Calm with a Horizon of Anxiety

Returning to blogging after a long absence feels a lot like trying to return to dieting  eating according to plan after a long absence/putting on a lot of weight: The task can seem unmanageable, and even with the best and firmest of intentions, days and weeks go by. And really, what’s one more day at that point?

For the record, I haven’t put on a lot of weight that I’m aware of – I haven’t gotten on a scale for two years now. But what I wanted to type was: I haven’t put on a lot of weight yet. Because I’ve gotten pretty messy with my food lately, and while at one point that looked like recovery, it no longer does.

Come again?

I know, it sounds crazy. (But when have I ever not sounded that way?) Being rigid and strict with my diet (not a word I use any more, actually) led straight to bingeing, so the ability to be a bit messy was good at the start. Not so much any more.

In April I went to Thailand and Vietnam and overate every day (it didn’t help that my travel companion was basically the restaurant whisperer, incapable of picking a bad place or a dud entrée.) I felt more and more uncomfortable, things felt tighter and tighter, and yet I kept overeating. I did zero exercise. The number of items in my suitcase I wanted to wear shrank. All the feelings I used to feel came back: The despair, the terror of having nothing that still fit to wear on the airplane home, the terror of the fact that everything in my suitcase might never fit again, but being too afraid even to try it on and see how bad the damage was.

Eating, drinking, not exercising – sure, that’s what people do on holiday. But when I got back to London, instead of getting back into more normal portions and foods, I carried on justifying all manner of extra food as “oh hey, at least I’m not restricting.” I felt uncomfortable, and didn’t want to face friends, thinking they were looking at me with pity, wondering how I’d gained so much weight in such a short time. (This last bit, given that it turned out I could still wear all but my super skinniest of jeans, was probably all in my head, but that didn’t make the feeling less real, or paralyzing.)

I’m still – six weeks later – probably a little bigger than I was before I went (but again, I don’t know what I weighed before I left and I don’t know what I weigh now, but certain clothes feel tighter, or they fit differently than they did last summer.) I have more uncertainty and probably fear in all areas of my life than possibly ever before, which creeps into how and what I eat (more of which, in another post.) And so here I am. I’m not sure I’ve ever dealt with a tiny weight gain – I’d just start bingeing, first occasionally, and then more frequently, until no amount of exercise or restricting could balance it out. I don’t do elaborate diets or exercise regimens any more; all I want is just to feel a bit more accountable; to take away the horizon of anxiety that has cropped up lately when it comes to my weight.

So I’m making a promise to post for 30 days, however briefly.

It’s good to be back.