So week four is here, but let me go back because the weekend was rough. It was the first time I ate dinner with friends. Well, let's be clear, they ate dinner. I sipped on some beef broth.
It wasn't as bad as you would think, and I didn't mind, but I did wish I was a few weeks out and could eat a little something. On Friday I felt so happy because I had lost another pound, and I felt like having that hummus and the pouch working was bringing me on the upswing.
Then on Sunday I started to feel down again and worried. I felt like I could never eat again and like what have I done to myself. Part of me wishes I would have tried harder to lose it before surgery. That way I could still eat...and that's when my brain said "big meals." And there you have it. I like to eat. I like to eat big filling meals. It is delicious, and it makes me feel happy and full. Not just full, but fullfilled. Satistifed, in only the way that a big meal can.
I was wandering around the house friday night and what came into my head was like you know what I feel like, settling in on the couch, getting cozy, and having a nice hearty meal. And I can't. But if I'm honest with myself, even if I was able to lose more weight before surgery, or without surgery, the reality is that I liked to overeat. I liked it alot. It was an activity I enjoyed, I was good at, and I could comfort myself with.
Ands that's exactly why I had to do this. Because I can't stop wanting and enjoying and hoping for a big meal.
I know growing up my mom always was commenting on what I ate. What I ordered at a restaurant was never right. If I had a sandwich and it came with fries she would count the fries and let me know how many I ate. If I ordered a burger, a comment. If I ordered a salad she claimed it was to spite her. The menu was always a minefield and I'd spend the time looking at the menu not to see what I might enjoy but what would cause the least anger, comments, and arguments.
She would send me mixed messages as a child. I never liked sweets much, but after school I'd get yelled at for having an apple or something healthy from the fridge. I'd say to her, I'm having an apple not a sleeve of cookies, what's the problem. She's say you're always eating. I couldn't win.
I think it made me want food more, and want to not only hide it and get it in big doses, but get as much as I could, because who knows when I'd get it again. I did it unreasonably so. The only time I felt better was when I had a a lot---even if I didn't eat it. Some people might say your eyes are bigger than your stomach, but for me it was deeper than that. I have the urge to order everything at a drive through, even if I I don't want to eat it. When making a plate at a buffet, there's ever enough room, and half of it I don't even want to eat. It's like an emotional food hoarding feeling, but just per meal. I don't have like boxes of crazy food around--just per meal. It's a weird feeling, one that I've been working on. And maybe should work on some more.
I find myself now at home in the evenings after a long day at work. My job is very long and stressful, and coming home, relaxing on the couch with something delicious was conforting, fulfilling, and downright enjoyable. It felt like relaxing, like a reward for all I did in the day. This was for me, to enjoy, to savor, do have complete control over. And I controlled it, each bite alright, right down my throat. It was delicious.
Even the worst meal, whether home cooked, or delivery was an experience. And the best part was, I could have whatever I wanted. From always dieting, I would often try to make good or better or at least reasonable choices, and I had a good deal of success with weight loss. Sure I wanted the big burger and gravy fries and the salad and the pickles, but often I'd pick the salad and small side of fries. Or some kind of pseudo compromise. Sometimes I'd just cook and have something altogether healthy. But there were those nights, often a Friday night, where I didn't make plans to go out, I didn't make a date or go out with friends, my Friday was being a homebody and cozing up in the couch with a movie and something completely delicious.
Now, I find myself on the couch after work, still stressed, still tired, still hungry, still emotionally and mentally wanting a meal, even a healthy one, and instead I have two spoonfuls of hummus and a few sips of pickle juice. It leaves me sad, angry, and unreasonably and unrationally so. I know it makes no sense. I know I made this choice for myself. I know I did this. But yet I feel like I have nothing else.
