Food=Love.

I like being alone. I always have. At family events at my home growing up, I would come downstairs to make an appearance, then go back up to my room and shut the door. Maybe it's because I can do what I want when I'm alone; no one is judging me or telling me what I should or should not do. The funny thing is, I was never without a boyfriend in my high school years. I think the idea that even though I liked being alone, I liked the thought that there was someone that loved me, that wanted to be around me, and I could share my thoughts and ideas with. I was so co-dependent with guys. I felt like if we broke up, it was the end of the world. I'm pretty sure that's not the depression-I'm pretty sure it's because I was a teenage girl? As soon as a relationship would end, I would latch right on to the next guy that showed interest. It's funny, I started writing this blog to profile my love affair with food, and it kind of went in a different direction. The segue with being alone was the fact that when I am alone, I can truly do whatever I want, which includes eating whatever I want and how much of it I want without anyone watching me or telling me that it's wrong or bad.

As a teen, I was "average", varying between 130 and 140 lbs at 5'7". Of course I always thought I was fat because I was still wearing the higher junior sizes of 9 and 11. Food wasn't really on my radar; I can't look back and picture a day where I binged or went out of my way to eat copious amounts of food. Actually, I would get lunch money every day while some of my friends did not, and I always shared my food with them. When I got pregnant at 17, I was 150 when they weighed me for my first prenatal appointment-a true heffer. I ended up gaining 51 pounds because I subscribed to the fact that I was "eating for 2", "it's all baby weight", "I'll be the weight I was as soon as he's born", etc. On my son's first birthday I was 159, which was unacceptable, but I had never had to diet or exercise before. By this point I was not a teen, I was an adult working for a living, and I didn't feel like I could be careless as a parent. In my high school years I dabbled in drugs, but even the thought of doing them as an adult was out of the question because I have to be a role model for my son. I worked in a casino where all of the snack bar food was half-off, and they had my favorite foods: nachos, patty melts, chicken fingers with ranch, ice cream. My job was also a sedentary one, so I ended up putting on 20 lbs in a year. When I met my first boyfriend after my son was born, I would go to his place after work and we would rent movies and stop by Circle K and pick up Ben & Jerry's, pumpkin seeds, and one-liter Pepsi's. I was about a size 14 or 16 then, and even though I was "fat", I was still finding clothes that fit at The Gap, NY & Co, and Hot Topic, so it was okay.

Fast forward a few years and I'm in a bad relationship, not working due to stress and depression for a year, and barely making ends meet. My live-in boyfriend was out doing God knows what, and I was driving through McDonalds getting a large Double Quarter Pounder meal with 20 chicken nuggets and a McFlurry. Daily. It was the only time I would leave the house, and it was the only time I felt satisfied. I would bite into the burger and the comfortable feeling would flood into my head and I would be happy. I would continue to eat even when I was stuffed and the food had no more taste to it because there was still food on the table. By the time I left my boyfriend and moved home, I was 221 pounds and in a size 18/20 at Lane Bryant. When I moved back home, I had to sleep in my son's race car bed. I had to put everything I owned in storage. I had no boyfriend, and I needed a job. I needed to get my shit together. I went to the doctor and found out I was pre-diabetic, which meant my blood sugar levels were on the threshold of becoming out of whack. My best friend was my savior. His own diabetes helped me realize I really didn't need that cheesecake slice when we would go out to eat. (Doesn't that sound awful? "Your diabetes saved me!") He also was my object of pure love and affection, which he fought off on a regular basis due to the fact that I had a LOT of demons I needed to figure out before I could be in a healthy, stable relationship (summed up in this statement: "You're not girlfriend material"). He also happened to be a black belt in karate, and taught me how to kick box (hes a triple threat!). I had gotten back down to 180 pounds, had the confidence to get my dream job, and to also make it on my own by moving out of my parents house after three years and moving out and relying on myself. (P.S. We finally ended up together)

