Fear Laced Binge

Yesterday’s Meals:

Porringer 1- 2 eggs, 2 rashers, 2 cup coffee with 4 tsp double cream
Binge- pot of tea, 3 plain rolls with butter and cheese, 1 full size bag of crisps
Porringer 2- glass of wine, beef and carrots, sauce

Evening coffee- 2 cup coffee with 4 tsp double cream, 2 mint humbugs (hard candy)

The binge yesterday was unexpected, meaning that I did not struggle with the thoughts beforehand, and I did not want to…but did.  Underlying emotion was probably resentment as husband is stepping up his campaign to get me to work because he highly resents having to work himself.  I refuse to tell him that I already bought a calendar to keep track of all the jobs I apply for so that he can see I am productive.  Because he does not know my intention of starting to look in the new year, he feels it necessary to talk around the subject by mentioning how much nicer it would be to have more income, or how we can’t afford something or like this morning, go on about how he cannot wait for retirement because he hates working.  I let him talk it out and then like a dutiful wife, I burst his bubble.

He droned on about how far away retirements is, how he’ll have to suffer another 11 years.  Out comes my pin, and I remind him just how short 11 years is and exactly how close to 70 he will be.  His face fell and shock overcame him as I continued to point out how these are the golden years, the years we can still function, have our health and in 11 years we may very well be wishing we were still in our 50’s and working.  His bubble busted, he admitted I was right.  Off to work he went a bit humbled.  But these feelings he has about work, I too share.  It is triggering me too.  The problem lies in that we both had circumstances in the last couple of years that allowed us to not work  for a short period while the other did, when both of us never had that concept or luxury before.  We both started work in our teens and NEVER had a period of unemployment.  So now that we have a taste of it, we certainly cling to the idea of retirement like it is some kind of golden ring almost within reach.

My own resentment about returning to work is causing me to have insecurities and puts me into a vulnerable place with bingeing.  I went for the usual food shopping and without so much as giving it a thought, picked up three rolls.  I did notice I had not desire for anything else, although ED was urging that I might as well make it a proper binge, I wasn’t really interested.  When I got home, I realized I had forgotten the wine, so went back and saw the crisps on sale and grabbed a bag of those.  Once again I thought, geez, I am here, I might as well get something sweet and it sounded awful and I didn’t.  I almost put the crisps back on the shelf.  This isn’t want I wanted at all.  I did not want to binge, but I did not want to sit with the feelings getting all stormy within me either.

But here I go again, drenching my gut with wheat and the expected result happened and I sit at the table this morning with my pin ready to burst husband’s bubbles but it is my own backside I really want to stick the pin in.  I am wallowing an whining in my own self pity and wasting time because the very thing he wants to lunge for is scaring the hell out of me.  I sat in the doctors office on Christmas Eve and was asked if I still had a womb.  This question was asked because of my age, no other reason.  It was one of those defining moments that make one so acutely aware that they can no longer get away with being thought of as an adult, now it has all crossed the line over into the old people’s court (people without usual body parts).  No so long ago, no doctor would have asked me that question.  But at my age, it is common to be wombless I suppose.  So between the fast foreword my husband wants and the fast back into the past I want to go, stuffing 3 rolls into my mouth to prevent screaming seemed the right thing to do. It wasn’t, of course.

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The crisps I ate.

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Three of these I ate (about the size of a hamburger roll).

And I also bought 5 pate’s as they were on sale:

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The ones I bought were the brussels cranberry and port, which is a lovely deep colour, unlike the photo above (which I grabbed off the net to show the brand and size).  My plan was to have one for lunch each day.  Remembering that I love low carb foods pushed me into considering how far away from what I want to do I have gotten.  Sometimes I feel like seaweed caught in the ocean tides, washing up on the shore and being pulled back into the sea, over and over again, endlessly hooked in the scheme of how life works whether I want it to or not.  Is it better to fight hard to get back to the deep sea or go with the flow and see what the beach has to offer?

Oh, and while I am calling this eating episode a binge, is it really?  It is not how I imagine normal eating to be, it is not extreme by past binge standards.  I usually gauge a binge as more of a behaviour than the actual amount eaten, but yesterday, I didn’t want it.  There wasn’t an urge…so was it a binge or a frustration spelled out in overeating?

