A History of Emotional Eating, Introspection, and Journaling

As a start to my therapy to find out why I struggle so much with emotional eating, I have been journaling when I eat and I know I’m eating for emotional reasons and not because I’m actually hungry.

I am ok with eating when I’m just enjoying a moment where food is involved—like enjoying a s’more or a delicious meal with family. I know that these occasional indulgences are not the root of my problem—it’s the overeating, or perhaps the bingeing, that I do in response to emotions.

Journaling has been eye opening. If you’re a long time reader, you know that I used to journal my food every day via pictures here on my blog. I would talk about a lot of things that happened throughout my day and how I was feeling. But the type of journaling that I’m doing now is much different and it is helping me become aware of what it feels like when I want to eat/binge on chocolate. Chocolate seems to be my drug of choice.

Here is how I was feeling before I decided to eat whatever food I was eating for emotional reasons within the past week:

emotionally drained, tired, overwhelmed, depressed, exhausted, hormonal, anxious, frustrated, stressed, and feeling judged.

Now that I’ve been paying attention, I can literally feel it coming on. My entire body becomes tense, I feel tired, and the only thing I can think about is getting that sugar fix. Literally, I cannot get it off of my mind. And sometimes I feel better after eating something, but most of the time I don’t and it leads to a downward spiral.

This is certainly not something new and sugar/chocolate has not always been my fix. I can actually pinpoint exactly when chocolate became my drug of choice.

It began when I was 18 years old and was working a summer in Branson, MO and living with my aunt and uncle. I was working my first job. I was trying to come out of my shell and make friends, etc. It was so incredibly stressful for me, which now I understand is simply because I am an introvert (for the most part). I would have been better suited finding friends who enjoyed talking about literature and current events—but those are hard to find and I didn’t know at that time really who I was.

One day after work, I sat in the living room and I started eating Cadbury fruit and nut bites. Of course, I thought they were kind of healthy because they had fruit and nuts—ha. My aunt came home (she also has weight issues), and saw my pile of wrappers on the end table and asked me if I had eaten all of them.

I was shocked when I looked over and saw how many I had eaten. Probably 15 pieces or so. It was completely mindless. Maybe that’s why I felt like I needed it—it was like an escape from everything I was feeling. All I had to focus on was the rich, creamy chocolate melting in my mouth and sending my endorphins into overdrive. In those moments I felt better.

I remember shrugging it off and telling my aunt that it wasn’t a big deal. I believe she warned me about diabetes, something that she suffers from. But her attitude was judgmental and it hurt. I felt so much shame. After that, I would use one wrapper and crumple up the wrappers into little pieces and stick them inside the one wrapper so no one could see how many pieces I had actually eaten if they happened to see wrappers in the trash can. Now I see how that is disordered eating and probably considered bingeing.

Prior to those days, my drug of choice was anything that was junk food.

Middle school was incredibly stressful for me. Now I know that I have probably suffered from anxiety pretty much my entire life, but I didn’t know that then. Other kids made fun of me because I was larger than they were. I was awkward in my gym uniform and even less coordinated in sports. I hated changing clothes in the locker room. I hated putting on my swimsuit on my overweight body and having to swim with my entire class while we were in our swimming unit of the curriculum. I hated the laughs as the water splashed when I was required to jump off of the diving board. I was bullied by teachers. I could hardly fit in the small desks. I was painfully shy and would lose all train of thought if called upon in class, making me look like an idiot.

That’s a lot for a 13 year old.

I wouldn’t eat lunch at school because I was too embarrassed to eat in front of people. This meant I would be starving after school and usually have a headache. I would go home and eat anything I could find that wasn’t healthy.

I specifically remember a time when we had a guest at our house. I was sitting at the kitchen table eating and reading the comics from the newspaper—I yearned for this moment every day. I was eating an entire can of vegetable soup and eating bbq chips straight out of the bag.

I kept eating, and eating, and eating.

This guest took the bag of chips and closed it and put a clip on it, saying I had probably eaten enough. This made me angry and embarrassed. I reopened the bag and continued to eat them because well, she wasn’t the boss of me. But now I can see that she saw something that I was not able to see—disordered eating. I don’t know if she judged me for just eating too much, or if she really saw that I was eating for the wrong reasons. I don’t know. But I do know that it hurt. And I continued to feel ashamed.

These habits have never left me. When the going gets tough, I reach for food. When the mountain gets too steep, I stuff chocolate in my mouth. When I am sad, anxious, angry, stressed, or tired—I turn to food.

I have not talked about these events since the day they happened. I am doing a lot of introspection and am finally seeing the error of my ways and I want to change. Right now, I am just tracking what I am doing without really working through stopping myself quite yet. I want to figure out what’s triggering the eating first. I do use some self-control here and there, so it’s not like it’s a free for all. But I know my signs and I know when I’m eating for the wrong reasons.