Now, everything is a blur. You may have read my blogs where "Old Hed" is not me. I don't know where it went wrong, but I slowly gained weight after getting into a truly healthy relationship where I was unconditionally loved. I'm pretty sure that's not the depression-I think it's because I was a happy girlfriend? I weighed 200 pounds on my wedding day, roughly 18 months ago. Something clicked in me shortly after where I realized I had the great husband, the great job, the great house. I started growing increasingly anxious, that something terribly bad was going to happen; that there was nowhere else to go but down. I quit my job without notice, stopped going to school, and shut down completely. I am now 260 pounds. Yep. 260. I haven't told anyone that magical number. I am now closer to 300 pounds than I am to 200. I am over 100 pounds overweight. I can go on and on. These are the thoughts that run through my head on a regular basis. I don't spend intimate time with my husband anymore. I wear sweat pants. I've stopped wearing make-up. If you're like me, you may have watched a morbidly obese person stuck in a bed because they are so fat and thought, "how could they have let themselves get that FAT?" Well, if you're also like me, you have just stopped caring. Feeling. Being happy. When I have slept so much I can't sleep anymore and my husband is away, I am alone. I binge on food. I immediately feel at ease and happy when I eat. Even the feeling of fullness afterward makes me happy. When the feeling goes away, I am left with myself and my body and nothing else to feel. I truly loathe myself.

I have mentioned more than once to my husband if something like heroin wasn't illegal I would definitely try it. I see the emptiness behind addicts' eyes and I relate to it. The only way for them to take the pain away is to be high. That's how I feel with food. At this point, I don't know what else to do because I don't have the energy or motivation to make a change. See you at 300 pounds.

The List.

So, I found something that oddly made me so peaceful: fishing. On a boat in the middle of a lake. When you're out there, all you hear is the lake, all you see is the sky and the water, and when you fish, all you are thinking about is if you're going to catch the next fish. While cruising from one spot to another, the wind and lake water was zooming right past me and I was so at ease, so calm, I didn't even have time to register how at peace I was until we got in the car for the ride home. I was exhausted and sore from keeping my balance, and driving into the setting sun I thought to myself, "this was a great day. I almost caught a fish, haven't eaten in nine hours, and I feel great".

When I saw Dr. J the next day, I was still very tired and awfully sore. I apologized if I was loopy, and explained to her how I was feeling and how I had felt the previous day. She was happy I had found something that made me happy and mentally drained me. Even the time I was with Dr. J I was too tired to be anxious. We started talking about our usual topics: socializing more, finding ways to re-route the anxiety into something constructive (for example: when I think someone is staring AT me, find a positive reason why they would be looking my way, like my car is sexy. Something like that. Or when I get anxious, focus on breathing, or my hands, or a focal point.) I was doing my usual blabbing to her, and she had an epiphany: every time I said something positive about myself, I always finished it with "but" or "except". It's like every time I would give myself a +1, something negative would off-set it and I would be back to zero. It was genius and true. I never noticed it before. Even with that observation thrown out in the open, I was still doing it in our conversation. She stopped me and said, "this is what we are going to do. I want you to write down, right now, twenty things that you are good at". Seemed easy enough, right? Every time I thought of something, my brain automatically gave me a counter thought to squash that thought. We ended that meeting with thirteen written down, and even with those I have reservations on how confident I am with that list. Another thing that was noticed is that when I would say a characteristic, it would usually start like, "my boss said once I was good at..." or "do you think I am...?" I never once told Dr. J "I am good at (blank). I am kick-ass at (blank)". Everything I think of myself, I think of myself as that because someone thought that of me, I didn't think it about myself first. Just another reason that my entire self-worth is based on views by others. One reason I always thought of myself as a good manager was because I meld very well with lots of different personalities. The real reason I do that is because I don't have a personality. I almost base it on who I am with, or what I need to be that day. It's hard to write that down, because you don't want to think of yourself as this blob of Jello that is only molded when someone else puts their hands on it, but that's me. I have always been great at conflict resolution (ooh, I need to write that one down on my list) because even if I KNOW I am right I will still come to you and apologize. These problems with myself I have no solutions to. If I did I probably wouldn't be seeing a doctor every week, eh?