I am pretty sure I can stop it today.  I want to do the major cleaning before the New Year tradition, so I will be busy enough to not think of eating, there is nothing in the cupboards that can call my name and husband will be off the next 5 days.  Hopefully he’ll stop the retirement/money talk so I don’t have to ride into the New Year on the guilty charges of not working.

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Two Binges, One Good Day Before the World Ends

Behind again….

Wednesday:

Porringer 1 – 2 eggs, 2 rashers, 2 cups coffee with 4 teaspoons of double cream
Binge  -3 rolls with cheddar cheese and butter, 4 eccles cakes, 1 battered fish fillet, single serving chips, pot of tea
Porringer 2- pork steak, brussel sprouts, 1 glass wine
Evening coffee – 2 cups coffees with 4 teaspoons of cream

As expected, I felt sick all day. Way too much binge food. I had wanted those stupid eccles cakes and I regretted them.  I thought they were solid bready kind of teacake, but they had a solid filling of raisins that was ungodly sweet.  Nope.  Didn’t stop me from eating all of them though…I have to say ED was prevailing today.

Thursday:

Porringer 1 – 2 eggs, 2 rashers, 2 cups coffee with 4 teaspoons of double cream
Binge – large bag of popcorn, whole sponge cake with cream filling, pot of tea
Porringer 2 – pasta, meatballs, tomato sauce, 1 glass wine
Evening coffee – 2 cups coffees with 4 teaspoons of cream

While not as dense in sugar and grains as yesterday’s binge, it was still a worthless thing to do, to consume that much.  The triggers have been strong, as I have been delving deep into my daughter’s childhood photo’s and seeing them have brought many tears.  I also posted some photo’s of her trying on wedding dresses, ten years ago and that made me feel so emotional too.  Her wedding anniversary is on New Years Eve.  I have been thinking of her so much lately.  I miss her.

I didn’t grab food to drown it all out, I think this time the food was more of a crutch, a way to distract myself into a comforting state of mind.  I didn’t want to stop thinking about it, I just wanted to not feel so intensely wound up.  I would have much rather had a drink.

I didn’t want to feel as sick as I ended up feeling yesterday, so I chose lighter binge foods.  The cake was a very small one (compared to American cakes, I think perhaps 6 inches across) with nothing but sponge cake and a thin layer of cream in the middle.  The popcorn surprised me, as it was called movie theatre kind, sweet and salty but it was nothing like American sweet and salty, it was so bland I had to add extra salt and the sweetness barely perceptible.  It proves to me how much sugar and salt Americans use compared to the UK.  I prefer the UK’s small portions and lighter use of sugar.  The candy is even better tasting and not so intensely sweet.

Still, with all that, I am getting back into the bingeing mode and need to take a deep breath and move back into the correct balance.  Even with Christmas, that can be achieved.

Today:

Porringer 1 – 2 eggs, 2 rashers, 2 cups coffee with 4 teaspoons of double cream
Porringer 2 – cheddar cheese with butter, pot of tea
Porringer 3 – plain yogurt, full fat, pot of tea
Porringer 4 – 1 glass wine, chicken breast, broccoli and butter
Evening coffee – 2 cups coffees with 4 teaspoons of cream

Today the world is suppose to end, but I hope I get my doctor’s appoint done first.

I caught myself in the clutches of the the big DIET thinking again, partly because that always comes after a binge, it is ALWAYS part of the cycle.  But also because of the new year approaching and all that nonsense about resolutions.  I started looking at the nutritional software I have on my computer and wondered what it would be like to have 365 perfect eating days monitored and a loss of 6 stone recorded.  While it sounds so appealing in an abstract way, what I am doing is completely ignoring the reality that there is no room in my happy equation for the reality of the obsession of it all.  All the hours poured over the numbers, the stress of the scale not moving down fast enough, the weighing of every morsel to be sure the calorie count is right, all THAT garbage that holds the mind in a dark restricted prison and takes away from the enjoyment of life.  And the worst of it is the ED voice that grows stronger and more dangerous because he’s got a battle to win, one that I am sure to lose because I have set myself up to fight that which I cannot win without it taking every breathing moment of guarded resistance out of me.  Oh, yeah, I really want to go through THAT for the millionth time!

