A Secret. And my struggles

i gained back five pounds. That's no secret and has nothing to do with anything. but it does.

to begin, the secret. i stole an ambienCR from my sister-in-law and took it yesterday. i haven't decided what to do -- to tell her, to pray that she doesn't notice, to try to get more. i've actually taken (there's an easy word) four from her over the last month. she'll probably notice. this was the first in a while, and the first since my rehab. usually, i'd just get my own from a local doctor from very rare time-to-time. but that's no defense. here IS one defense -- i have asked her many, many times not to leave her Ambien in her bedside drawer, because it is such a lure. that doesn't quite take away the fact that I, a 44 year-old woman, am going into her drawer in her home and stealing sleep pills.

ahhh, what a sleep i slept and how great i felt today. cheerful, rested and upbeat. not sedated and nauseous like i do on the stuff they let me take. the extreme lethary and nausea have been concerning me, but there's really nothing else that doesn't mess with your brain and doesn't make you addicted. it all stinks!

it also stinks that most people seem able to drink moderately. And some people can just stop drinking whenever they feel like it, and it's a not problem ---yes, i do mean you Boyfriend.

we have my sister who's in town (more on her natural skinniness later), and that one wine or glass of champagne she sips and sometimes doesn't finish, throughout the meal. (let's not forget the dessert she has no interest in, et. al.) to her left sits my brother-in-law who grew up wealthy in Europe and pairs his two glasses of wine to the food. he's drinking for the taste! my brother who likes diet coke with his six courses and coffee with sweet-in-low with dessert. and to his left, i give you my sister-in-law on her fourth beer, getting a little red and a little nasty. i resent her too -- no one's telling her to stop drinking. and she gets to drink so much.

i resent everyone who's not me. i want my wine!!!! hello.

it's been a hard holiday season, but it's winding down. i don't want to see a glass of wine for a long, long, long time.

on christmas eve, we went to the Boyfriend's family's. his brothers and sisters-in-law drink for utter recreation on the holidays. his sister-in-law was taste-testing wines. his brothers mixed decadent cocktails all evening. his father (from the old country) did shots. the Boyfriend didn't drink, but he didn't care.

i had no clue what to do with myself, especially when they all spoke Ukranian for the grandparents, aunt and uncles sakes. they've all known each other all their lives. the grandparents met when they first got to the US, and all the kids and their wives went to nursery school together.

usually, a couple of glasses of wine put me at ease. instead, i ate a lot (back to those five pounds.)

thursday, i met a friend at our favorite bar where we know some of the customers. i had diet coke, she had one glass of wine, at my insistence. usually, we'd drink quite a few together. i don't think the bar life is for me now. i was dying of "thirst".

saturday's party was better than expected. most folks didn't drink, but once again, i ate way more than was comfortable.

sunday, monday and tuesday, my brother, his wife and i ate with my sister's family in very (too) expensive beautiful restaurants in manhattan. again, i longed for wine and ate like a super bowl champ. what's with all this over-eating?

my sister's in from pittsburgh. she hasn't gained weight since she had her last kid 13 years ago, and even then, she looked great in a tiny bikini a month later.

i've been jealous since the day i was born, eight years after she. my sister was my EXACT oppositive. she was pretty, never needed braces or glasses, didn't have zits, she was a cheerleader and popular. and always thin. naturally. with no addictions. none.

my sister married a lovely doctor who came from great wealth, and they bore the two greatest kids in the world (i swear, i'm not subjective!) she hasn't worked in eighteen years and takes a lot of french and dance classes. and i can't forget all her charity work.

they travel constantly, often to monaco, where his dad lives. it's a great life.