Here is what I have so far, and in parenthesis is why they are still not great:

1. Writing (I was TOLD I am a good writer. I think I am too, BUT I seem to lack a conclusion a lot of the time.)

2. Video Games! (BUT you won't see me in some world-class tournament, I'm not that skilled)

3. Love (BUT only towards others, not towards myself.)

4. Conflict resolution (Damn! It was already on the list!!)

5. Friendliness (BUT I am a terrible friend. I don't follow-up with my friends at all.)

6. Funny (I have been TOLD I am funny)

7."Sexy Time" (I have been TOLD [many times hee hee] that I am good at this, BUT it's been so long since I've felt sexy I wouldn't know where to start)

8. Smart (BUT my brain is so full of thoughts and ideas it's extremely hard to follow thorough)

9. Make-up (Yes, once upon a time I would do my friends' make-up for special occasions and just for the hell of it BUT I am so ugly now, I don't even do it on myself anymore.)

10. Bowling! (I love bowling, BUT I could use a lot of skill and technique)

11. Communication (EXCEPT my mind wanders so much it's hard to follow through, see #8)

12. Small Talk (I can BS with the best of them, BUT with my social anxiety popping up I usually mumble at strangers or acquaintances.)

13. Relatable (I have been TOLD I put people at ease, BUT I'm usually lying or I'm molding to whomever I'm talking to)

So that's the list I made with her. A couple of things I know I'm good at that wouldn't be on the list are:

14. Food (I can eat and eat and eat some more, and eat when I'm sick or sad or sleepy)

15. Being Lazy (I've said it a million times, if there was an Olympic sport for sleeping, I would win the Gold)

16. Depression (It's been six months straight, the longest run of depression I have ever had. It's hard to see a light at the beginning or end of the tunnel now.)

17. Bad Thoughts (every minute of every day I am convinced something bad is going to happen)

18. Being Fat (At this point I don't even recognize myself)

19.

20.

I can't even think of negatives at this point. I just wish there was a such thing as a brain transplant. Maybe you can tell me what YOU think so I can add them to my list. Oh wait, I'm supposed to figure these out by myself. I don't even know what "myself" is.

Random.

I've had so much on my mind the last week, yet I don't really have a "theme" for this blog. I guess I'll see where my stream-of consciousness takes me.

I saw my therapist Dr. J last Thursday, as I have every Thursday for the last two months at least. She is a student therapist, and part of her schooling is to intern at the clinic I go to for nine months. As of the end of June, her time is up and she gets to transfer to UCLA. I'm happy for her (and unbelievably jealous that she is in medical school to begin with) but also really upset. The sessions it took for me to really open up to her and the time I have had with her feel wasted now. Our last session will be with her but also my new therapist that's taking me on, who happens to also be female. That's a little comforting. I feel that if I break down in front of a woman it's okay; but in front of a man I would be perceived as weak. Even though a man psychologist would still be obligated to use his "psych" brain, I think in all of us we have subconscious cues about how we observe, judge, think, etc. My anxiety is overwhelming at the thought of meeting someone new who I have to pour my heart out to-again. What if she isn't welcoming? What if she doesn't do as good a job? Anyone who has ever been to more than one therapist in their life knows that they have to be a good fit for you. Dr. J put me at ease right away; she was honest, sincere, and laid-back-I think her essence always calmed me down. Wish me luck. I don't want to lose all the progress I've already gotten.

