Quick hit: Vanity, thy name is Blonde

Soooo . . . I’ve been trying to run/walk/whatever in the park every MWF.  But I’m not doing anything tonight.

“Why?”  I hear you cry.

Because I got my hair colored SERIOUSLY blond last night, and am not supposed to wash it for 2-3 days.  So sweating?  Is OUT.

Priorities people, priorities.  And boy, do I have them. 

Welcome, MizFits!

Thank you for stopping by!  *waves*  It’s nice to meet you all!  And thanks, MizFit, for the link!  (I just realized I haven’t written anything in this post that doesn’t have an exclamation point yet!  And it’s starting to annoy even me!  So I have to knock that crap off!  LOL)

Aaaaanyway.  Feel free to look around, but a word of warning: I have NO ability to be short or to-the-point.  Ha!  The “About Me” tab is probably the best place to start: it’s the shortest, most to-the-point thing I’ve got on here, and it’s a halfway decent overview of this blog (subject to change according to my whim, of course ;D).  Beyond that . . . you’re on your own, kids.  Take your jacket and look both ways before you cross the street!  It’s a scary place out there in my head. 

So, that’s it!  Have fun!  (Again with the exclamation points!  WHAT is THAT about??) 

Part 1 - Intuitive Eating

Yes, that’s right: it’s a double-post Thursday!  Actually, this post and the one below started life as one REALLY LONG post, but then . . . they were kind of separate things, after all.  But they’re both in my head, so I’m posting them both, and they’re kind of related, so my recommendation is to read them both together.  Or not.  Because let’s face it: if you don’t, I’m not gonna know!  LOL

So.  I’ve been eating fewer (refined) carbohydrates in an effort to balance my blood sugar.  And it’s been working pretty well, which is SO neat.  It’s nice not to be exhausted all the time - who knew?  LOL.  Last night I went hiking with a friend of mine and then afterward we went to this KICKASS macrobiotic restaurant downtown for dinner.  Without thinking I ordered my favorite thing on the menu: seared tuna with avocado, sprouts and pickled onions on a whole wheat bun.  My friend also got some baked fries for us to split.  After I placed my order and paid I thought, “Oh, crap.  I’m not supposed to be eating bread.”  And then I thought, “This is EXACTLY the kind of thinking you need to knock off!  You’re not ‘dieting!’  You only go hiking once a week, and you missed last week, so a freakin’ hamburger bun and a few fries once a week (at the most) aren’t going to kill you.  DO NOT get neurotic about this!”  So I enjoyed my “burger” and as many fries as I wanted (which always turns out to be fewer than I would have eaten if I thought of them as “bad” foods, interestingly enough).

But.

By the time I got home to my apartment, I had a KILLER stomachache.  The kind with the sharp, stabbing pain in your lower stomach?  Anyone?  Just me?  Oooooookay, then.  I took some (more) enzymes and waited for the pain to subside enough to fall asleep.  And this morning when I woke up, I just couldn’t bring myself to eat eggs.  I still felt a little sick, and (ironically) I wanted BREAD.

Now here’s the thing I run into with Intuitive Eating: I really do believe that nine times out of ten, my body KNOWS what it needs.  If I wander around the farmer’s market and think, “Oo, fennel looks good!” then I buy fennel because I figure there’s probably a nutrient in there I need that day.  If I feel like I really want some peanut butter, I just eat it.  And so forth.  But this morning I got up and wanted bread like WHOA.  And I KNOW it will make me sick again - that has been borne out again and again in my experience.  So why do I want something that I KNOW will make me sick?  (I know, I know: brain chemicals are the answer.)  And it wasn’t like an inner 7-year-old that WANTS IT WANTS IT WANTS IT!!!  *insert foot stamping here*  It was the same sort of want that I get for certain vegetables or certain meat sometimes.  So now what?  How do I reconcile the IE with the knowlege that sometimes stuff like that makes me sick?  (As it turned out, I had a glass of milk and a couple spoonfuls of hazelnut butter for breakfast: no refined carbs, but enough fat and carbs to settle my stomach and some protein to “stick to my ribs.”  It was, interestingly, the only thing other than BREAD that sounded even remotely good to eat.)