Sis scratch bakes and cooks and cleans. her home is exquite. grrr.

i have other issues with my sister, which are harder. when my mom was ill, my sister only came at christmas for the final five years. she lived an hours flight, and she didn't work. one year, they took four holidays but refused to visit my mother, because they didn't want to put the dog in the kennel one more time.

my mother begged her to come and to bring the beloved grandchildren, who ADORED my mother. my sister refused, saying she was being guilt-tripped into visiting. she talked to my mom all the time on the phone but wouldn't come from pittsburgh to nj. when she did make that once a year visit, her family would spend all their time in NY while my mother was bedridden in NJ. do i sound a little bitter?

i visited my mom every holiday, weekend and during the week if need be until the last six months, when i discovered crack and stealing. i can't really talk about this yet. i can't believe i wrote it here.

during that time, only my best-friend and the care-giver we hired saw my mom. my sister still refused, and my brother and she were fairly estranged. sis called me all the time, trying to get me to put down the crack pipe and visit my mother. she even "threatened" to come and get me herself (yeah, right). i told her that the best thing she could do for me was visit my mother, so mom wasn't alone at a time i was too messed up to help her. nope.

i got clean for two months, and my family agreed to let me see my mom (i'd been banned),but she fell and went into a coma. HER LAST DAYS WERE THE HARDEST I'D HOPE EVER TO LIVE, watching this vibrant woman in a coma and holding her while she died.

i went back to crack and things got worse. my sister was furious with me and didn't talk to me for almost another year. now, we're friendly. she has no idea that she might have done anything imperfect.

i work on forgiveness. i will never forgive myself. that's okay. i would like to learn to understand that my sister came from her own weird, weak place. some days are better and easier than others.

on those days that i'm giving up booze and drugs, i'm crankier than others.

i haven't had a drink or klonopin and i told my therapist, my group and you about the ambien. before i wrote, i worried that you'd all think i'm awful. this is where i tell the truth. it helps me get real. thanks for listening.

on the wagon

it's harder this time -- being clean and sober. i'm not sure why. perhaps it's because i'm taking it seriously this time? last time i stopped drinking, i think i knew i'd drink again.

this time, i seem to have realized that i can't and don't drink moderately. i've kept the receipt warning the cop gave me instead of a DUI right next to my computer, so i'll see it everyday. To remember that there are serious repercussions when i drink and take pills. i can not drink, and i cannot take sedatives. bah, humbug.

last time, i didn't discuss how tough it was. sometimes, when we get off substances, we feel so good and proud and physically better -- that's called a pink cloud. i had one for a month after i got off crack and the last time i gave up alcohol and, later, pills. not so, this time. it's been rougher and harder.

last time i got off alchol, it was in rehab, surrounded by people who'd been drinking god knows what or how much for more years than they could remember. many were shaking and ill from the withdrawal. my experience was easy in comparison and, so, perhaps i didn't take it as seriously. and i was still taking klonopin and ambien.

this time is HARD. i've been out at a bar twice and have gone to one party. i've got a party tomorrow night and dinner with my whole family Sunday, Monday and possible Tuesday too. my sister-in-law will drink her usual 4, my brother-in-law will have his usual two, and my sister will gracefully nurse her one. and we'll have delicious food, which is, for me at this point in recovery, far less delicious that it would be with a full-bodied cab. (it bugs how much i long for wine. and shows me, again, how good it is that i'm in recovery.))

one side effect of this whole experience -- i feel like i have narcilepsy. my eyes close all the time, no matter how much sleep i get. they're starting to droop.

tomorrow, i'll tell you about my christmas dinner and the two nights at a bar. my sense -- the smart thing to do is to limit those activities. they take a lot out of me.

off to bed. i hope i feel a little rested tomorrow. (i hope we all feel rested tomorrow.)

a funny thing happened on the way to the scale

okay, so this is my fourth or is it fifth post of the day? think someone's got some energy to burn?

back to my weight. i'm not going to ignore it. i've lost seven pounds since i started this detox. do i like it? you betcha.

but this time i'm not buying it. are you listening ED?

we know i've kind of "hermitted" myself in for the detox, but please, i spent a good part of yesterday looking at my flat stomach. (i think it's time to start getting out, maybe?)

i loved my flat stomach. i admired it much of the day.

admittedly, the first two days of detox i was nauseous and appetite-free. admittedly, dumping the bottle of wine cost me some calories, and it IS snowy and icey out and i didn't feel well, so i didn't make my usual food runs.

but, i liked that flat stomach way too much.

when i hopped eagerly on to my brother's scale this morning it said 124. not the 131 i've been weighing recently, nor the 134 i brought back from california.