So if the world ends today, I be damned to be taken out standing there weighing broccoli on a food scale.  I’d rather be smiling and thinking of those I love so dearly.  Like my beautiful daughter…..

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Shame and Guilt

Friday’s meals:
Porringer 1- 1 eggs, 2 rashers
Porringer 2- few slices of German salami
1 bottle of port + 1 tray of caramel squares (all vomited)

Saturday’s Meals:
Porringer 1- 2 eggs, 1 rasher, pot of tea
Porringer 2- soup: chicken, broth, carrot, turnip
Porringer 3- soup: chicken, broth, carrot, turnip
Porringer 4- 3 cumberland sausages, curry sauce
2 cups coffee with double cream, 2 or 3 more pots of tea
4 quarter cuts oatcakes with butter and cheddar cheese

I am writing this on Sunday, so I have had time to reflect and sort it.  Friday fell to pieces in a way that I am quite ashamed to admit to.  I am going to go ahead and be honest and reveal the way the mind and body falls apart topped off with the consequences of emotional immaturity and how they all collide.  Don’t expect a resolution, I have none.

Friday morning started out light hearted and well.  I had my Christmas boxes ready, I had baked three more loaves of rye bread for husband’s Christmas party and off the to the post off I went.  I felt good, the air was brilliantly cold and crisp, I still had the beloved Christmas tunes playing in my head from wrapping and packing.  Then the tons of bricks began to rain all over me.

The package to my daughter and grandchildren was over 2kg by 500g and would cost £65 to mail.  The package to my parents, was 100g over 2kg and would cost nearly the same, the birthday present of 3 paperback books to my grandson was £9.  I was devastated.  That was well over £100 (160 dollars) to mail goddamn biscuits and books.  It was insane.  I was told that if I could get the packages under 2kg the price would drop significantly.  So I went back home, angry as hell and carefully used a razor blade to open the ends and take some packets out.  Back to the post office and it was now down to a total £70.  On our single income, we cannot afford it, not for biscuits.  I came home with my packages and fell into a slump of tears and anger.  Because of our move, my daughter’s move and all the chaos, I have not been able to send any presents this year and was so looking forward to at least giving a token treat for Christmas.  I had no idea how expensive it was going to be or I wouldn’t have bought the gifts to begin with.  In the US, size is more important than weight.  Here, weight is costly.

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I cried the entire time I put the gift packages in the cupboard, thinking at least it was edible and not toys, but neither of us need this kind of food around.  I was so upset that I went and grabbed the bottle of port I had been saving since October and poured a glass with the intention of calming down and getting a bit of a grip.  What I failed to pay attention to was that I had not eaten lunch and had nothing in my stomach.  I poured another one, sobbed some more and suddenly the whole bottle was empty and I realized it was hitting me hard and fast. 

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I grabbed one of the treats from the cupboard and ate that to hopefully absorb some of the alcohol and I promptly became violently sick.  I mean violently.  The bathroom appeared as though a murder was committed with all that red port splattered everywhere.  I was sicker than I recall ever being while drinking.  I cleaned up what I could and stumbled into bed, knowing I was going to have to explain it all to husband and just desperately wanting it all to stop. My head was spinning, my gits were churning and I was feeling guilty that dinner was not getting made for my husband.

When he came home he saw the splattered bathroom rug, saw me in bed and asked what was wrong.  I told him he would have to find dinner for himself and I would explain later.  I was so sick I could not lift my head from the pillow.  He went and got fish and chips and came to bed by 8pm.  I slept and had to get up to vomit a few times more during the night.  Husband came to talk to me and see if there was anything he could do to help me by 8am.  We talked about the postage thing and I admitted my drinking the whole bottle and getting sick and he was very gentle and understanding which helped me with my deep guilt.  Poor guy didn’t get his usual hot breakfast either.  This is the first time in 9 years of marriage that I wasn’t up to fixing him a meal.

