Rainy days and Mondays always get me done …
When I woke up this morning in Downey, CA, it was lightly raining in what is usually sunny, southern California. Please do not take this to mean that I am bitter about the rain; I am not. It was welcomed relief to a place that is now considered in a state of emergency due to current drought status.
The Carpenters’ song, “Rainy Days and Mondays”, came to mind when I looked out the window. However, the first few lines reflected my true mood. Currently, I am nursing a bruised ego and pride after saying something yesterday that caused some injury. And, while I can apologize for what it is said, it does not take away the bubble that is hanging out there.
Additionally, Karen Carpenter, in general, has been on my mind since I have moved here. If you do a Google search about the Carpenters, you will inevitably learn that Karen and Richard Carpenter lived in Downey for a portion of their lives. The public library has a display case with some of their memorabilia – including some pictures and a gold record or two. Since moving here, I have learned a few things about Karen: 1. Last year was the 30th year anniversary of her death 2. She died on the birthday of my middle daughter, Sammie – February 4th 3.The first place that she lived in Downey when she moved here with her parents and brother is located literally a few blocks away from where my house currently is.
If I do the math, I would ascertain that if it has been 30 years since Karen Carpenter’s death, it has been 30 years since I have grappled, myself, with eating disorders. Many of you who found this post via my Facebook will remember that part of my life when I was struggling to overcome anorexia nervosa. For those of you who have come to know me more recently, this fact is probably a bit of a surprise as I have spent most of my adult life beyond college extremely overweight. My spiral down the rabbit hole known as anorexia began around the same time that Karen made the phrase and disease newsworthy.
When I graduated high school, I weighed slightly over 80 pounds. In fact, the reason I started gaining weight at that time was because the doctor who was taking care of me at the time would not release me to go off to Blackburn unless I had gained 20 pounds. And, the pounds kept adding on and on …
In many ways, I feel like I have failed. The worst fear I had when I was anorexic was gaining extra weight. However, I think the real, biggest fear was and remains the loss of control. Anorexia, for me, was always about control … with a dash of perfection. Perfect control. When life was out of balance or too many unknowns were facing me, I could control my weight loss. Fueled by hours upon hours of exercise, diet pills and yes at times even laxatives or fingers down my throat, I could take control of the metrics on the scale and make the numbers go lower and lower. I felt such a sense of power. Complete control. Pure perfection. And if I had an instance where the number on the scale fluctuated or – heaven forbid – went up, rapid self-deprecating and admonishment would occur, sending me to even more exercise and denial of nourishment.
For the past year, I have gradually been working towards losing excess weight and am proud to say that I am almost back to my pre-marriage weight. However, I wish I could say that the weight loss journey was easier, 30 years later. It isn’t. The same strategies that I found for “perfect control” are still as seductive as they were three decades ago. Exercise – especially early in the morning when I feel like I am “sneaking” as I did when I would go out and run the country roads near my home – gives me an endorphin rush that cannot be replicated. Interestingly, when one is obese, the perception is that one cannot have too much exercise; however, juxtapose that with someone underweight as I was and exercise had to be carefully controlled and monitored. Perception becomes our reality. Similarly, I feel a sense of empowerment – control – when I refuse food that I desperately want or even a greater sense of power when I leave substantial food on my plate. Diet pills still make the job easier by dulling the hunger and increasing the energy. Scales still create a huge amount of anxiety for me and I am certain that my blood pressure is not normally high but it is always taken at the doctor’s office right after I am asked to step on one of those judgment monsters. Control – perfect control – and I still hunger for it. And with the importance place by society on outward beauty and model-thin bodies, there exists social acceptance to fuel the fervor behind such desires.
I hope this time that balance prevails. The weight loss seems much slower and more healthy this time around although I am not sure that is due to common sense at the helm or a slower metabolism! And, this time, I am working to lose weight and manage diabetes at the same time – an even more complicated balancing act. Not eating or exercising too much completely sends me into a diabetic tail spin. However, the times I fail myself and even worse – when I fail others – I long for time that I felt I had ultimate control of my weight … yet in reality … that was the time I had the very least.
Two freeways diverged ... 