124 isn't low for many (some of you may think that's a humongous number), but it's too low for me. i can't maintain it without going hungry.

the number frightened me. i don't want to go back. i don't want to watch my stomach all day.

today, i ate. breakfast, lunch, steak and rice (and asparagus) for dinner and some cookies. when my tummy rumbled, i ate.

I AM NOT GOING BACK!

i have to remember

....that the last time i came off klonopin, i felt EVEN worse. that the last time i came off klonopin, i weaned myself. this time i went cold turkey. that the last time i came off klonopin, i was sick for over a week, even after i'd weaned myself down. that the last i time i came off klonopin, i was already off alcohol.

giving up klonopin and a bottle of wine is difficult. i can not expect to feel well (read -- NOT ANXIOUS) quickly. (i'm currently a hyped up stream-of-consciousness ball of nerves.)

the last time it took over a week, and i finally felt human again.

i have to remember that i will feel human again.

the kittens

just back from visiting my bro's new puppy, Bo, and the very disgruntled cat, Becky.

i call the cat Miss Kitty for two reasons. 1) she's got quite the temperment. i picture her as a dominatrix and 2) she's the second becky. it's weird for two cats in a row to have the same name.

becky 1 came to us when i was eight years old. i was such a miserable, lonely child. my parents thought a cat would be good for me.

becky was a beautiful sleek full-bred siamese. i named her after the most beautiful person i knew, a woman named rebecca.

unfortunately, becky the cat was a biter. she'd chase after all my mother's piano students, trying to chomp on their little fingers. she terrorized everyone.

my father thought all of this was hysterical. my parents were going thru a very nasty separation, except neither one of them would leave the house. for FIVE years. (and that's a story for another day.)

anyway, my dad hated all the piano students and possibly me and certainly my mother, so becky's little "love bites" tickled him endlessly.

i'd never asked for a cat and once she got nasty, i was terrified of her too. when my dad finally moved out (hallelujah) when i was 13, he took his beloved becky with him. i didn't see either of them for several years. somehow we got back in touch for a little bit when i was about 17

evidently, becky tortured their new neighborhood. folks at the local diner would talk about the awful cat who lived down the road. my dad, a creature of absolute habit, went to the diner every morning and chuckled to himself -- no one knew he was the owner of Terror Cat.

eventually, someone poisoned becky, the true love of my dad's life. i didn't see him cry when his brother died suddenly of a heart attack and his sister died the following week of cancer. with becky's death, he wept openly and often and vowed not to get another animal because of the pain of the loss.

fast forward more than 20 years, and my dad, in his late 80s adopted a rescue cat and named her Becky, the second love of his life. she's a biter too. after my dad's death, my brother took the cat and we all swear she's got my dad's temperment. she'll kiss you and love, then chomp hard on your nose. all of us wear Becky Bruises.

this post wasn't mean to be about the becky's. it got more involved than i expected. this post was meant to be about the kittens.

after a miserable childhood, i became a far, far more miserable teenager -- morose, mean, angry, sad, lonely. i gained 50 pounds, bingeing alone in the house, had no friends for years and despised my life. my mother, with her new horrible young drug addict lover, didn't know what to do with me. especially as she was spending more time in nyc with him than in nj with me. (i sound bitter, don't i? i still have the urge to say "sorry, mom".)

my mother had no idea what to do with me. bright idea -- she'd get me kittens.