Actually, maybe I just answered my own question above: “It was, interestingly, the only thing other than BREAD that sounded even remotely good to eat.”  Maybe the answer with the IE is to say, “Ok, I know that [x] food will make me sick, so even if I want it, I’m not going to eat it.  So the next question is, what ELSE sounds good?”  And then eat whatever else sounds good.  Even if it’s just milk and hazelnut butter.  (Can I just say that I had an elementary school flashback this morning while I ate that?  A big ol’ glass of milk and a spoonful of nut butter.  I felt like I was 8 years old, LOL.)

*Edited to add: my system is TOTALLY screwed from that bread.  I had a pretty small breakfast, and it’s almost 11:30 in the morning and food STILL sounds gross.  Wow.

Part 2 - Be Careful What You Wish For

And the above post (Part 1) leads me to this: since I started eating fewer refined carbs, there has been an interesting side effect: I’m losing weight. 

Six months ago, I would have been STOKED, but now?  Now I’m not sure I’m happy about it.  Or rather, the disordered part of my brain is jumping up and down, pumping its fists in the air and screaming “YESSSSSS!  ON OUR WAY TO SKINNY, BABY!”  But the sane part of me is saying, “Dammit.  I was just finally, FINALLY getting to the point where the Crazy Bitch in my head was quieting down and I was getting to be ok with just taking care of myself for the sake of JUST TAKING CARE OF MYSELF.” 

So this is weird.  I’m simultaneously excited and dismayed that the numbers on the scale are dropping.  And I’m losing fast, so I know it’s water weight, not REAL weight, blah, blah, blah, but still.  It seriously takes every bit of self-control I have not to get on the scale.  A LOT.  (I tried to put it in the closet and make it inconvenient, but that didn’t work.  And throwing it out is so NOT gonna happen yet.  It gives me anxiety attacks to even think about that - which is ironic, since when I was the most disordered, I didn’t HAVE a scale.  I was all about the tape measure.) 

Now, bear in mind that my losing weight could be attributable to a number of things.  I’m finally getting into the habit of taking thyroid supplements, which means I’m taking them more regularly (ahem).  And there is the lack of carbs, for whatever that’s worth.  And the fact that I recently started getting more active again lately.  And the fact that I’m also taking some other supplements for other problems.  AND the fact that my blood sugar isn’t spiking and dropping (because of fewer refined carbs).  So basically, my body is starting to regulate itself. 

There are SO MANY factors for why I’m losing weight (and I know that my weight could level out any minute), but all I can hear in my head is Crazy Bitch muttering things like, “See, all that time you really WERE just lazy and slobby and FATFATFATFATFAT!!!  You could have lost the weight if you had just RESTRICTED a LITTLE MORE and EXERCISED a LITTLE MORE.  You were just a lazy, bad FATTY and you’re STILL a lazy, bad FATTY!  You.  Are.  Disgusting.”  But.  I know that because of my jacked-up metabolism, I would have had to get down to no more than 800 calories a day, with at least 60 minutes of hard-core, barf-inducing cardio in order to lose weight.  (I’ve done it.  It’s not fun.)  In retrospect, I’m sure my thyroid had something to contribute to my inability to lose weight, too (although I didn’t know it at the time).  So the REALITY is that restricting my food “a LITTLE MORE” and exercising a “LITTLE MORE” would NOT NOT NOT have made a difference.  I KNOW I’m not lazy or undisciplined or any of that shit.

But it’s still tough to hear in my head.  And every time that scale drops, I hear it again.  (Because yanno, you’re only a worthwhile human being if you’re thin.  Whatever.)

On the other hand, maybe that’s a good thing.  Getting on the scale activates the issue, and I can grapple with it directly.  I don’t want to ignore Crazy Bitch and pretend that she’s not there - I want her OUT.  So avoiding the things that “trigger” Crazy Bitch isn’t the answer, at least not for me.  Six months ago I wouldn’t have been strong enough to sit in my head and hear her ranting without capitulating entirely: “You’re right, I’m sorry, I don’t even deserve to EAT AT ALL.”  Now, after reading all the FA blogs in the feeds and in my blogroll I can sit there and listen to her and still say, “Yeah, but you are in-fucking-SANE, Crazy Bitch.  And you’re wrong.  So shut the hell up, because YOUARENOTTHEBOSSOFME!!!!”  (Sometimes that inner 7-year-old is handy, you know?  LOL)

Aaaaaanyway.  Life is . . . “entertaining,” these days. 

*sings* Dun, dun DUUNNNNNNNN!!!!!!

Ok, that was supposed to be the old horror movie music. 