I know if I was giving the advice to "me" I know I'd say that you have to find something else to do. You can't sit on the couch like you used to because that is associated with eating and you can't do that anymore. You have to find something else to do it hath your time, your need to relax and destress, and to distract yourself. But yet, I'm eating so little, I don't have much energy. Running around all day at work coupled with not eating much saps me dry. And there's nothing and no one too do it with. My friends all live in NJ, which is fine for weekends but not feasible for week nights. I know the rational answer, but right now I'm more feeling than thinking.
Now I have to also do something with these feelings, these emotions. I have to find another way to deal with them other than eat something good and eat away whatever I'm feeling. I can't eat away the loneliness, the sadness, the stress, the worry, I can't even eat for happiness.
I've begun to cheat a little, or else lose my mind entirely. I didn't mean to. But while plain hummus isn't on the list from my doctor. Every sleeve book says hummus is ok, and I'm only a few days from eating real food, so I went for it. It feels like hummus is my gateway drug so to speak.
From there I began sucking on pretzels. I said to my co-workers, I can't eat it, but can sure suck the shit out of it. And I did.
But then today, I sucked so long that it disintegrated in my mouth, and I swallowed a piece as I answered a call. Then I swallowed another. I sucked the sour off of a gummy worm, and was horrified to accidentally swallow it. I could swear I could feel it sliding into my stomach and causing pain. Granted that was probably imagined because I was so worried. Then today with my hummus I ate a few light laughing cow wedges for lunch. I had a few bites too many and paid dearly for it with pain. It's still mentally hard to stop when you start feeling full. My brain is like we had four bites what the fuck! And since I've always been such a foodie, it's like I'm not yet done enjoying it. I have a bad (or good!?!?) feeling that when I eat real food I'll be able to have literally two bites.
Yesterday and today I also chewed up anew thin pickle slices really well and are them, What is wrong with me.
On a positive note, I have been getting a bit more protein as I'm forcing myself to have a protein shake as I drive to work, and I'm at 22.3 pounds. Oh and I finally went to the bathroom. Not much but I'd say I averaging maybe once a week if that, barely. It's tiny, and like a baby, and gross. I've started taking fiber gummy vitamins to help. Hopefully when I eat real food it will get better. But it is ridiculous how happy and excited I get when I go. Lol. Crazy shit.
Literally.
It wasn't as bad as you would think, and I didn't mind, but I did wish I was a few weeks out and could eat a little something. On Friday I felt so happy because I had lost another pound, and I felt like having that hummus and the pouch working was bringing me on the upswing.
Then on Sunday I started to feel down again and worried. I felt like I could never eat again and like what have I done to myself. Part of me wishes I would have tried harder to lose it before surgery. That way I could still eat...and that's when my brain said "big meals." And there you have it. I like to eat. I like to eat big filling meals. It is delicious, and it makes me feel happy and full. Not just full, but fullfilled. Satistifed, in only the way that a big meal can.
I was wandering around the house friday night and what came into my head was like you know what I feel like, settling in on the couch, getting cozy, and having a nice hearty meal. And I can't. But if I'm honest with myself, even if I was able to lose more weight before surgery, or without surgery, the reality is that I liked to overeat. I liked it alot. It was an activity I enjoyed, I was good at, and I could comfort myself with.
Ands that's exactly why I had to do this. Because I can't stop wanting and enjoying and hoping for a big meal.
I know growing up my mom always was commenting on what I ate. What I ordered at a restaurant was never right. If I had a sandwich and it came with fries she would count the fries and let me know how many I ate. If I ordered a burger, a comment. If I ordered a salad she claimed it was to spite her. The menu was always a minefield and I'd spend the time looking at the menu not to see what I might enjoy but what would cause the least anger, comments, and arguments.
She would send me mixed messages as a child. I never liked sweets much, but after school I'd get yelled at for having an apple or something healthy from the fridge. I'd say to her, I'm having an apple not a sleeve of cookies, what's the problem. She's say you're always eating. I couldn't win.