i didn't want kittens. i was in no place to take care of animals -- i was a depressed kid who was having a rough time taking any kind of care of herself. my mother insisted they'd be good for me, and we'd be getting them whether i liked it or not. i didn't.

i named them mimi and mittens (i felt bad that mittens got a less fancy name, but she looked like a mitten), but i had no interest in them. i didn't want to care for them. cat food made me gag, and cleaning litter provokes a more severe reaction. even to this day, i get super nauseous if my family's away, and i have to feed Becky and change her litter. imagine me at 14.

the kittens came from a farm in minnesota (long story) and were probably too young to have been taken. they shit ALL over the house. all the time. when my mother was teaching, she'd throw them in the basement, so they wouldn't bother the students. eventually, they spent most of their time in the basement. alone.

i didn't know what to do. i didn't want these pooping machines but felt endless remorse and guilt about the horrible lives they were living. i tried to be nice to them, but i was such a troubled kid. i wanted nothing to do with them.

one day, i came home from school, and the kittens were gone. my mother told me that one of her piano students let them out accidentally, and they couldn't be found.

my heart races even now, knowing that whatever happened, it was no good for those kittens. and races harder, for the guilt i felt then and now at the great relief their disappearance brought.

we never spoke of them again.

telling on myself

i woke up this morning to the following email:

Dear Melissa:
-------------------------
You can save money on 30 Generic klonopin 1mg Pills
-------------------------
You will not have to leave the comfort of your home at, Mountain Rd.
to receive your order
-------------------------
We meet your needs at (I ERASED THE NAME OF THE WEBSITE)
-------------------------

Melissa J, Collect from us a New ID : (ALSO DELETED)
-------------------------
add the New ID while placing a new order

I have not erased the email. i twiddled with ordering.
wouldn't it be nice to sleep really well?
and wake-up anxiety free?

again, i have not erased the email. i tell myself to erase it,
because if i'm that crazy for klonopin, i can always find it online
again. but i hold this in my inbox, because this place sent it quickly
and sent good klonopin.(always dicey when you're ordering from who knows
where.)

i need to delete this. i must delete this. but i'm not ready, and
that's a bad sign.

okay, i'm going to delete it. ow, this one hurts.

DELETED AND EMPTIED FROM TRASH!!! THANK YOU
BLOGGER BUDDIES.

sleeping and eating

i'm having a lot of trouble sleeping. a lot of wine and klonopin put me out and kept me out.

i've always been an insomniac. my natural sleep pattern is to fall asleep at 4 am and wake up at 11. when i waitressed or house managed theaters, that worked well.

but now i can't even sleep. i have trouble falling asleep and staying asleep and then nap on and off all day. not great patterns! i hope this gets better. i often think sleep is the most important thing in our lives. with enough sleep, we can do anything.

lack of sleep always makes me eat more. i think it will give me energy or i'm just too tired not to eat constantly. i don't like that whole deal!!!!!!!!!

eating's been weird during my detox. like the last time i came off klonopin, i've been nauseous and have zero appetite. and food looks and smells icky. i have eaten bits of things and made myself have dinner at my brother's tonight. it's even weirder, because i have my period, and that's when i always eat the most.

this pattern worries me, because it starts to become interesting. i've lost four pounds (that will happen when you cut out a bottle or so of wine a night and have no appetite.)

i hear my ED getting excited. "see, Melissa, you don't need to eat. look how little you're eating now. excellent work. bravo."

will he ever shut up?

i do feel certain that my appetite will return and my constant interest in food will return. this exact thing happened the last time i cut out klonopin and my ulcer flared like crazy. i lost a ton of weight, thought it was cool and interesting, but started eating again, like i always do.

so, this post was kind of blah. i initially wrote it so no one would read the one after it. i guess i do want you to read it. i've considered deleting it so many times or asking a friend's opinion first (you've heard this one before), but i'm leaving it up and keeping my fingers crossed that i made the right decision.

i didn't go

this is a hard post to write. i feel like i'm letting everyone down.