Someone has found me out.  I never told anyone I know about this blog, because I wanted it to be someplace where I could vent safely about whatever was on my mind.  The only reason I kept a blog instead of a journal was for my narcissism accountability.  See, at the time I started writing, I was still acting, and I figured that if I ever “made it” that people would Google me and come across this site and that they might feel better knowing that even someone who had “made it” struggled with weight and self-esteem, because I know I would LOVE to see a blog from someone famous saying, “Hey, things sucked for a long time.  Hang in there, it gets better.”  So I hoped to be that person.  (What?  I admitted I was a narcissist.  ;))

Anyway, I check my Blog Stats regularly, mostly because I think it’s interesting to see what other blogs people are coming from and what Google searches they’re using that lead them here.  So I know I’ve been found out by someone I know because over the last 2 days someone has entered my first and last name into Google and then viewed this site.  Four times.  Each day.  Ahem.  And I have a REALLY weird name, so it’s not like someone could just pull it out of a hat and find me out of sheer luck.  (Marste really is my first name, so for someone to type that in with the CORRECT last name?  Not a coincidence.)

(Actually, know what’s really cool?  When I Googled myself just now to see where on the list this blog came up - it was the third entry, btw - the first two sites that come up under my name are for a short film and a play I was in.  That’s kind of neat.)

I figured eventually someone I know would stumble across it, but it’s still a little weird not to be anonymous anymore.  (I know that was the original intent, but I’ve gotten used to my relative anonymity.)

Helloooooo whomever is out there and knows better than to tell me you found me!  *waves* 
(I hope I didn’t write anything bad about the person who found me.  That could get dicey.)

Things that make you go “Woot!”

In the midst of all the emotional/mental drama that I direct toward my body, I have to share something cool.

I have always been pretty fit, no matter what my weight.  It usually surprises people - sometimes it even surprises me!  And I don’t have to do much to maintain that - I think it’s a holdover from all the dancing I did in my childhood and teen years that my body seems to build and retain muscle pretty easily.

But about 3 weeks ago I went hiking with a friend of mine (in Runyon Canyon, if you’re familiar with Los Angeles).  We took the steep part up and the slightly-less-steep part down, because coming down the steep part means you REALLY have to watch your step: it’s not paved the way the slightly-less-steep part is, so you’re more likely to break your neck if you’re not a mountain goat.  And when we got to the top, I had to STOP AND REST.  We weren’t climbing aggressively, or moving fast.  We were moving steadily, but not particularly quickly, and my friend wasn’t even out of breath - but I was.

Oh, shit.

That was my “tipping point,” if you will.  I can handle being fat, but out of shape?  I’ve never REALLY been out of shape.  I’ve certainly been more in shape at some times than at other times, but never, NEVER really OUT of shape. 

So I decided to start walking/running in the park again (depending on whether the running hurt my knees or not).  The first day I did it (2 weeks ago)?  I walked it pretty fast - about 1.5 or 2 miles (I don’t know the exact length of the loop) - and I was OUT OF BREATH.  Just a little bit, but still.  Holy Mother of God.  I went back Wednesday and then Friday, and then last week M, W, F. 

This brings me to the thing that I LOVE about my body.  I build muscle really fast.  I build endurance really fast.  Even under the fat, I really have an athelete’s body: a body that without much encouragement at all will rapidly become strong and powerful.  (When I danced, my strongest area - no pun intended - was leaps and jumps because I had some rockin’ quads and calves.  I could usually get almost as much height, and even more “hang time” than the guys could, and that’s saying a LOT.)  I LOVE that about my body.

So.  By last Friday (the end of the 2nd week) I was running about half the time and NOT out of breath.  And this weekend, when I was trying on bridesmaid dresses, I saw the muscle definition of my quads already coming back around my knees (even through the fat, LOL).  I figure that Mother Nature didn’t give me the ability to lose weight easily, and I’m grateful for that, because I really would have been a dancer, and that means that it’s highly likely I would still be sick and eating disordered.  Instead I have to learn to accept and love myself exactly the way that I am, which is really a tremendous gift. 

But that part of me that craves instant gratification?  Is really, really glad that I build muscle so fast.  It gives me some marker of progress toward being healthier just a week or two out of the gate. 

I might stay fat, but I can still be strong and powerful.  Woot! 

Look to the right –>

See that Alzheimer’s ribbon?  Go get yourself one.  For someone you love, or for my Memo.

Thanks to Vesta44 for posting the link.

