Control and I

Awhile back I wrote about the weight question - a post that I was initially nervous to put up but was ultimately happy that I had.

It's time to face the facts and brave another diary-esque post...a sort of Part II.

Because you see, I have arrived at the giant STOP sign. It's no longer looming in the distance...it's not even just now slowly coming into focus. It's so close that I can reach out and touch it. I can see the peeling fire engine red paint, the two rusty screws, and the fine coating of pollen marring the white lettering. I'm a stone's throw away from where I was last February, when I really got into trouble.

A quick glance beyond my trusty sign confirms what lies ahead:
-A stack of sports bras that no longer fit
-An unrecognizable reflection in the mirror
-A slow and starving runner
-An unlimited amount of fuel for self-hatred
-An equally never-ending supply of punishment and reward
-An obsessively restrictive diet
-A steadily decreasing number on the scale

I've lost 10 pounds in the month that I've been home from college. And while I initially had some weight to lose from my two month stopover in Emotional Overeating, I'm a mere 5 pounds away from being unhealthy again. Where has everything I learned gone? It dances in and out of reach...and periodically disappears behind a cloud of self-loathing and into a world where harshness and rigidity reign.

Like a person struggling with an eating disorder, I have "fear foods". Pesto, pasta, peanut butter, nuts, salad dressing, cheese, chips, crackers, cereal, candy, cookies, cakes, brownies, and ice cream are petrifying. So I make rules: no chips with lunch, no crackers before dinner, no carbs unless it's the night before a long run, no snacks between breakfast and lunch. 1/2 a cup of Oat Squares for breakfast, 1 slice of cheese on my sandwich every three days, 1 decadent dessert every 2 weeks. I cling to these rules like lifelines. Whether I break them or not, I go to bed dejected. I'm either unhappy that I ate "perfectly" and still feel enormously deprived or distressed that I ate "poorly" and feel overwhelmingly guilty.



Fear Foods

The compulsion for control still yanks me around on a chain. After a few months in therapy, I thought I had broken free of its grip. But here I am again - impossibly structured, unbelievably rigid, extremely critical, and generally just miserable to be around. On my worst days, I'm little more than a tense and judgmental monster.

More often than I care to admit, I go to sleep with a rumbling stomach and I run on dead legs. I think about food constantly. I dread taking days off from exercising. I'm scared to go visit anyone because I know I'll have to loosen my control over food, exercise, sleep, and money. I can't help but feel repulsed by what other people are eating. I'm awful to go out to eat with because I'm always silently stewing over the fact that I can't control what everyone else is going to order (read: which temptations will be within reach).

I know, I wouldn't want to be around me either.

I feel like a wild animal still cowering in a recently opened cage...huddled against the cold metal in the back of the trap, only a half a step away from the source of food that tempted me, tricked me, and taught me. I want desperately to run away and never return, but the thought of leaving the confines of my temporary home is paralyzing. Although I'm not visibly wounded, I snap at anyone who comes close. When I'm finally alone again, I pace the silver mesh floor in circles, still vibrating in fear, with one eye trained on the open door.

So more work lies ahead. I have to fight against my tendency to schedule everything, stamp down the anxiety that bubbles up and blinds me when things don't go according to plan, disband my inner critic, and put my feelers out for healthy sources of self-esteem, again. I have to let go of my addiction to setting myself up for failure and then punishing myself by cutting out more foods and by adding in more workouts. And I have to realize that the vicious cycle that I thought I'd left behind for good is more tenacious, more controlling, than I thought.

I wouldn't be surprised if there's a Part III on the way.

Walking the Line

I've always walked the line between being very conscientious (read: healthy and smart) to being downright obsessive (read: unhealthy and unrealistic) about what I eat.

To address and extinguish the thought that may be in your head right now: No, I haven't ever been diagnosed with an eating disorder (although I have met with a therapist and a nutritionist about "disordered eating"). I always seem to be parked a short distance from Anorexia Athletica's entrance, fiddling with my keys, too scared to get out and go in. I've followed all the signs time and time again, but luckily I always seem to land in front of the biggest one of all: a can't-miss-me red octagon with simple and authoritative white letters that read STOP.

One of the scariest parts about getting sucked down that road, for me, was feeling like I had lost the ability to trust myself. I couldn't depend on who I thought I saw in the mirror any more than I could trust what my scale, my friends, and my family said. Now I understand that even though my inner critic may overwhelm the other voices in my life from time to time (and push me towards trouble), I trust myself to just sit at that stop sign until I'm ready to ask for help.

Last February, I did ask for help. I wasn't just teetering on the edge of becoming too thin; I had actually already lost my footing (and a few too many pounds). Now I'm able to see that so much of my battle with food is driven by my tendency for compulsive behavior (ummm trying to get through a semester's syllabus in a weekend, anyone?) and by my penchant for perfection.

I noticed that my once skin-tight jeggings felt "stretched out" even when they were fresh out of the dryer. I saw a picture of myself and was astounded to see my collarbone off in its own zip code. I looked back over my workout tracking and saw descriptions like "excellent", "success!", and "PR" switch to "dead tired", "leg fatigue", "knee pain", "exhausted", "no energy", and "failure". Brother #3 came for a visit and lectured me about eating more.

The Tights Jean by AG

I think that part of healthy eating/living is a balancing act between calories burned and calories consumed. If you've figured the rest of out it, I'm eager to hear your thoughts! Once I realized I was losing strength and wasn't gaining any points in the looks department by going without, I dove (in typical Hannah fashion) into my new assignment: gain weight.

I had a hard time watching the scale go up (because honestly, who is happy about gaining weight) but I was driven by how awful I felt running. The weight slowly came back on, as I added little snacks throughout the day, spread pesto and cheese on my sandwiches, poured granola into my yogurt, munched on crackers drizzled with salsa, and chomped on dark chocolate after dinner. I stopped feeling hungry and for awhile (besides occasional bouts of guilt), I felt much better.

Then I spiraled the other way (notice the pattern: it's either one extreme or the other) and started overeating. For the first time in my life, I'd eat until I was full and then a little bit more. I denied myself sweets and placated myself with large quantities of everything else. I felt so awful about how much I was eating and so ashamed that I couldn't seem to make myself stop that I started working out like crazy. That did nothing to combat how many extra calories were coming in and only pushed me closer towards injury. My jeans started to pinch and the scale crept up to a number that I'd never seen before.

A month later and I'm almost back to my weight from winter break (although I'm admittedly at the lower end of the "normal" weight for my height - but I'm in the "healthy" range nonetheless!) and I'm trying to find a way to stay here. I don't want to feel deprived (like I can't ever have anything fun) and I also don't want to feel overindulgent. I want to keep feeling great when I run and strong when I lift...and I don't want to give up my Oat Squares!

My Favorite Breakfast: Oat Squares, Assorted Fruit, 1% Milk

I'm doing well with controlling my portion sizes and trying new foods (like haddock and mahi mahi!) these days, but I'm still rigidly avoiding re-introducing "extras" (chips, crackers, candy, ice cream, cookies, etc.) into my diet. I know it's because I'm afraid of gaining the weight back. I want to be able to say my body is good enough just the way it is. I'm so envious of people that truly do have that kind of self-confidence, and I hope that I keep getting closer and closer to feeling that way.

Portion Control, Made Fun with Purple Measuring Cups

I don't think that I'm "out of the woods" just yet. I know that my close friends and family still worry about me - but I have picked up some new techniques to use when I feel myself hurtling towards the big STOP sign...and one of the most effective ways for me to cope is to write. Thanks for listening.