i didn't go to rehab. i was scared. i didn't want to have a stranger for a roommate. i didn't want to make the drive. i didn't want my tweezers taken away. and to not be able to shut the door to my room. and i got my period wednesday and new they'd never give me enough motrin to deal with my incredible cramps.

i think my therapist missed something in our last session Tuesday. i wanted to talk about how scared i was to go. she wanted to talk about how i was going to stay clean and sober after i got out.

proudly, i'm detoxing at home. i'm taking a double dose of antabuse (it's allowed), so there's no way i can get near a drink. (it's weird blogging without a class of wine next to me.)

and i'm withdrawing from klonopin. this is less easy. i'm shakey and not all here, but it's nowhere near as bad as last time. MOOD SWINGS!

it's actually kind of pleasant taking this time for me. i'm reading a great book, taking lots of baths and talking on the phone to my one friend who knows i'm home. she came and took me out for lunch and to the drugstore to refill my antabuse prescription.

my boyfriend has been great. he's leaving me alone, which i need. he calls to see how i'm doing, and if i want him to come over. i tell him no. i need to go thru this by myself.

we're expecting a major snow storm tomorrow, so he brought me groceries, because i will definetely be snowed in up here on the mountain. and a jewelry box, because i don't have one. and i love my jewelry

he told me how much he loves me. he's been through this before with me detoxing and withdrawing and it's so foreign to him.

i asked if he'd go to counseling with me. first, to understand more about addiction, so he can get a better idea of this whole crazy, awful thing. second, i want us to work some stuff out in our relationship. he said yes.

my one wonderful friend and darius are the only two people who know i didn't go. now you all do.

i'm happy to have this free time. last time i detoxed, i was working a super stressful job. and i had to lie about y i needed time off. and i went back to work the very next day, emotionally and physically drained. in this job, i'm off until after new years.

i want to say i got clean and sober in 2008. not 2009.

one day and counting.

not enough time!

i'm irritated here on many fronts. i have three minutes before i have to leave the house to get a physical before they'll admit me to the hospital tomorrow. thus far, i have packed 12 pens, three books, thirteen magazines, a night gown, two notebooks and alcohol free moisturizer. oh, and three packs of cigarettes -- remember i don't smoke. good work, melissa.

after the physical, i have to run to the office to finish up some last minute work. my brother is being amazing about this.

then, i jump the bus to nyc for therapy (two hour trip) and back again to arius' where there is no internet.

but i'm really mad that all of you guys put up such great posts and i want to respond to all of them. my fingers wish they could stay home while i'm off being a grown-up. i'll try tomorrow morning, but i'll be busy making sure to pack more than pens and cigarettes i don't even smoke!

i hope i have the chance to "talk" to all before i go. well, now i'm late to the doctor. ahh, let him wait for once.

lots of love and so many thanks for all your support.
melissa

lose weight/constipate

who am i kidding? (whom?) the last time i went to rehab, i lost 3 pounds in five days. no alcohol, lots of salad bar.

you may ask yourself -- is melissa looking forward to that again? is she, perhaps, plotting to restrict while quitting booze and pills? hm. what do you think?

well, there are two answers here. the first is, yes, i'm picturing those nice salad bars, and god knows they keep you so medicated, i couldn't make it to breakfast if Hugh Jackman, himself. carried me down. i'd tell him to f-off, bring me back to bed, and don't even think about any funny stuff (not that the sexiest man alive would be thinking about funny stuff with moi.)

but there's a second answer. i really no longer have any patience for dieting or restricting. it's BORING. and i've been bored for way too many years. so, we'll see.

the other issue is my brutally abused digestive tract. i can not do nothing without a fleet enema. a renowned rectal surgeon (yes, that's what it says on his card AND he's listed in new york magazine as one of new yorks best doctors. fancy, huh?) told me that it was okay to use an enema every day. better than laxatives, because they go thru your system. i have severe blockages and hernias in my intestinal tract. (so sorry for all this info!)

the nice people at silver hill hospital don't want to give me enemas, because they don't understand. they think it's part of an eating disorder purging ritual and refuse to hearme on this issue.

i'm tempted to take immodium, so i just don't have to go for FIVE days. it sounds awful, but it's better than the alternative?

does anyone else deal with this "shit"?