I think it made me want food more, and want to not only hide it and get it in big doses, but get as much as I could, because who knows when I'd get it again. I did it unreasonably so. The only time I felt better was when I had a a lot---even if I didn't eat it. Some people might say your eyes are bigger than your stomach, but for me it was deeper than that. I have the urge to order everything at a drive through, even if I I don't want to eat it. When making a plate at a buffet, there's ever enough room, and half of it I don't even want to eat. It's like an emotional food hoarding feeling, but just per meal. I don't have like boxes of crazy food around--just per meal. It's a weird feeling, one that I've been working on. And maybe should work on some more.
I find myself now at home in the evenings after a long day at work. My job is very long and stressful, and coming home, relaxing on the couch with something delicious was conforting, fulfilling, and downright enjoyable. It felt like relaxing, like a reward for all I did in the day. This was for me, to enjoy, to savor, do have complete control over. And I controlled it, each bite alright, right down my throat. It was delicious.
Even the worst meal, whether home cooked, or delivery was an experience. And the best part was, I could have whatever I wanted. From always dieting, I would often try to make good or better or at least reasonable choices, and I had a good deal of success with weight loss. Sure I wanted the big burger and gravy fries and the salad and the pickles, but often I'd pick the salad and small side of fries. Or some kind of pseudo compromise. Sometimes I'd just cook and have something altogether healthy. But there were those nights, often a Friday night, where I didn't make plans to go out, I didn't make a date or go out with friends, my Friday was being a homebody and cozing up in the couch with a movie and something completely delicious.
Now, I find myself on the couch after work, still stressed, still tired, still hungry, still emotionally and mentally wanting a meal, even a healthy one, and instead I have two spoonfuls of hummus and a few sips of pickle juice. It leaves me sad, angry, and unreasonably and unrationally so. I know it makes no sense. I know I made this choice for myself. I know I did this. But yet I feel like I have nothing else.
I know if I was giving the advice to "me" I know I'd say that you have to find something else to do. You can't sit on the couch like you used to because that is associated with eating and you can't do that anymore. You have to find something else to do it hath your time, your need to relax and destress, and to distract yourself. But yet, I'm eating so little, I don't have much energy. Running around all day at work coupled with not eating much saps me dry. And there's nothing and no one too do it with. My friends all live in NJ, which is fine for weekends but not feasible for week nights. I know the rational answer, but right now I'm more feeling than thinking.
Now I have to also do something with these feelings, these emotions. I have to find another way to deal with them other than eat something good and eat away whatever I'm feeling. I can't eat away the loneliness, the sadness, the stress, the worry, I can't even eat for happiness.
I've begun to cheat a little, or else lose my mind entirely. I didn't mean to. But while plain hummus isn't on the list from my doctor. Every sleeve book says hummus is ok, and I'm only a few days from eating real food, so I went for it. It feels like hummus is my gateway drug so to speak.
From there I began sucking on pretzels. I said to my co-workers, I can't eat it, but can sure suck the shit out of it. And I did.
But then today, I sucked so long that it disintegrated in my mouth, and I swallowed a piece as I answered a call. Then I swallowed another. I sucked the sour off of a gummy worm, and was horrified to accidentally swallow it. I could swear I could feel it sliding into my stomach and causing pain. Granted that was probably imagined because I was so worried. Then today with my hummus I ate a few light laughing cow wedges for lunch. I had a few bites too many and paid dearly for it with pain. It's still mentally hard to stop when you start feeling full. My brain is like we had four bites what the fuck! And since I've always been such a foodie, it's like I'm not yet done enjoying it. I have a bad (or good!?!?) feeling that when I eat real food I'll be able to have literally two bites.
Yesterday and today I also chewed up anew thin pickle slices really well and are them, What is wrong with me.
On a positive note, I have been getting a bit more protein as I'm forcing myself to have a protein shake as I drive to work, and I'm at 22.3 pounds. Oh and I finally went to the bathroom. Not much but I'd say I averaging maybe once a week if that, barely. It's tiny, and like a baby, and gross. I've started taking fiber gummy vitamins to help. Hopefully when I eat real food it will get better. But it is ridiculous how happy and excited I get when I go. Lol. Crazy shit.
Literally.
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