The past two weeks have just been a complete spiral. Three Mondays ago I woke up miserable with a sinus cold or something, and I didn't have the discipline that day to plan my meals, so I ended up blowing my diet. My diets require strictness, because just like everything else in my life, if I cheat or falter just once I'm doomed. It's like a snowball effect. The day after that I binged at McDonalds. I mean straight up binging. After that all bets were off. I felt the change, too. I had the energy to first start the diet because I had started new meds that gave me a pep in my step, and after the toxic effect of fast food and junk food left my body I felt amazing. Two or three days after the binge, I am miserable. Thoughts of suicide have crossed my path (FYI-Not only did I make a promise to Dr. J I would not harm myself, I made a vow to my husband, and the love I feel for him is so strong I would never, ever want to cause him harm-so don't worry about me vs. suicide: I'll win.), I've slept longer, stopped doing regular chores like the dishes, the laundry, and feel unbelievably depressed at the most random times. Just yesterday I was in the shower and I just stood there and stared at the wall for about five minutes. I can't shut off my brain when I'm depressed or anxious, which is 99% of the time, so I always have something on my mind to ruin my 1% state of well-being. Friends tell me all about the wonderful effects of exercise, fruits and vegetables, schedules; they share with me their success stories and how it worked out for them. Are any of them bipolar? No, pretty sure they are all functional adults. I listen to their advice, and try my damnedest to follow, but when you can't leave your house or your bed, exercise is the last thing on your mind. Tomorrow I am going grocery shopping (my fridge is literally a condiment-and-diet soda only zone at the moment, and milk-less cereal) and I have no plans to buy crap food, so that's a start. Something I do before I shop is stop at the Starbucks and grab my venti macchiato before I cruise the aisles so I'm not hungry at all. My husband goes with me most of the time, and we get one "cheat" food, and mine is almost always ice cream. Because I am on disability at the moment, our food budget is limited, and it makes me SO MAD that good food is TWICE as expensive as crap food. I could probably write a whole other blog about why that is causing obesity in America. I want to buy a big balance ball so I can do something while I'm confined to this tiny apartment. Wish me luck on that too, please.

I think the worst thing ever about the past few weeks is that I am becoming more and more disassociated with me and my former self. I look in the mirror and see a stranger. When my husband touches me or kisses me, I start to cry. I don't want him to touch my skin, or look at my face because it almost feels like he is kissing someone else. If you read this you probably think I am going crazy. Well, that's how I feel too. I am Hed. But I am not. Even my brain functions are changing. Little glimmers of my former self pop up, but as soon as I realize that's not me anymore I stop feeling happy. When I kiss my husband more than once, I have to stop because it makes me sick, literally sick to my stomach that he is kissing this. I've tried to explain to him that I am not the person he married, that he should call it and leave me, but him being him, he is by my side. Fat Bastard from the "Austin Powers" movies, in a moment of clarity, says "I eat because I'm unhappy, and I'm unhappy because I eat. It's a vicious cycle". That describes me at the moment. I should name my present self "FB".

So this is the past two weeks in a nutshell. I don't see much change on the horizon. As much as I wish I could will it all away, I can't. I never have been able to. But don't worry about me, I'm stuck here and something will happen sooner or later that will make the present me become the past me and I will look back and have insight and wisdom. I at least know that. So, until that happens, wish me luck.

I'm Obese.

Sometimes I wake up to random songs in my head, and I'm always thinking of funnier song lyrics instead of what they are singing. Here's one of them, to the tune of "Imma Be" by Black Eyed Peas. COPYRIGHT! ©

I'm obese, I'm obese, ima ima I'm obese

I'm obese, I'm obese, ima ima I'm obese

I'm obese, I'm obese, ima ima I'm obese

I'm ob-be-be-be im I'm obese

I'm ob-be-be-be im I'm obese

Imma be at the next buffet

Imma be droolin' at the dessert bay

Imma be chuggin me some Mountain-Mountain Dew

Imma be full from all the food I'm gonna chew

Imma be up in Mickey D's

Eatin oreo flurries

And maybe a double-double cheese cause

Imma be eatin some fries

You gonna hear me "super size"

Imma be eatin them chips

Wipin my mouth and chins

Imma be the fattest chick (so fat!)

Imma be eatin chicken wings

Imma be dippin onion rings (dip it dip it) okay!

Imma Imma eatin this plate

Imma Imma Imma be eating that plate

It's fatty fat fat

Imma Imma eat me some steak

The Sizzler restaurant can't keep me away!

I'm obese, I'm obese, ima ima I'm obese

I'm obese, I'm obese, ima ima I'm obese

(Big baby big big) ima ima I'm obese

(A pig baby check me out) be ima ima I'm obese

(The last drop never stop) be be ima ima I'm obese

I'm ob-be-be-be im I'm obese

(Ima be freakin fat) ima ima I'm obese

I'm ob-be-be-be im I'm obese

Ima be upgradin robes and mumus

Ima be gettin extra large in my shoes

Ima be trying to see my toes

Ima be washin myself with a hose

Ima be thunder thighs watch my belly rise

No not with breathin just from me eatin

Ima be big from my diabetes

Ima be pourin sugar on my Wheaties

Honey and jam baby goin on my toast

I don't really mind if it gets on my clothes

Imma be ima be ima I'm ima be (big baby)

Imma be ima be ima I'm ima be

Sick from the food and the goal was to eat the whole bowl

Ima need some Pepto, Ima need some mo

Reason that I ordered all my food for "to-go"?

