Sunday, Feb. 22, 2009 Stirred up

I’m in a little bit better place today, more or less.

I am remembering the two years I went to see the psychiatrist back in 1981-83, before Mike. I would go to the doctor’s office every week and he would ask me questions or suggest ideas that would get my dander up. I would tussle and wrestle with myself. I’d leave his office angry and stew. When I returned the following week, I would tell him how angry he made me and how frustrated I was. He would smile and tell me that it wasn’t his job to make me feel good, it was his job to help me get well by learning to understand myself. To understand myself I had to think deeply about my behaviors and why I was in such a mess. It helped tremendously, when all was said and done.

I think I’m going through that again with this damn lap band.

In the 80’s when I was so physically sick with the multiple ulcers and other digestive malfunctions, the thought was that I had anorexia. I actually had the misdiagnosed gall bladder disease. Still, even gall bladder disease is food related and probably brought on by one of the many diets I was continually on. But, the psychiatric work did help me begin to make positive choices for myself.

Now here I am 20+ years later, doing it all over again at another level. It’s difficult taking the years of thought patterns and turning them around. I did it then, I can do it again. But it’s tough.
Going to the weekly group has put my brain in overdrive and I am beyond restless, angry and full of fear.

This week was particularly rough because I thought I lost my health insurance, accidentally. I thought I had done something wrong and I was going to have to try to sell my condo to pay for everything that happened to me last year. Fortunately the error was at the company’s end. Instead of having two surgeries, unpaid, adding up to nearly $40,000, I merely needed to send $39 to adjust the paperwork error. Thank God from Whom all Blessings Flow! Truly.

This event has put respect for money back into my brain. To be honest, I’ve been pretty awful with money since Mike died. I took care of all the finances for our family with no trouble. Mike trusted me completel. Why I think I can’t handle money is ridiculous. I’m perfectly capable, just in denial of reality. I am officially slapped back into it now and need to find a way to give myself a really good cushion. Wish I could invent a doodad that everyone needs! The good news is I have a set of 3 piggy banks left from the Christmas fiasco and I’ve started to use them and get a plan of action in place. Everyday I will put money in them for tithing, saving and investing. It will feel good to be back on track. Maybe Ill get inspired to create a widget of some sort too.

As for the weight. Here’s the deal. If I am an emotional eater (duh)…it works. This was such a stressful week and the hunger I felt was all consuming. My body was screaming for dark chocolate and carbs badly. It is my heroin. Of course I have to live with the result of eating it. The momentary soothing changes into guilt and shame pretty quickly. It’s crazy.

I did get a new fill in the band this week. I think the band is filled to a point now where I really don’t feel like I can eat as much. That’s a help. But, that isn’t the end all. I wish it was. The fact that it is a tool and not the panacea is annoying. I still have to change in my head and eat food in quantity and quality that will help me loose this damn weight. AAAARRRRRRGGGGG!

Then there is the love department. Fred is great, for the most part. We have wonderful times together and spend just about every week-end together hanging out. The only problem is that he really isn’t a talker and whenever I want to talk about stuff that matters to me he changes the subject. Now I know women are from Venus and men are from Mars, but is it wrong to want to share the journey with him? It unsettles me. It probably unsettles Fred worse. But this week was one of those weeks where I needed him and I couldn’t reach out to him for solace.

I kind of think this is part of my pattern too. If I can’t eat, then I need a man. Shit!

If I look at all this honestly (if that’s possible) I guess God is calling me to rely on myself, pray and console myself with his holy spirit. Food is easier. Men are easier. Yea, yea, only in the short term though. Damn it.

God I hate having to be a grown up. Wonder if I’ll ever get there!