Ode to Wine

it is going be very difficult for me to give up wine. i love it. i spend so much money on it. i'm going to put $15 a day, every day, in a jar. that's what i spend on wine every day. unless i'm treating myself to some ridiculously priced scrumptious cabernet.

wine is everywhere. my girlfriends and i meet at bars and have a great time. she usually flirts with the bartender, and we end up getting free drinks. i love being out. the boyfriend hates it, and i've mentioned i've used vino to dull the issues there.

i don't want to go out to eat if i can't have wine. i know i'll need to stay home for a while. but i love to drink at home too. still, it's a little easier than restaurants.

this sounds bizarre, but i'm serious -- who wants to eat out and not have a drink? diet coke and lamb chops?

the holidays are coming. i planned to be clean before christmas. the early days of sobriety are usually easy and filled with pride. i was going to put rehab off until after the holidays, but there is no time for the present.

being around drinkers is hard. when i was sober for three months, it got harder as time passed.

one of the hardest -- i visited my sister and we had lovely meals, night after night. she and her husband weren't working that week. they both drank with dinner each night. my sister sips one, slowly. so slowly. there's still a bit left when dinner's over. her husband usually had two. i was dying. the thing is. i don't sip one over a three hour period. and then switch to decaf.

can i ask people not to drink around me for a while? that makes me uncomfortable too.

my sister-in-law is quite a drinker. but bless her wooden leg, she can drink 5 beers and go write a smashing proposal for her job. whenever we go out, she drinks and drinks and drinks. we'll be traveling a lot over the next few months. it's going to be hard. but not impossible.

i want this sobriety. i choose it. it's for me. i'm not a victim.

i thought this post was going to be a love letter to big cabernets, but it wasn't. it's a note to self about why i'm doing this. i want to be proud of myself. i want to be under no influence if stopped by a cop. i want a clear head to make healthy choices.

i'm doing this for me, but i'm also doing it for my niece. i love her like my own. we text all the time. we email. we phone (she lives in pittsburgh.) if i visit her, she and i get in trouble for staying up and giggling all night. i want to be clean and sober for her. i don't want her to see her beloved Auntie Mel drunk at xmas dinner.

i've got some good reasons. and there are more

the near DUI

i don't believe in angels, but someone's trying to remind that i really do need rehab.

this has never happened to me before, but i was pulled over by TWO police cars. yes, i'm a terrible night driver. yes, i was on the phone, yapping with my sister, but YES i had taken klonopin, taken a nap and woken up beyond groggy at 6;30 pm.

late to the boyfriends, i threw on clothes and didn't even stop for the coffee i usually guzzle when i wake up.

so, there i was, blabbering away to the sis, NOT noticing that i hadn't yielded to a police officer AND that i was driving in the shoulder for quite a while.

cops come to the window, which is frozen shut initially. then, i was so panicked, i couldn't find my license and registration. that found, the officer asked me if were on something, was i taking something. terrified, because my klonopin prescription is from India and NOT my psychiatrist, i just mumbled something about lexapro, my anti-depressant.

THEN, he made me get out of the car for those balance tests. he asked if i'd been drinking, and i hadn't, so i practically begged him to breathalize me, and i just kept saying i was bleary from the nap. he made me do some balance exercise where you stand on one foot and balance, counting one-one thousandish, etc. all the way up to 30. i could do three.