I’m not quite sure what the overall point of this post is, other than to just express and admit some of my issues with emotional eating. There are so many emotions attached to food and it’s unhealthy for me. I hope that somehow I can get to the bottom of this and learn how to cope in a healthier way.

 

Can you relate to my eating issues? What has been your experience?

My Journey: Therapy for my Emotional Eating Habit

A few years ago, the thought of talking to someone about my emotional eating tendencies would have scared me enough that I would have never considered it. And I never did, until now.

I hit rock bottom this year, thanks to postpartum depression. Because of that, I was more than willing to go to therapy to work through my emotions and learn the coping skills that I so desperately needed to simply function and overcome the anxiety that I had developed. I’ve made a lot of progress, but I still haven’t completely recovered. It’s a process that takes time and a lot of work.

I had a therapy session yesterday where we talked about how I feel like my hubby and baby girl deserve someone much better than me. It was the hardest session that I’ve had yet and it made me realize how deeply I have shoved my emotions into my heart.

We focused on how I feel like my hubby deserves a woman who has it more together. Someone who doesn’t have all of my issues. Someone who is fit, thin, and beautiful. Someone the opposite of me. And once again, it all came down to  poor body image, intense feelings of shame & guilt, and not loving & accepting myself.

We talked about my pregnancy and how I never really got to enjoy it because I was always worried about my weight and felt like I was ugly & huge. I never got to experience really having a “baby bump” because I already had a plump figure. No one could even tell that I was pregnant—it just looked like I was getting fatter and fatter.

I told her about something my doctor did to me in the last few weeks of pregnancy and the emotions and shame swept over me like it had just happened again. I sobbed. My heart is still broken over that and I never took the time to heal and come to terms with the experience, which is why I still feel the pain of it so strongly. I feel like it is finally time to blog about that experience so that I can finally heal. I’ll share that when I have the time & gain the courage.

It all came down to my weight, my negative body image, and my negative self image—once again. And I believe that may be the root of my problem. I don’t love myself. I absolutely hate myself. That didn’t just happen over night but it has been a lifelong accumulation of negative self talk, and believing what any person said about me like it was the gospel truth. It’s because of a lack of confidence. It’s a feeling of unworthiness.

My therapist seems fairly religious and I am thankful for that because she brings insight into how God might view my situation. Her thoughts cause me to think differently about my experiences and it helps to spin a more positive light on my situation.

My biggest take away from this appointment was that God created me and He knows that I am not perfect and that I will never be perfect. But if I am living my life trying to become what would please God, then that is enough. He loves me, despite the fact that I am imperfect.

Maybe I don’t have the perfect body and I struggle with my weight. Maybe I have postpartum depression. Maybe I am not perfect. But because of these physical & emotional imperfections, great things have been done in my heart.

If was had been born with a perfect body and no eating issues, I would never have been able to understand what it’s like to be bullied & belittled and maybe I would never have had the empathy that I have now. I never would have needed this blog as an outlet. Perhaps the entire course of my life would have changed, and quite honestly—I have a pretty good life the way it is.

Life may have been a lot less complicated and easier if I had not been predisposed to postpartum depression. But if it had never happened, the restoration that is occurring in my heart and soul would never have happened. Once again, it has helped me to have empathy and compassion for others.  It has caused me to seek out God more earnestly. The experience has improved my marriage and brought us even closer together. And it is because of this experience that I am even beginning this journey of therapy to address the issues that have lead to my weight problem.

How can I have shame about my perceived imperfections when these are the very tools which have molded me into who I am?

How can I expect to attain perfection when God has created me knowing that I will be imperfect, and yet loves me anyway?

These questions are like the effect of the warmth of the rising sun on a densely foggy morning—they dissipate the fears and bring clarity to the distant horizon. It’s a start. I can see my goal, but the road to get there is still long and winding.

My mission for the next couple of weeks is to begin to track my emotions when I “go off track” or when I am eating for reasons other than hunger. I stopped at Target and bought a little notebook that I will keep in my purse. And wouldn’t you know that my first entry is: ate a chocolate chip cookie from Starbucks because I was emotionally drained after therapy.

It is amazing how physically draining emotions can be. After the appointment, I never did get my energy back. I spent the rest of the evening just taking it easy. I feel better after a good night’s sleep.

This was my first therapy session where we discussed how I need help with the psychological reasons of why I am overweight. She told me this is something that we can work on. And that gives me hope. By journaling, she believes this will bring insight into why I am overeating, etc. and then we can go from there.

And so this is only the beginning.

