.) Unfortunately, since that time, I have not called upon her once because of the aforementioned “binge-me/rational-me” separation anxiety!

Anyway, when were we talking yesterday, I brought up the fact that I really didn’t KNOW the rest of the 12 steps — which might be shocking, considering the fact that my grandpa was a pretty early member of AA. At his death, in 1986, he had over 23 years of sobriety under his belt. He was an amazing success who sponsored many people in their own journeys from alcohol dependency, and even kept a full alcohol cupboard in his house (just because he felt that others deserved to drink, even if he couldn’t.) Talk about character!

As I try to adapt that to my Bariatric After Life™, I wonder if I could have a “cookie pantry” for guests and not pilfer it clean. Hmmmm…maybe someday, but for now, let’s just say, in my house prohibition is alive and well, and we live in a “dry county!”

So, anyway, back to the 12 Steps. I figured I should probably know what they are, so I could see which ones I might already be doing, and which ones I need to work on. To tell you the truth, I was really surprised by the content of the list! I guess, even though I “call” myself an addict, I didn’t really understand exactly what that meant. In other words, I didn’t understand the DEPTH of the addiction, or how pervasive it was to compromising my very character and soul!

I didn’t go through an extreme procedure like gastric bypass surgery to treat my obesity, only to flush it down the toilet by ignoring a food addiction, that’s for DARNED sure! While that might sound extreme, I believe that FOOD ADDICTION is extreme, so the treatment of it must match that degree of extremity.

Without further ado, and for the those of you who might not know what the 12-steps are, here is the list. Note that I have modified it to fit my WLS lifestyle, and you can see which ones I’m working on, and which ones I still need to address.

The 12 Steps (modified from the original Alcoholics Anonymous steps)

1. I admit that I am powerless over FOOD— My life before WLS was unmanageable, and can become so again.
2. I believe that a Power greater than myself will restore me to sanity.
3. I have made a decision to turn my will and my life over to the care of God as I understand Him.
4. I am making a searching and fearless moral inventory of myself.
5. I have admitted to God, to myself, and to another human being the exact nature of my wrongs.
6. I am entirely ready to have God remove all these defects of character.
7. I will humbly ask Him to remove my shortcomings.
8. I am making a list of all persons I have harmed, and am willing to make amends to them all.
9. I will make direct amends to such people wherever possible, except when to do so would injure them or others.
10. I will continue to take personal inventory and when I am wrong, promptly admit it.
11. I am seeking, through prayer and meditation, to improve my conscious contact with God, praying only for knowledge of His will for me, and the power to carry that out.
12. Having had a spiritual awakening as the result of these steps, I am working to carry this message to others, and to practice these principles in all of my affairs.

Wow. It’s a good thing there are “only 12,” because I’m already concerned about accomplishing them all! Of course, that’s why the AA mottos have always been “One Step at a Time” and “Easy Does It.”

Am I scared? You bet!

Am I going to let that stop me? No way!

I’m curious to know if anyone else feels they are battling addiction, and if they have considered combatting it through a 12-step program? Were you familiar with the steps prior to reading this? What are your thoughts…?

Emotional Eating or Willful Eating?

So, yesterday, at my “collaboration” appointment with Jim, my therapist (we always teach each other stuff, so counseling isn’t the right word), we were talking about “why I binge,” and I was telling him how clear it was becoming to me. I shared with him some of my drama at work, and how I’d been cast as the unwilling whipping boy for an insecure salesman for over a year, and how I’d been extremely professional, stood my ground, and never really let him get away with crap, but how I’d finally reached the point that I needed my day in court. In other words, I needed a forum to call a spade a spade. this guy finally needed to know exactly what sort of jerk I thought he was, and how his behavior was so entirely beyond the pale, he wouldn’t be allowed to try his nonsense anymore.

This was all motivated by the fact that he’d determined he wanted to work with a junior production person on his projects (so he could get away with whatever he wanted and not be required to follow internal procedures, etc.)

Basically, he was intimidated by me, didn’t like the fact that I’m a woman (and a tall one, at that), and took every opportunity to lash out from his weak little ego. I’m sure he reasoned that the junior production person wouldn’t give him flak, or “question” his decisions, and she certainly couldn’t hold his feet to the flames. In other words, she’d sweetly let him get away with whatever he wanted, and he’d be allowed to operate with impunity.