I felt well enough (hangover = throbbing headache and queasiness) to take a shower and make some chicken soup Saturday morning.  I knew I was going to need it.  I first drank a pot of tea, got down a couple of eggs and 1 rasher, then a few hours later, had a bowl of chicken soup.  By afternoon, I felt so much better.  Husband left for his Christmas party and I made sausages for my dinner.  I was still really concerned about my body’s reaction and more concerned that it took a relatively benign incident to set the whole stupid incident in motion.  The sickness, the hangover and now the side pain from vomiting was all seemingly over the top and out of proportion.  When younger, I have eaten and drank far more and not gotten that sick.  Or perhaps I am so far away from those days, I have forgotten.

Soon it was mid Saturday afternoon, I was settled, feeling better, knitting and watching films while husband was at his party. 

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My father called.  My father never calls me directly unless it is to reprimand me (far in the past) or to tell me bad news.  My grandmother (his mother) died on Friday night.  So I talked to my parents for awhile, feeling utterly numb and distant.  All of my grandparents are now gone, my parents are now the oldest family members and I just don’t know what to think or feel.  I was emotionally and physically spent from the Christmas present episode which now makes me feel shame that I allowed it to become so huge that I am strangely not crying over my grandmother.  If I were to get drunk over anything, it should have been my grandmother’s passing, not biscuits.  Husband came home about 8pm from his party in such a good mood, slightly tipsy and happy, that I did not tell him about Grams until this morning.  No sense popping his bubble, he so rarely has a chance to be out and about socially.

So…what the hell happened?  I could not send my gifts out to my family, a family member dies and I am sitting here on the other side of the world and cannot put together the words that need to be expressed because I do not know what they are.  As close as I can come to understanding it, is to openly admit the shame in reacting so childishly to what I have to accept is the reality of separations and the passage of time.  I cannot afford to send gifts, I cannot afford to return for a funeral and I am so fully aware that I have no clue as to when I will see my daughter or grandchildren again.  This all ties in with the guilt of my not being employed, with my husband having to work to support us when he wants to be retired, and every thing that can be tainted with my selfishness and self importance.

I am also besieged with huge reality checks about my own aging.  I can easily drink a bottle of wine or port without getting drunk (or perhaps not anymore!).  I don’t quite know what happened on Friday.  Husband thinks it was the emotional whiplash that probably had me drinking too fast and too much too soon.  Having been in ketosis many times before, I do know that drinking is felt far more than when not in ketosis.  I know that a sudden high dose of sugar can make me sick, so I may have had an insulin surge that was ignited by the emotions and alcohol.  The hormonal loops of a middle-aged woman wrecking havoc.  I sit here on Sunday morning realizing that all of this was pointless, stupid and reminding me of the necessity of continuing my journey with permanent change to my hedonistic consumption and how I deal with the lumps and bumps in life.  Aren’t I getting too old to be acting like this?

Birthday Binge

It took awhile to be ready to write this morning.  Yesterday was a good day, but did not go as I planned and that is something I need to address and understand.  I am full of regrets this morning.  Sigh.  This is a long post.

 

The day started out good.  I had a plan in place and it was a reasonable one.  Normal breakfast, normal lunch, port during the day while watching films, fish and chips and a bottle of Guinness for dinner and some sort of dessert with after dinner coffee. 

Note: ED stands for Eating Disorder, I use it in terms of the voice of addiction.

 

The nice beginnings soon unravelled.  I can’t say why I take that first step, nor can I say why that first initial choice makes everything else fall apart.  That first mistake yesterday was opening the bottle of port too soon. 

 

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My eye was on the port.  A whole bottle to myself, as husband doesn’t like it.  It was a heady idea, I NEVER drink in the morning, but it was a very dark morning, I was in the mood to take a long hot bubble bath with candlelight and Sinatra playing in the background and unfortunately it was only 8am.  I thought the first ED thought, hell, it’s my birthday, I can do as I want!  So I opened the bottle, poured some into my lovely pewter chalice and sank deep into soapy hot water.  It was divine.  I got all Zen-like, noting the sensation of the hot water, the play of candlelight on the pewter, sighed over the music.  The port was delicious and I sipped the tiniest of sips to really enjoy the deep rich flavour.  All of this was perfect.