Ima shove all of it in my piehole

Ima be up in my house

Eatin whatever I like

Ima be eatin that nacho cheese

Eatin it every day of my life

Oh lets make this last forever

Goin on a milkshake bender

On and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and...

Ima be eatin like this

Philly Cheese smothered in swiss

Munchin and scarfin like a slob

Eatin like it's my job

I don't care if it's old and stuff

Cold or hot or it's soft or tough

Finish it all, I'm not full enough

A million plus spent on greasy junk

I'm obese

I'm obese

I'm obese

I'm obese

Ima be eatin that fast food

Ima be eatin that food food (x4)

(Whip.....cream.....crave it)

I'm obese

I'm obese

I'm obese

(Nau-nau-seous)

Ima ima ima be eatin it

Don't care that my pants just split

E-A-T is definite

Hope that I do not vomit

Future is I'll probably be

at the nearest KFC

Bucket or a family feast

Throwin trash in my backseat

Across town is a Wendy's

Have room for a large Frosty

Hamburger, why not three

Throw on there some extra cheese

Reese's, Milky Way, Hershey's

In my purse for emergencies

Every day, you will see

Eatin food like I'm obese!

I'm obese

Sins of the Father.

So last night I was trying to explain to my husband that the lack of my father in my life isn't really a big deal to me anymore. He retorted, "don't you want to spend time with him? I mean, all that time he was with [name removed to protect the evil monster that is my dad's ex-girlfriend] you haven't really been able to connect with him". Because of my analogous nature, I explained, "Babe, what if you bought two lottery tickets every day for a year, and ticket A paid out like every other day, and ticket B over the course of a year paid a dollar. If by next year you could only afford one ticket, would you buy ticket A or B? You would totally pick A, and kick yourself for spending all that money on B in the first place!" Yeah that's how I feel for my mother and stepfather versus my father, respectively.

Growing up, as stated in my earlier blog "Blood", my dad was the cool guy. He let me sleep in his giant bed when he would be in his office with friends. I would ask him questions that he would answer speaking to me like I was an adult. He told me about the Donner Party (go Wiki it!), told me the story about how he smoked Opium for the first time and woke up on the airstrip of Edwards Air Force Base three days later, argued with me about politics when I was 8. I would wake up in the middle of the night and my dad would be MIA. I would find him at the end of our property in his shed building something. It was so cool that he was a free spirit, and people would be in and out of his house all the time, just to stop by because my dad was just kick-ass. Of course I didn't know at 8 that all of those events could be considered classic signs of meth-amphetamine addiction.

When I was a little kid, my dad would promise to come pick me up from my moms at a certain time. Both my mother and I remember what I did like it came out of a movie: I would have my hands pressed up against the living room window, looking onto the street and KNOWING that black car was my dad. Or maybe that next black car. Oh, it's definitely the next one. Three or four hours after calling him non-stop, or crying my eyes out, my dad would either call or show up and state that a)he got a flat tire, b)got pulled over for a speeding ticket, c)had to finish a job for someone, or any variations of the three. As soon as I saw my dad the tears would stop and I was in for a fun-filled weekend with my DAD! He would tell me about a museum an hour away that had this really cool exhibit he was going to take me to the next day at 11am. Before he would tuck me in I would ask "okay, so we're going tomorrow? Right? At 11? Can we get McDonalds on the way?" and he would tell me, "yes, yes. Now get some sleep!" 10am would come and I would wake up my dad, and he would tell me, "okay, come back in a half hour, I just need to sleep". 10:30am on the dot I would come back and it would be another half hour. After a while he would get angry because I woke him up so much, so I would just hang out in the living room, watching TV and eating whatever was in the fridge. Sometimes I would get bored and walk a block alone to my mom's parents house or go next door and play with my neighbor. My dad would wake up around 4pm and promised that we could go the next day at 11am. Rinse, and repeat.