Loose Ends

So the last post and some of the comments on it combined with what is going on in my life right now, made me think about some things. 

I have a new eating plan, which I am calling a “diet,” although I’m not doing it for weight loss.  It’s more like a “Hey-let’s-see-if-I-can-keep-my-blood-sugar-from-spiking-and-dropping” diet.  And it’s a little weird, because I hear “diet” and my inner teenager hollers, “HOORAY!  WEIGHT LOSS!” and then I have to patiently explain to her/myself that no, this is NOT about weight loss. 
“It’s not?”
“No.  It’s about taking better care of myself.”
“Yeah, yeah.  Will we lose weight?”
“Um, I don’t know.  Maybe.  Maybe not.”
“But there are certain foods we’re eating less of?”
“Well, yes.”
“Well, that’ll make us lose weight!”
“Like I said, maybe, maybe not.  Weight-loss isn’t the point.”
“Why are we eating less of certain foods if it’s not for weight-loss?”
“Because it’s healthier.”
“But it’s still a diet.”
“Yes.”
“WOO-HOO!  Weight loss!”
*headdesk*

It doesn’t help matters that I took what my nutritionist said, and since I was having a hard time changing my diet on my own, I looked around for an ACTUAL diet to follow/modify.  I got her seal of approval for the South Beach Diet, with a few modifications: only full-fat dairy (no lowfat or non-fat crap, yay!) and a wider range of protein options.  (Specifically I’m under orders to keep eating liver.  The “official” South Beach guidelines are that liver is too fatty, but I like it, and it’s really high in B vitamins, which I am really deficient in - score one for Intuitive Eating! - so it’s staying in my diet.)  But the disconnect is that it’s primarily used as a weight-loss diet by most people (it was originally designed to be a diet for heart patients, but . . . ), so I’m having a little bit of a hard time disconnecting the association of “diet” and “weight-loss.” 

Not to mention that cheering teenager in my head who WON’T SHUT UP.

Also, a mini-rant: while I was still researching various eating plans, I logged into some South Beach forums to ask about the dairy, and do you know what someone told me?  That SB might not be for me because “the number of contradictions” (that would be ONE) might keep me from doing it “appropriately.”  Seriously.  “Appropriately?”  WTF?  That right there is a BIG reason that people go crazy on diets: “If you can’t do it right, don’t do it at all.”  Now this person knows NOTHING about my eating habits, but because of the milk thing, this isn’t the thing for me.  Um, ok.  I’m of the opinion that if you want to be heathier, then something is better than nothing, but whatever.  (Point of victory, though: I did manage to keep Crazy Bitch from derailing the whole thing, based on the fact that I couldn’t do it “right.”  Woo!)

I’ve also been thinking a lot about Intuitive Eating and how to apply it when I have dietary restrictions that seem to run counter to what I “want.”  And I think I have to remember that as long as my Intuitive Eater is speaking in the voice of a 7-year-old on Halloween (CANDY!), it doesn’t get a vote.  Or maybe it gets half of a vote.  Because lemme tell ya, that kid is GONE right after the fun ends, and I have to deal with the sugar hangover for the next three days.  The little brat.  I also think it’s important for me to distinguish between something I WANT and something I NOTICED.  If I want a donut, I’ll think about it more than once, and probably over a couple of days (since I don’t usually have them in the house, and will have to go get some).  That’s something I want.  If I’m driving home after work and I’m kind of hungry, and I pass a donut shop and think “OO!  Donuts!” that’s something I NOTICED (there’s that kid again: OO!  SHINY!).  Things that I happen to Notice don’t really fall into the realm of Intuitive Eating, at least for me.  (Funny how even though I love vegetables, I never happen to Notice them.  I only Notice junk food.  Ahem.) 

Actually, that is probably the distinction I hadn’t really drawn before just now, and is a big part of the reason that as much as I love Intuitive Eating, I find it really frustrating.  The thing I’ve been going round and round with in my head is, “Well, should I eat junk food if I want it?  What if I want it every day?” But maybe that’s not the issue.  Maybe what I really need to pay attention to is what I Want vs. what I Notice, and then eat what I Want and skip what I Notice (since it’s always what I Notice that makes me sick later, anyway). 

["Ooo, if we skip food, we'll lose weight, right?"]
["Shut up, shutup, SHUTUP!  Jesus!"]