 

After the bath, I sat and looked at stuff online, sipping another cupful.  I am now starting to feel it and see that it is 10am and I can go to the shops.  Off I go, feeling slightly woozy and not liking that (I hate feeling more than relaxed with drinking).  I buy the planned items at one shop, looking over their dessert options and nothing grabbed me.  I went to the two bakeries and nothing appealed to me either.  I noticed that probably nothing was appealing because suddenly I felt sort of sick, with only port in my stomach and breakfast having been an early 5am meal.  I needed food in my stomach and this is the danger point, to be shopping for food and needing food at the same time.  I tried to reassure myself that all I needed to do was buy the dessert and go home and eat the sausages I defrosted.  I decided to go to the next shop and just get something frozen so that I would not be tempted to eat it before dinner.  This is what I brought home.

 

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They unfortunately had a sale.  2 for £3 of boxed desserts.  Sigh.  I already had in hand the frozen dessert that I have been wanting to try, vanilla slices, a sort of napoleon pastry I adored as a child.  Of course the childhood pastry was a fine bakery pastry and I could not hope to get the same in a cheap box of frozen stuff.  However, ED reminded me that the sale would allow husband to have a choice for dessert and they were truly small (I put my hand in the photo for a reference).  I wanted to believe this, it made sense enough, although I could have disputed the logic as self serving and really had nothing to do with how many desserts my husband needed to choose from.  Yet, I also bought a mini chocolate cake and a mini toffee cheesecake and felt I was doing the best thing with the sale and all.  Then suddenly, without thinking it over, I grabbed the two for £1 prawn crisps before heading to the cashier.  I had a sudden whim of imagining a little party for myself.  Drinking and crisps were the old favourite thing to do and now seemed a wonderful idea.  Those crisps were my undoing and so was the ED logic.

 

I came home and made the sausages.  They were so good and the sick feeling vanished instantly.  Mistake number two was opening those bags of prawn crisps to have with the port.  Had I stuck to lunch as planned, I would have been fine.  Thus, more port and crisps somehow melted all resolve and the predictable frenzy began.  The napoleons were in finger bars, unlike the cakes where I would have to cut into them. This is where the ED sickness really takes hold, there was that inevitable glee of the secrecy involved.  I could take all the bars out, put them on a plate, throw away the box that says 12 bars on it and who would know any were missing?  My angelic intention was to eat just one or two.  I ate all 12.  I ATE ALL TWELVE.  Damn it.  As an aside, I did eat my sausages in the porringer, but the crisp and bars were not.  I should have forced myself to use the bowl and note what happened with my thinking.  That would have been far more interesting.

 

The sugar and alcohol soon combusted inside me, the sheer mass of it was making me feel ill and about to burst.  I suffered the rest of the afternoon, so uncomfortable from the fullness.  The pleasant relaxing sensations of the port were transitioning into plain tiredness.  I wanted to take a nap, but it was too late in the day.  Husband would soon be home with the fish and chips and oh, how I knew I ruined my chances of really enjoying that as I so wanted.  I felt like I could not eat another bite but the shameful secrecy of bingeing prevented me from letting on that I could hardly eat the fun dinner husband went out of his way to bring home.  I did eat it, and even forced the desserts as though I had not had any yet.  I silently felt the pain and the regrets of such foolishness.

 

As with any addiction, there is the pleasure point and the tipping point.  Most of the pleasure is in the anticipation and those first few bites (sips, hits, whatever).  The gluttony of wanting more and getting away with it is the high.  The tipping point is the decent into misery and regret.  The two go together and that damn tipping point moves up another notch, make the pleasure point so much closer to the tip over.  After watching what people binge on YouTube, I am almost angry that I cannot even come close to the amounts in those binges, yet the nearly once a week binge has made me re-gain 37 pounds!

 

Here is dinner.  Since I knew we would be sharing the meal, I made a salad with homemade bleu cheese dressing to round it out.  We each had a fish fillet and the chips you see in my porringer is all that I had.  I did not finish my salad, the beer in the small glass is all I had of that.  We didn’t open the second bottle of beer, but saved it for another time.

 

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The toffee cheese cake and chocolate cake were even smaller out of the boxes!  Of these I had this much:

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NO virtue here.  I was still sick from the 12 bars and prawn crisps!