Ahhh…not so fast. I decided to remind him that I am the director of production and the junior production person reports to: ME. In other words, I still outrank him, even if he doesn’t have to run his work directly through me.

Well, that was a nasty meeting that just so happened to take place on the 1-year anniversary of my dad’s death (last Friday). Despite my emotionally fragile condition and weakened physical state (still recovering from surgery — ouch), I held my own and he ended up looking like an even bigger boob than he already was (if that’s even possible). I basically called him to the carpet at every turn because I needed to shoot down his illogical, biased, inflammatory, and unfounded case.

So, why didn’t I feel better after the confrontation?

Perhaps I should back up the truck a bit.

What you don’t know about me is, I spent 40 years running from confrontation. I would cry and dissolve into a puddle of tears when someone unjustly accused me of something, and I could never defend myself. I always took the high road, figuring that my “impeccable” (or at least exceptionally high) moral character and professionalism would rule the day. Of course, that never happened, and I always ended up being the loser. It used to fry MexiKen’s chonies that I didn’t stick up for myself, but there were many reasons for that, among which were these:

1. I was fat and didn’t feel worthy or equal to my foes
2. I usually did not have positional authority in the situation. They were usually senior in rank, age, or knowledge.
3. I worried that there might be a shred of truth to their argument. (In other words, I might actually be guilty of their charges.)

So, I would take my lumps, swallow my pride, and and then go feed my sadness. In other words, I let those people feed my insecurities while I fed my face.

Well, since having gastric bypass surgery and losing 170 pounds, I found the backbone and self-worth I never knew I had. And now, people don’t get away with crap anymore. Not really. Of course, I’m always über professional, but you know, there’s still nonsense to deal with. Oh, and I now have positional and experiential authority, so it’s like a trifecta for success.

Anyway, in the past 6 months, I’ve determined that I’m a binger, and have been working on finding out “WHY.” To my thinking, I’d finally struck psychological gold:

I feel like bingeing when my character is attacked and I am not able to properly defend myself. In other words, if an opponent lands a blow — no matter how unfairly thrown — and I can’t hit back — I get frustrated, feel out of control and (I guess) binge.

Seems like the perfect emotional package, all tied up with a pretty red bow, doesn’t it?

Well…here’s the wrinkle in the ribbon (as it were). Yesterday, as Jim was applauding me for my handling of the situation, and telling me that I had great chutzpah to do what I had done, he gave me a little nugget to gnaw on. He said, “Well, there is a relatively new school of thought out there, based upon studies that show zero correlation between depression and drinking. In other words, the studies are finding that alcoholics do not drink because they are depressed; they drink because they WANT TO DRINK.”

Okay, now that hit me like a ton of bricks, and not for reasons you would think. You see, I’d just gotten done telling him about my silly bingeing episode with the pink wafer cream cookies, etc., and I’d already pretty much come to the conclusion that I’d eaten them because I love them and wanted them.

But, to further reinforce the plausibility of this theory, Jim posited this query: He said, “You and I both used to smoke, but we don’t anymore. Why not?”

Now, it’s been 20+ years since I smoked, and I remember my chief motivation for quitting was that I kept getting headaches when I smoked. At the time, I remember telling people that the reason I had smoked was because I was stressed, tired or bored. In other words, I’d smoke to “stay awake” while driving, or I’d smoke to “pass the time” at my night job, or I’d smoke on my breaks “to be social” and “unwind”.

So, connect the dots: Am I not still stressed, tired and bored? If that’s the case, then wouldn’t it follow that I would still smoke? Since I don’t smoke anymore, does that mean that I “must” now eat for the same reasons I used to smoke?

Uh…..

You got me there.

I’m thinking that, to be intellectually honest….I’ll have to say, “No.”

No, I don’t really…necessarily…truly…honestly…binge for any of those reasons. They are simply convenient justifications.

I binge because I want to binge.

And then our time was up — Dammit! Clearly, our next session will bring us ever closer to the denouement: Why do I WANT to binge?

Stay tuned and gnaw on that for awhile…instead of that cookie!

Getting to the Heart of the Matter on my Bingeing

“In matters of the the heart, nothing is true except the improbable.” – Madame de Stael

As I’ve posted before, I am a binger. Okay, not a world-class binger or anything, I mean, I don’t purge, and I don’t do it everyday…I just do it enough that it is harmful to my psyche and body. So, eating disorder treatment is one of the reasons I’m going to counseling.