"lady", he said, "you have to be honest with me. if you've taken something i can help you, but if you don't tell me, i'm going to have to book you for DUI and revoke your license."

so, i confessed that i'd taken klonopin for anxiety, and it had made me really sleepy. i told him i'd lied because i was scared.

after that he was a sweetheart. he had his buddy drive my car to my house, and he drove me thirty minutes to my boyfriend.

i did get an angel, because trust me, new jersey cops are NOT known for their kindness when dealing with potential DUIs.

one more sign that i'm ready for detox. i need to clean my house out of everything. last time, i left some klonopin and it took another month to get off that. that hurt!

drugs, alcohol, eating disorders -- they all lead to really uncomfortable, scarey and embarrassing situations. if i'm in the bathroom for an extra minute, i'm sure everyone thinks i'm up-chucking. when i was binging, i would cross new york city streets without looking to get to the nearest store. i really didn't care. alcohol -- who cares whom i made out with in bars, and sometimes, whom i took home. and i won't even start the crack stories.

i'm ready to have some freedom and joy. and even to know the pain that i'm no longer anesthetizing.

by the way, i tried that balancing thing this afternoon -- cold sober, drug-free. i could just count to 4. but that doesn't matter. what matters is i could have spent the night in jail, booked, and with no license.

will i get fat before, during and after rehab?

yes, i may be saving my life by going to rehab (we'll get to last night's near DUI in the next post), but more importantly (hm) for us ED gals, WILL I GET FAT?

first, there's the pre-rehab pleasures. wine, wine, wine. and with wine comes that glorious loss of reality which leads straight to the refrigerator. (BUT NO MORE DRIVING UNDER ANY INFLUENCE.)

i'm letting things go until tuesday. and letting the boyfriend drive.

then, in rehab, there is nothing to do but eat. and they have food available like 25 hours a day. breakfast, snack, 27 lunch choices, mid-afternoon snack, major dinner (with more desserts than there were lunch choices) and they deliver snacks to your rooms before bed. also note, that there are bagels and pastries in the kitchen at all times, so you can grab a few before you head off to breakfast. AND you're kept so dopey while you're detoxing. when i'm tired and dopey ALL i want is food. food. and more food.

true, a lot of patients NEED to put on weight. the coke, crack and heroin gang haven't had interest in food for a looooong time. (just a side mention, the heroin addicts were all teenagers. is there anything sadder? really, really smart kids. i can't imagine having gotten such an addiction so young. the rest of life is all about fighting to stay clean.)

last time i was there, it was summer, and i walked a lot. i was also a lot more into being thin, so i ate salad bars and drank diet sprite. (you can only have coffee or any caffeine until 9am. cranky melissa!)

now it will be cold, and i've run out of patience for dieting. but i guess not drinking a bottle of wine a day should widdle some of the calories.

when i was there in june i didn't miss the alcohol but i was taking SEVERAL ambien a night and getting off of that was awful. i dreamt about it every night. how many people have romantic dreams about ambien -- night after night?

returning home worries me too. there are some issues to face. if i'm not doing well with the boyfriend and wine is not an option, Mr. Fridge pulls a lot of ...."weight". also, the chips in the closet above the stove.

i'm going to have to DEAL with the problems, aren't i? yick.

i still can't quite believe i'm going. but i am. i'll miss blogging. it's so therapeutic and grounding. i'll miss you all!

close call

my sister-in-law just delivered my mail, which she pointedly mentioned was "from my boyfriend in india". now, i get to tell her i'm going to rehab.

very lucky that i have a plan. well, here goes $244 down the toilet!!!!

EMANCIPATION PROCLAMATION

the secrets just keep on flowing. let's tackle body image and food.

i've been taking the weight loss drug, Alli, for the last three days. for any of you who thinks this is a good idea -- IT'S NOT. i haven't lost an ounce, but i have a constant stomach ache and feel queasy. when i go home, i'm throwing out the rest. how much have i spent on drugs that end up in the toilet?

and i've proclaimed that i'm okay with my weight, but that's not a 24/7 experience. i get scared. much like Oprah, i weighed 200 pounds for a long time. and i'm exactly her height.