I have to admit though, that I’m not so enlightened on the FA path as to not care if I lose weight.  I’ve been culturally indoctrinated enough that I really, really hope I do.  But I also know that if I don’t (and I might not - my eating habits are pretty good already), I’m not going to go do anything crazy about it.  I’m not going to restrict or start eating non-fat dairy or exercise for an extra 90 minutes a day or any of that.  (I will especially not count Points.  Ahem.)  But I can’t lie and pretend to be more ok with myself than I am.  I’m still working on it - and in point of fact, I’ve come a long way, since I’m not going to actively try to “lose weight.”  But . . . the part of me that wants to be culturally acceptable?  Really hopes I lose weight as an ancillary benefit.  (I don’t like that part of me much, I have to admit, but there it is.)

And during ALL of this, I have to remember to watch out for Crazy Bitch.  The LAST thing I need to do is turn her loose with a “diet,” even if it’s a health-based diet.  (Not a weight-based diet.  I have to keep reminding myself of that.)

Pointed Pointlessness

I have a confession to make. 

I’ve been counting points.  Even during that post I wrote last week about Crazy Bitch.   Even then, I was counting points.  As in Weight Watchers Points.  ::::sigh::::  Crazy Bitch is very, very sneaky, yes she is. 

At first it was “no big deal.”  I was “just curious.”  Then I realized that I was pretty close to the “recommended” WW guidelines, so hey, what was a little planning?  I could plan my meals the next day to be within a certain number of Points, right?  Sure.  What could POSSIBLY be the harm in that? 

Oh, how easily I forget.

I forget the mental anxiety that comes with being faced with unpredictable situations.  I forget that I turn down lunch dates because I have a “food plan” and I have to “stick to it.”  I forget that if I don’t have the ”right” food or that if forget my lunch at home, I will FREAK THE FUCK OUT.  I forget that suddenly I won’t eat certain foods, not just today, but not at ALL because OMG I’LL USE UP ALL MY POINTS.  I forget that when I invariably slip up and eat those foods, it sometimes leads to a binge and that it ALWAYS leads to serious self-flagellation over what a weak person I am.  I forget that I skip cake at birthday celebrations and parties, and spend the whole party trying to conceal that fact, instead of enjoying the company of my friends.  I forget that in order not to make it obvious that I’m skipping food, I’ll carry it around and then discreetly throw it out.  And then when I’m starving later, I’ll go home and eat TWICE as much food as I would have at the party because I’m SO. FUCKING. HUNGRY.  And that, of course, leads to more of the above-mentioned self-flagellation.

How quickly I forget all of that.

But at the same time, I know I need to change how I eat and what I eat, because of those health issues I mentioned in another post.  And the thing is, because of the hypoglycemia, my skills at Intuitive Eating are not so great.  I crave simple carbohydrates when my blood sugar is low, when what I SHOULD be eating (yes, I used the “should” word) is protein.  The thought of protein makes me gag at that point, but when I choke it down, damned if I don’t feel better in about 10 minutes.  I’d probably do really well on a low-carb diet of some sort, but as soon as I “can’t have” something, that’s EXACTLY what I want to eat.  Low-carb?  I want PASTA.  Low-fat?  I want CREAM in my COFFEE, dammit. 

I used to think that was just evidence of my lack of willpower, but now I’m more inclined to think that it’s because I’m paying so much more attention to what I can’t have (since I’m “watching out” for it everywhere) that it makes me think about it more, which makes me WANT it more.  So following that logic, I’d be better off just trying to eat a “balanced” diet, but at this point, I don’t really have a concept of what that even IS anymore - there are so many different “balanced” diets out there, all claiming that the others are bad.  And then I come full circle, stop, back to the fact that for me, personally, white flour really fucks with my system.  So can I eat pasta?  Yes.  Will it make me sick as all hell?  Well, yes.  So I probably shouldn’t eat it.  And then full circle AGAIN, back to the fact that I want what I can’t have. 

I keep telling myself that “can’t” have and “shouldn’t” have and “CHOOSE NOT TO” have are very, very different things.  I can have pasta, and “should” or “shouldn’t” shouldn’t(!) come in to play.  It’s a choice.  Each choice has different consequences: I can eat pasta and not have the craving but feel sick, or I can choose to NOT eat pasta, and I might still have the craving but I won’t feel sick.  But sometimes that’s hard to remember in the deluge of messages telling me what I “should” and “shouldn’t” eat. 

But obviousy, I “SHOULDN’T” be counting goddam POINTS. 
(Note to self: try not to forget that this time, ok?)

