Necessary Mutilation

Weight: 217.7 lbs.

Tom is off today, right? He’d said so all week, and we have made our plans accordingly. On his school calendar, it says “teachers’ conference day” in block letters.

So why did the phone ring and wake us up at 7:10, with Tom’s boss asking where he was?! Apparently Tom has three out-of-district children that he drives to an alternative site so that their district bus can run them to another school. Who he forgot about or didn’t realize had school today as his own district is off.

OOOPS! Hopefully this won’t go against him…as he said he’d rouse and run in ASAP, and would have had they not called right back to say that they got someone to cover for him.

Hope this isn’t a bad omen for our gambling day!

Speaking of which, I realize that I have been writing often here about the gambles of all sorts that I am engaged in, including with food. I have been thinking about this and realize that, probably given my history and perhaps innate temperment, I both crave excitement and have a very low tolerence for deprivation. My father, although low-key, mellow, and seemingly balanced, was addicted to “the horses,” and went to Vernon Downs racetrack several times weekly. I recall how this appeared to be such an enigmatic aspect of his personality, as he was usually thrifty, organized, thoughtful, and planful in his manner both with money and his overall approach to life. However, a few times each week, he ran off to be big man on campus, throw money at the horses, and leave it all behind. I guess. This made my mother crazy, and as a child I hated that he did this too;  at some points I kept records of his losings and wondered how he could seemingly squander so much money. In all other areas, including dietary, he was disciplined and steady.

I too can be the most focused, organized, planful, and disciplined individual on the planet … or a squanderous, hedonistic mess with not just gambling like the casino or auctions, but with my life. I tend to oscillate between the two, in fact, and at times amaze even myself with my great resolve, and at others, like last night during our in-home pizza party, I can throw all caution to the wind and make excuses for myself to color outside all lines. If I hadn’t “passed” my mandated MMPI (personality test) with such flying colors, I’d swear I was defective!

Seriously though, I do think of the roots of my behavior, and recognize my strong aversion to feelings of deprivation as related to my childhood. I was the proverbial “lost child” – the invisible, wallpaper kid who keeps a low profile to stay afloat amidst profound dysfunction, but who feels hugely lonely, neglected, and detached, as a result. My father was 56 when I was born, so was elderly AND often absent (if not physically, emotionally), and overly invested in defenses of denial and repression. He didn’t or couldn’t see how my mother’s rageful behavior controlled and hurt us or, if he did, he chose to do nothing to stop her and left the house rather than confront such unpleasantries. This left my brother and me alone with a histrionic, raging, needy woman who allowed us little leeway, few possessions, and hardly any room to breathe. I felt unsafe and lonely, and any possessions I coveted or that might have provided comfort (like my paint-by-numbers, which I loved), my mother would throw away in a fit of rage at any time, if she saw fit. This left Roy and me with little to call our own; she even dictated that our bedrooms were for sleeping only, such that they were never decorated or filled with the things most kids would enjoy. Instead, they were sterile, joyless spaces used just for sleeping – or staying awake and worrying that she was lurking and may extend her tirade into the night.

She also ruled the house with an iron hand, and we had to ask permission to have or do anything, including a drink of water, to open a window, or to eat a snack. After a while you just give up, and go without. The house was also “decorated” only to her taste, which really amounted to drab and weary furnishings that were almost never replaced as my mother rarely left the house and almost never shopped. I even recall looking around hundreds of times as a child, and wishing that I could liven, reorganize, brighten up, or better decorate our space. It was a decent house and had good potential and, organization-minded as I genetically am, even back then I wished I could bring things to their full potential and use the space better. I think what I really yearned for is anything that would make me feel a part of my enviroment and breathe some happiness and life into our very depressed, joyless existence. We also rarely went anywhere together as a family, and each day was the same boring, lonely thing, with little new, child-centered, or fun to break up the monotony, bond us, or provide stimulation and pleasure. This may have suited my parents, who rarely interacted anyway and seemed to prefer being left alone, but as a child I was left to create my own pleasures through fantasy, reading, and other solitary exercises that didn’t bring me onto the radar or rock the boat. The only breaks in this routine and “excitement” consisted of my mother’s nervous breakdowns, parents’ fights, screaming lunacy and beatings by my mother, and school!

Sooo … I am aware that I hit the road running, starting first with college, where I was never so happy and found all the things I lacked at home. Cameraderie, fun, safety, joy, and a lifestyle of my own design. I have been reveling in this ever since;  I do realize that my attachment to both things and novelty is a direct need to fill myself and my life with what I missed out on. Moreso, I crave and thrive on the keeping of my own spaces and find that I need them to be lively, colorful, and full of light and life. I have low tolerence for drab, austere, or disorderly. My space must be filled, and my lifestyle fulfilled. I must do things with gusto; to feel deprived in any way takes me back to a dark and lonely place that I can’t stand.

I do believe these to be the roots of my eating disorder and current “ways” but, although driven by these forces, I am not upset by them enough to wish to challenge them. For good or for bad. I could wish to be addicted to exercise and self-discipline instead of food and fun, but I still believe that my lifestyle can be compatible with decent habits if I remain aware of these forces and work with them in ways that I am still able to. For instance, rather than eliminate some food or other item entirely from my life, I can partake in more moderate and planful meals, and mete out goodies over time rather than overindulging all at once. If I say “no” altogether, I know myself well enough that this will actually erode my will, and I will have a rebound reaction where I then want that much more of whatever felt forbidden. I think this is not only human nature for most, but that much more of an entrenched feeling for me.

So, in taking inventory (this time without the benefit of a therapist!), I have concluded that my yin and yang are OK for now, although it may mean slower weight loss in the long run. I cannot not test the limits at this stage of who I am, but doing so mindfully may at least mitigate the damage and allow for some balance. Stupid, maybe. Dangerous, perhaps. Not by the book, probably. And, for those religious in their missions and post-gastric bypass discipline, I applaud you, but realize that I am not like you. And for today, at least, I am at peace with this realization.