I always ended up defending my father to my mother. I was a classic case of "stuck in the middle"-my mom would call dad a loser, or a bum, or make me ask where child support was, and my dad would call my mom a rich bitch and have me tell her the check was in the mail. He owned his own landscaping company when I was younger, and lost it. I never knew why until I was an adult (drugs). I always defended my dad, usually in an argument with my mom more than any other time. The thing was, when my dad would bad mouth my mom, I would usually snicker along or keep quiet. She did ask a lot for money. I mean, sheesh, she worked. She had money! Why would she need any more from my dad? Isn't my dad doing enough already? Looking back, I realize all I ever did was defend my dad, and for nothing. He was a drug addict. He lost his teeth and told me it was from "getting older". He went to jail on more than one occasion, which he always told me was from a parking or speeding ticket he didn't pay. One time he got arrested in front of me, and they handcuffed him and put the both of us in the back of the police car. I had to give them my mother's phone number through terror and sobbing and they dropped me off at a restaurant to wait for my mom to pick me up while they took my dad God knows where. When my mom did pick me up, she tried to rationalize the situation, and I was so mad at her for not caring that they picked my dad up! And took him away! And didn't tell me where!!!

When I was in fourth grade he had a job as the groundskeeper of a beautiful private university. He would take me with him to work when he was stuck with me on the weekends, and I got to see every bit of the college-the campus kitchen, the alumni house, the dorms. He said that as a part of his benefit package, I got a "free ride" to the university when I graduated high school. When the students would leave for the summer to go back home, he even showed me what "dumpster diving" was-when you hopped into the trash bins and picked up old walkmans, telephones, clothes, etc. I was too girly and grossed-out to ever hop in a dumpster, but I was fascinated by what people threw out and my dad was pretty much a treasure hunter in my mind. One day I found out he had lost his job. He told me that the morning last week he dropped me off at school he was late for work and they fired him. I was devastated for him, and felt just terrible for being the reason he lost his job. I am now 29, with an 11-year-old. If I got fired for any reason pertaining to my son I would never let him know. Ever. Who would put a burden like that on a child? I mean, 20 years later I pass by that university every day and think to myself, I could have gone here. I could have been successful.

In seventh grade my mom remarried and I chose to live with my dad. The year before he let me have a party at his house and let me invite boys. He left us alone and we played spin the bottle. Coolest. Dad. Ever! My thoughts when I packed up my stuff and showed up on his front porch was he's gonna leave me alone and I can just do whatever I want. How right I was. After about a day he dropped me off at his parents house, who I had a history of not getting along with, and they gave me the guest house. I was totally a grown-up. And never felt so alone. Most of the time my dad wasn't around, and my grandparents left me to my own devices. I walked to school, ate what I wanted, and pretty much did what I wanted. (Note: Thank God for Pearl Jam's album "Ten" during this period; I don't know what would have happened if I didn't have that tape.) One day my grandma was taking me to my Saturday sports league-something my dad was supposed to take me to every week, but was too sick to go this week (drugs). Once we got in the car she started yelling at me about how selfish and ungrateful a child I was, and that my dad is sick and needs help and I only cared about myself. She pulled the car over, grabbed my head, and repeatedly slammed it into the passenger side window. I was shocked and stunned. She dropped me off and told me she would pick me up three hours later. I had a friend call my mom, and she picked me up right away and I was not allowed to see my father for a very long time. When I tried to tell him what his mother had done, he told me I was over-exaggerating, and said "I have no choice but to love my mother. You don't have to like your parents, but you have to love them." He or my grandmother never apologized for what they did, and the aftermath ended up with my first therapy sessions at 12 years old.

When I became a pre-teen, my dad told me on more than one occasion, "you are going to become a teenager soon and we won't have these talks anymore. You will be too busy with school, your friends, and boys, and hanging with your dad will be lame". I thought he was out of his mind. I would never stop loving my dad or wanting to see him. All these years later I realize the statement was true. I just didn't think it would still hold as an adult.