That Crazy Bitch Who Lives in My Head

The title is with apologies (and thanks) to Rachel.  I’d always thought of that voice as the crazy PERSON who lives in my head, but really?  She IS a bitch.  (Rachel, if you read this, I tried to link directly to the post where you used that term,  but I couldn’t find it.)

Anyway.

Remember all that stuff I wrote about the hypoglycemia and the thyroid stuff and the gallbladder stuff?  Well, the upshot is that if I don’t want to feel like shit all the time, I have to make some drastic changes in what and how I eat.  (Actually, I have to make more changes in the “how,” and just a few in the “what,” so that’s nice.)  But one of the things I had to start doing was keeping a food journal, so that I could figure out what was going on when I was letting my blood sugar get super low, and then when I was knocking it out of the park. 

But can I just say that the only time I’ve ever kept a food journal has been when I was dieting?  And not just “dieting,” or even “Dieting.”  But when I was D.I.E.T.I.N.G.  That’s Dieting like a hard-core, self-hating, self-punishing, “you’re-too-fat-to-be-worth-the-space-you-take-up-you-cow-why-don’t-you-just-DIE” kind of Dieting.  I used to keep that journal so that I could write myself nasty notes in the margins next to foods that I thought were “bad.”  Notes like “THIS is why you’re so FAT!!!!!” with fat underlined 4 or 5 times, next to things like . . . eggs.  Yes, eggs.  Because you know, there’s FAT in eggs, and fat was BAD, and I should have just eaten egg whites.  See?  Crazy. 

I actually think that all that self-hatred is what finally flipped me from starving to bingeing.  I started not writing down certain foods, because I couldn’t bear to see them on paper.  I couldn’t bear to see how weak I was.  After a while, I got to where I would have black-out binges, much like a drinker blacks out.  I couldn’t handle the idea that I had eaten something “bad” and so I would literally block it out.  I have memories of “waking up” in my kitchen, having eaten TONS of food, and having NO memory of doing it, of looking at the clock and realizing that I had just “lost” 2 or 3 HOURS.  It was fucking TERRIFYING.

Having come through the other side of all that, I don’t hear the voice very often anymore, and when I do I can usually shut it down pretty fast.  But in keeping this journal, that Crazy Bitch has come roaring back with a ferocity that I cannot believe.  The other day I found myself not wanting to write down that I had a glass of wine and a piece of cheese (and lemme tell ya, that wine and cheese tasted SO GOOD) after dinner.  Because, you know: alcohol + fat = BAD FATTY (protein doesn’t count: we’re in Crazy-town here).  But you know what the ironic thing is?  Crazy Bitch would argue that I should just have the glass of wine and skip the cheese.  But my DOCTOR told me if I wanted to drink, to MAKE SURE I got some protein and fat with the alcohol, so that my blood sugar didn’t skyrocket (and then crash 30 minutes later). 

So here’s what I did (which seems a little weird, but bear with me): I started a journal to keep track of my journal.  I put a calendar page on the fridge, and every day when I write down what I eat without leaving anything out or skipping food that I want or adding calorie counts next to it (because oh, God, Crazy Bitch REALLY REALLY wants to add calorie counts, pleasepleasepleeeeeeeease), I mark off a day on the calendar page.  It’s like my own internal “Fuck you” to the Crazy Bitch: See, here’s one more day where you DIDN’T RUN MY LIFE, GODDAMMIT.  And you know, it helps.  Because as I mark those days off, I see the string of them grow.  Two days sane, 4 days sane, a week sane.  It gives me a sense of accomplishment to keep Crazy Bitch quiet and losing the battles.

I’ve spent a lot of time avoiding doing things that I knew would cause her to re-emerge.  And honestly, most of those things I wouldn’t choose to do on a day-to-day basis anyway (like keep a food journal), but still.  The fact that even taking care of my own health involves (at this point) doing things that activate Crazy Bitch means that I’m reluctant to do those things, and with good reason.

So in an odd way, I’m glad to see her: I’m looking at this as an opporutnity to dig her out of my psyche and evict her permanently, instead of just avoiding the things that I know will cause her to re-emerge.  And there are things I still won’t choose to do on a regular basis (like food journaling), but that will be a much freer (and therefore stronger) choice because there won’t be the fear involved. 

Pack your bags, Crazy Bitch.  You don’t get to run my life anymore.  I win, you lose, every damn day on that calendar page.  Get out.