 

Of the desserts, we ended up liking the chocolate cake which had mousse as the filler and frosting, it was light in texture and not overly sweet.  We both agreed that this would be a consideration in a future need for dessert.  As for the cheesecake, it was not at all like the baked cheesecakes our family was good at making, it was simply a sweet gooey dessert.  The 12 vanilla bars?  The pastry part was like card-board and they were so plain they tasted nothing like real napoleons.  Looking back, had I just bought the chocolate cake and not the prawn crisps, bars and cheesecake, everything would have been fine.  Without the addiction cue of the crisps, I would have not drunk more port.  I managed to polish off 3/4 of the bottle!  1/3 would have been more reasonable.

 

I will stop here, but I intend to decide on how to handle Christmas long before it arrives.  Today, I am back on my three porringers of food.  I missed showing a fish salad I made the other day that I really liked:

 

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This had white fish, mayonnaise, shredded raw carrot, curry and I dosed the top with crab pate.  Yum.  I love the crispness of the raw carrot, I usually put it in a mayonnaise base salad for the texture contrast.  The crab added a zing.  I love this stuff, but try to use it sparingly as it does have sugar listed.

Popped.

Lets see if I can write this without a lot of negativity.  The pattern after a binge is to be full of remorse and confessions and promises of redemption.  I just don’t want to fall into that anymore.  If ever I am going to learn how to change, I must face the challenges with kind understanding, not reproach.  I built several good days together eating-wise, but it popped.  I think of it as like those childhood toys:

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Pop Beads

 

Each day I add another bead until I pop one off and then I have to start all over again to build them up.  Maybe I could find a way to add the days together in a visual form?

 

I am still battling the leftovers of a cold, hesitatingly suspecting it may be close to becoming pneumonia.  I am hesitant, because the symptoms are intertwined with two binges.  Consumptions of wheat and sugar make me feel tired, the excess food makes me feel ill and it could be the fullness of my stomach is pressing on my lungs or something equally gruesome.  lol.  Both Monday and Tuesday I skipped lunch and binged instead:

 

Monday: 3 trays of mini sponge cake rolls (about 10-12 in a tray and the size of my thumb), 3 plain buns with butter and cheese, 4-5 teacakes (marshmallow on a biscuit and covered in chocolate).  They were terrible and it took eating several before I was sure of it and I threw the remaining dozen out. (I came very close to skipping this binge, there was a strong pull to not even start it, but I overrode my own protests). 

Tuesday: 1 single packet of crisps, 2 plain buns with butter and cheese, 1 plain bun with chicken paste and curry sauce, 1 package of jam dodgers. (Once the crap is in the body, a new craving sets in and takes on a life of it’s own, I simply did this one without giving it much thought).

 

On both days I ate my usual low carb breakfast and dinner in my porringer.  On both days, my stomach felt painfully full and from the point of finishing eating until bedtime, I was miserable, exhausted, could hardly breathe and depressed in mood.  I did not take my blood sugar readings, I did not want to know.  Usually I spike to nearly 200 on these occasions and hold a high reading of about 180 for the rest of the day…I do not drop to normal in 3 hours as I should.  My digestion is notoriously slow.  I felt like a blimp that was made of stone.  Huge and heavy.

 

Now, this is not meant as a disclaimer, but my bingeing is getting smaller over the years and I am frankly shocked at how these amounts (while still most definitely a binge in every sense of the word) cannot be compared to my past debaucheries.  I could barely get these amounts down and this would have only been the tip of the iceberg only 5 years ago.   I think as this recognition continues, these binges may eventfully fizzle out on their own.  I can’t stand the stomach pain and distress.  It was just Sunday that I clung so joyously to feeling well and empty inside without hunger.  This is where my cold-illness may be taking part.  I really felt that exhaustion-shallow breathing-not-enough-air thing going on.  Husband was getting worried last night, but I didn’t want to admit that I had binged and that it may just be about being too full.  I admit in a round about way of my eating urges and we discuss at length how difficult it all is (for him too) but to say out loud that I binged today is much too shameful to me. 