i was doing okay. i told myself i could eat what i wanted (mind you, nothing wild) and i stopped thinking about food so much. i got a lot accomplished at work. i did all my christmas shopping (i am quite pleased with myself here. this is not usually a shining strength.) i had dinner with my family (you remember the brother who loves to eat. well, he loves to cook too. with butter, heavy cream, more butter, sour cream, mashed potatoes, pot roast. not a veggie in sight. i did bring a salad, but i enjoyed a couple of meals with them.)

i was pretty happy chugging along. also planning the scarey trip to rehab (telling the boyfriend), et. al

then a funny thing happened on the way to the scale. i started to gain weight. after fluctuating from 132-134 (and that's after weighing 126 for months), the scale said 135.

that distracted me from most other things and my old rules came rushing back. i canceled a 6;30 dinner with an acquaintance at a restaurant where they don't serve alcohol. let's take each point separately:

1. the dinner was really early for me. if i eat at 6:30, i'm antsy the rest of the night. i spent days trying to figure out what to eat that was light enough to let me eat again later.

2. this particular acquaintance is obsessed with her weight and talks about it a lot. when i worked at a weight loss center, i helped her lose a lot of weight. now, she's all about maintaining 128 and watching every morsel. when i worked at the center, i weighed 122. i pictured her peering at my round cheeks. i didn't want to talk about weight all night. in this way, canceling felt like self-care

3. ah, the alcohol. now that i'm drinking, i don't like to go anywhere where they don't have wine. i don't know what to do with myself and consider heading to a bar after. but that doesn't really work, because i like to drink on an empty stomach, so i can get nice and tipsy.

i admit to strong urges to pull out of my rehab extravaganza, but i've told too many people to back out. boyfriend, brother and sister-in-law, therapist, psychiatrist, cousin, nyc friends. i'm going. (the only one missing is my sister. she's the toughest customer.) and of course, i'm telling you!

i am practicing some self-care. i'm going to ask my psychiatrist, who's affiliated with the hospital, to see if i can be less medicated while there. they like to keep you like a zombie as you withdraw, but i wasn't able to do much of anything. this time, i want to write a lot and read and contemplate.

one of the nicest parts of the experience last time -- i'm not a smoker, but i'd sit on the patio bonding with everyone else and bumming Marlboro Reds. this time i'm bringing cigs. and sharing.

Not Dieting

Monday, December 8, 2008

not dieting. well, i don't know what to write. it's such an alien concept -- i don't remember ever not dieting in some form in my 44 years.

should i leave this page blank?no, i'm committed to -- not dieting, whatever that is. i really don't know. it's odd. some people must know how NOT to diet, but how?

my weight hasn't budged since i got back from california. and i really don't have any interest in doing anything about it. my ED tells me that's laziness, and i'd better watch my ass (literally) or i'll be in the Guiness Book for fattest woman on earth. or perhaps the planet. by new years.

but i'm not in the mood. i don't really care. (how weird is that?) i look fine.my ED howls, pointing out that my boobs are bursting out of their 36D constraints and bra straps dig into my shoulders. my pants are tighter, and i can't afford new clothes. my face is fuller, and it's losing definition. and wait until my next period -- NOTHING will fit, and i'll weigh more than i have in years.so?i mean it -- so.i didn't get on the scale today and wasn't interested. (of course, that's today. who knows how tempted i'll be tomorrow.)

i'm going to buy sexy underwear after work to honor my slightly fluffy body. and the next time i buy clothes, i'm going to buy stuff that shows off this figure. usually, when i'm not skinny, i buy clown pants, so no one can see where i end and the extra fabric starts.i've never had confidence in this here body, and that's going to change. i've only tortured it with binging, starving, laxatives, enemas, puking, compulsive eating, et. al. enough.victoria secrets watch out. let's find me a bigger bra for these burgeoning breasts. i don't think the boyfriend will complain.and neither will I.

Posted by MelissaS at 10:53 AM 6 comments Links to this post