The Rollercoaster of Postpartum Depression

I have felt a little bit “off” since sometime last week. It has kind of been a rollercoaster of sorts. It got the worst Saturday night and so I spent all day on Sunday resting as much as I could. I actually took two naps that day and thankfully hubby picked up the slack for me. I guess it’s going to take a really long time to fully recover from PPD. Supposedly, the longer you wait to get help the longer it will take to fully recover. I waited too long!

There are so many ups and downs. At the beginning of last week I felt amazing. I was highly productive and feeling like myself. Towards the very end of the week it all started to fall apart. The first sign is that I’m not keeping up with the housework or the laundry. And somehow every single time I never correlate the two when I’m in the midst of it. Instead, I just feel like my environment is completely out of my control and it overwhelms me even more yet I can’t find the energy to get the needed tasks done. Anyone who has had depression can probably relate to this.

I finally went to see my counselor again on Thursday. I know that I should probably go more consistently and more often because apparently I still need a lot of help. I feel like I spent most of the time telling her how I feel and my concerns for an upcoming event. We discussed how something triggered a relapse for about three weeks (the stressful appointment at my psychiatrist) and how I want to learn how to avoid that in the future.

It is absolutely horrible when somehow my brain tells me that it’d be easier if I wasn’t around, or that my husband and daughter deserve someone much better than me, or knowing that I have everything I’ve ever wanted but yet feeling like I just want to die. These thoughts aren’t like the “real” me. I’m an optimistic and hopeful person, but somehow this horrible illness does this to me. And it makes me feel utterly out of control even though they’re my own thoughts…it’s so hard to explain.

My counselor told me that if I ever feel like that again (it’s not the first time) that I need to call her office and ask to be added to her wait list so that I can get in to see her as soon as someone cancels. That is good to know because sometimes it’s hard for me to remember what was going on in my head during the experience when I’m past it and feeling much better.

I still have thoughts that I thought were normal until I start telling my counselor about them, or even tell someone else about them. I feel so much guilt about pretty much everything, and especially as it concerns being a parent. I still feel like everyone in the world is looking at me and judging me. I have improved to the point where I don’t often let it stop me from going out in public (except when it’s really bad), but the thoughts are still there and I think that eventually it just all adds up and I completely fall apart.

I keep snacks in my purse for the little one for when we’re out and about—it’s really just entertainment to keep her from having a melt down while I’m getting groceries, for example. I feel like everyone judges me as a bad mother because she’s not eating something like fruits or veggies. She might be eating Annie’s bunnies, Cheerios, or animal crackers because they’re convenient and no, she doesn’t eat them all of the time—but I feel like a bad mother. I have a lot of hang-ups about myself and body image and I am sure this is why I feel so bad about these issues.

Many have reassured me that toddlers act out, but I still feel like I’m a horrible parent when she does this in public. I feel like I should be able to handle it better or prevent it from happening. Maybe it’s feeling like I have a lack of control in general. My counselor told me that people are not meant to be completely controlled and a toddler will do what a toddler will do and it’s completely normal for a toddler to act out and is not a reflection on me—but yet I feel like it is.

I feel guilty because I still haven’t worked up the confidence or the energy to take the little one to an activity where she can interact with other toddlers. It takes everything I have sometimes just to take her outside and let her run around. I hate feeling like that! For a while I was doing so well, taking her to the pool, to various parks, to the library, going for walks, etc. But then something happens that triggers the depression symptoms and I’ll take a few steps back again. I am afraid I am failing her in not providing enough experiences.

My husband reminds me that he never had play dates and come to think of it, neither did I and I think we both turned out ok…well maybe. (ha) I just want what’s best for her and it frustrates me when I don’t have the energy or state of mind to do the things that I want to do with her. We have lots of play time at home, read books, etc. I just hope my love is enough!

Last night, even my dreams were filled with anxiety. I remember telling myself to breathe deeply in my dream as I kept panicking. It’s like my entire being becomes affected, even in the state of unconscious sleep. When it starts to get bad, I start to feel like my body is buzzing, my eyes feel heavy, I’m tense, and all I really want to do is stay in bed all day (or for a lifetime)—but of course I can’t.

Anyways, I’ve been doing what I can. I’m looking for the triggers. I’m resting when I need to because that seems to be the only cure for me. The counselor says that’s a good choice because many people turn to alcohol in those situations. (Eek!) And so, I’m hoping that instead of plunging into weeks of depression that instead I will just have moments or days where I feel like that.

It’s hard to be patient with myself when I have goals that I want to meet in so many different areas of my life. The good news is that I am on track with my points. I quit tracking on Saturday and of course that leads me to feeling even more out of control. Yesterday I went back and tracked everything I had eaten and realized that I was doing just fine—what a relief!

I guess this post turned into a long rambling one!

Is there anyone else out there recovering from postpartum depression or depression of any kind? How are you doing?