 

Today, the process begins on getting back to what feels good.  My pattern here is to take a few days to cover my vulnerable binge period (mid-morning) with a pot of tea and cheddar with a thick layer of butter and eat them like buns with butter and cheese.   After while, I will be able to drop this as I did the last time.  I try not to berate, not to regret and go through what might be a trigger.  Instead, I try and keep my head clear of negative thoughts, keep myself busy with knitting and let the day pass as a good one and build onto it with another good day.

2012-10-31 009 It really helps.  I will have to shop today for groceries, so hopefully this will keep me satisfied and not cave in to another bout of bingeing. 

Not Making it Work Yet

2012-10-24 004 Liver pate, mustard and mayonnaise.

This was a midmorning tea nibble.  I don’t want to have midmorning tea nibbles.   Of course this means I cannot claim a 3 bowl day yesterday.  I also ate outside my bowl.  Not any of this is going in the direction I intend, and I have been writing about it in my personal diary but there is nothing enlightening about it to share here.  Last evening I could not finish my dinner and I am guessing my residual cold is still mucking about my eating decisions.  I am not hungry most of the time, but I am still seeking comfort in eating.  Sometimes it almost works, sometimes it does not.

Again today, I will attempt to stick to the three bowls and find other things to do to fill in the long hours that pass too quickly.

Yesterday:

Breakfast- 2 eggs, 2 rashers, 2 coffee with whole milk (porringer)

Midmorning tea- liver pate, mustard, mayonnaise, pot of tea (porringer)

Midmorning binge- 6 small fish cakes, stuffing side, Horlicks drink (plate)

Dinner- 4-5 bites coq a vin (could not eat much) glass of wine. (porringer)

No after dinner coffee, had a glass of water

Pewter Tea Cup

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My latest purchase of pure delight, an antique pewter cup and saucer.  It has a fabulous spot for an engraving.  I will have to see if there is any local place that does engraving.  I want my porringer engraved too.

Yesterday, I tried to binge but it was almost as though I did not have it in me.  I bought a package of biscuits and one of caramel bars and 3 buns.  I had the buns with butter and cheese and a nice hot pot of tea.  The caramel bars which have been my favourite now taste off somehow, like they lack the lustre they once had.  The same with the biscuits, the last time I had them I marvelled over how lovely they were, now they simply tasted sweet and cloying.  I am so glad at this point in my binge career that the UK packages are tiny compared to American super sized everything.  Still, I could not finish the biscuits, I gave up and felt horribly stuffed the rest of the day, making dinner once again a painful ordeal and all I end up longing for is to go to bed to stretch out.  What I am noting, is the ability to eat a lot at one time is getting less.  While that’s ultimately the best thing to happen, I am secretly fearing a digestive malady that may be taking root.  Not keen on that.

Of right now, I am in the ugh stage, where overeating sounds nauseating to me.  However, to break that pattern, it’s best I don;t play out the next act, which is claiming I will never do THAT again with fake resolute tones.  Noble, but it’s the same old empty promises I never keep anyways. 

Patterns do change though.  It’s all circumstantial.  A thousand years ago (before marriage) I would load up goodies for the weekend as a purely indulgent debauchery all for me.  No one could intrude on that little world.  Now, it is Mondays.  I know  I am  trying to create my own little world again, but it lacks conviction these days.  Bingeing is a suppression technique, a smarmy concoction of self punishment and creative retaliation mixed with a proper dose of rebellion.  I am growing bored with it.  I have spent 30 years eating because I felt resentment, now I feel resentment over eating.

Enough of that prattle, what I really want to delve into is the idea that today, I need to be able to get from early breakfast (5am) to lunch time (maybe 11am) without eating.  I want to do this, even though I know I will find myself becoming a drama queen, nearly passing out from hunger and the want of a biscuit with my tea.  I’ve developed the dreadful habit of watching East Enders, Coronation Street and Emmerdale with a pot of tea and nibbles.  I broke the habit of eating popcorn in theatre’s, I can break this tea time debauchery too!

Yesterday I ate 2 porringers and one binge.

B- 2 eggs, 2 rashers, 2 cups of coffee with double cream

Binge- 1 package caramel squares, 1/2 package of jam biscuits, 3 buns with butter and cheese, 3 pots of tea

D- 2 cumberlands, sweetheart cabbage, roasted carrot, butter, 1 glass of wine.

after dinner coffee – 2 cups with double cream