I got to meet with Jim (my therapist) this morning for the first time in about 2 months (his schedule didn’t permit, then mine didn’t, and well…you get the picture). It had been a long time coming, clearly, because I had a lot of junk built up in there. Perhaps that was a good thing, because I was able to identify (what I believe is) a pattern and it brought the source of my binges to the fore.

From what I’ve been able to deduce apparently, I want to binge when:

• I feel that I have been grossly misunderstood
• I feel that I am being accused of not handling a situation well
• I feel that my character is being assassinated
• I feel that I’m not getting credit for doing the “right thing”

I started each thought with “I feel” because that is the crux of it. I FEEL that these things are happening, when in reality, they probably are not (and perception is reality, right?) But, let me explain a little more.

I am pretty intuitive, and as a result, I tend to “pick up” a lot of stuff from people –– stuff that they aren’t even aware of. Now, in my past, this has served me well, because I’ve been able to help people, or diffuse difficult situations. I have generally always considered my ability to emotionally “intuit” as a mostly positive thing, with only a little negative stuff attached.

As an example, if I walk into a large gathering of people — especially a party — I tend to feel like a magnet for people’s insecurities, unhappiness, worries, discomfort, even joy and happiness. It all comes at me like little blow darts, and I feel like a voodoo doll. I used to think I hated parties because I was fat, but now that I am thin, I realize it is because of how I viewed my role at the party. I guess I thought it was up to me to make others feel comfortable, and that is why I would “allow myself” to be the recipient of their emotions, thoughts and feelings.

Ahhhh, but here’s the thing about that plan of attack: I have no way of knowing what others are feeling or thinking. Sometimes, THEY don’t even know what they are thinking or feeling, so how could I?

So, here is what I need to work on:

1. I cannot know what others think or feel.
2. I cannot know others’ motivation or intentions behind actions or words.
3. I cannot allow others’ to judge me.

That last one is tricky sounding, I mean, I judge people all the time, and I know they judge me, so how do I stop them from judging me? The easiest answer is, I don’t. What I mean by that is — and these are Jim’s words that I must internalize: I have to stop assigning malicious attributes to people’s words and actions. My job is to believe that most people have a benevolent (at best) and benign (at most) reason behind what they do and say. Then, even if someone is judging me, I don’t have to accept it as truth, or acknowledge it as any more than a point of fact. In other words, there should be no emotion behind the thought. No judgment.

Here’s how it looks when I ALLOW people’s words to become judgments about me:

Someone can say something to me that I immediately want to interpret as mean. The next thing I typically do is take the comment and run down the road with it:

• Why are they so mean? (I judged them as if I know their motivation behind their words).
• What did I do to make them mad? (I immediately determined that they were mad, and that it was something I had done.)
• I didn’t do anything wrong. (I get defensive and start to find ways to correct their indiscretion.)

All of that happens in the blink of an eye.

Now, if it happens enough times at a particular event, then I can create the most fantastic mountain out of the most innocuous series of mole hills. Each of the shovels of dirt I add to my mountain are “justifiable” and make “perfect sense.” After all, I have to defend my position. I have to stop letting them get to me. I have to look for someone to make me feel better about myself to prove that the other person is wrong.

Anyway, there is much, much more to it than that, but I think you have the heart of the matter.

Moving forward, my job is to stop jumping to conclusions. Stop pretending I am so important that other people live for the sole purpose of making me happy, or making me look or feel bad. We are all selfish creatures, and virtually everything (if not absolutely everything) we do comes from that place of ego; that self. How will it make ME feel? That’s just human nature.

BUT, it’s what you do with it that matters most.

My goal is to begin assigning benign attributions to people’s actions — even if they SEEM blatantly or overtly malicious. That’s my first order of business. Once I do that, then I will move to the next step, which is to stop allowing others’ statements to become judgments that I automatically accept as true — meaning that I “think” I have to defend myself against them. The third thing is to stop looking at myself as if I am a target. I’m not a voodoo doll, and I’m not entering a sniper zone without a bullet proof vest. People in this world are not out to get me (I don’t mean that in a panicky, paranoid sort of way) — they are as wrapped up in their worlds as I am in mine.

So, that’s my therapy for the day. I’m going to work on it this weekend. Maybe I’ll make little flash cards for practice (LOL). I don’t know if anyone else can identify with this, but I’m just working stuff out here…