Off Track Navigation
I am disgusted with myself for perhaps the first time since I’ve regained the 65+ pounds. The binge upon which I embarked beginning Sunday night has been the most destructive binge I’ve foisted on myself in a very long time. It has been unpleasant. It has been painful. It has released me only to recapture me again. I have become a mouse being toyed with by a very shrewd cat.
I thought I’d gotten past the binge Tuesday afternoon only to have it ensnare me again after Matt and I returned from a night out in The City. Technically it was already Wednesday morning. After a decent night’s sleep, I was back on track, an achievement of some note. By nightfall I’d quietly slipped into further binging. The only thing that put a lid on it was my bloat from previous binging. Yesterday (Thursday) afternoon, after a healthful lunch that left me full, I again got on the starting line for another binge with a 650 gram hunk of watermelon. The 4 point price tag left me with minimal points for the evening. More importantly, as always, I wanted to keep on eating. I fought the urge until dinner after which I had 2 points remaining. When I’ve been careful with my use of points, I can enjoy a high point dessert and still remain on track. Last night the craving for ice cream topped rice cakes hit me with a vengeance. I munched on an apple instead. The craving lost none of its power. I told myself my usual lies, then snatched an early bed time without giving in to them. I fell asleep with an unspent point. Thursday is now thankfully behind me. I’m well into my second on track day.
Having written this, I want to write about a metaphor that helped me to contain a binge when I was at Ben and Wendy’s last week. It comes from a comment that Twice the Man made regarding my previous post about binge triggers. “It is easy to drive a car on a clear day,” he wrote, “but a pain to drive it on an ice covered road. Environment makes control easier or harder.”
I thought about this as I sat on a rock gazing at a river in the hills near Santa Cruz last Friday. Rachael and I had gone for a short hike. She was swimming and playing on the rocks. I envisioned driving through mud, negotiating my way on unpaved roads, maintaining control in difficult circumstances. As I did this, I realized that a missing element during my binges is time. At a gut level, time stands still for me when I binge. I’m in no-time where calories become meaningless or at least less weighty than in real time. The momentum of the binge is circular and conducive only to repetitive behavior. The only escape is to move forward, but the dynamics of the binge keep me trapped.
I thought about the dynamics of the river. Sometimes, as the river flows downward, the hydraulics of the water can cause the current to reverse itself, producing a churning motion. Kayakers call this a hole. Those with the skill can surf the hole. Those who don’t have the skill and haven’t managed to avoid the hole may find themselves taking an involuntary swim. Or they might find themselves caught in hydraulics that won’t let them go. Sometimes the force of the river slams against a rock. A kayaker who hasn’t steered clear of the rock may find himself and his boat trapped against it. It is hard to fight against the full force of the river.
The river moves forward whether or not I’m bonded to a rock. When I capsize, it maintains its forward motion. Even if I find myself at the mercy of merciless currents, it will not stop for me. Eventually I may succumb to the river. It’s current may pull me under and I may lack the skill and energy to bring myself up again. Forward motion will have become irrelevant to me.
The metaphor of the river ends with that fatal moment. Even the most destructive of my binges is highly unlikely to have such a dramatic consequence. Even when the power of the binge feels like it will overwhelm me, I remain a creature of time. Even as I feel trapped and overpowered, I am still moving forward.
I am the river, the entire expanse of it as well as each molecule of which the river is made. I am the rocks and the river bed, the leaves that fall into it, the banks which contain it, the living creatures that make their home in it. I am its impediments, its forward motion and its power. Movement is my natural state.
I am a kayaker on the river. I joyfully confront its challenges with skill and with grace.
I thought I’d gotten past the binge Tuesday afternoon only to have it ensnare me again after Matt and I returned from a night out in The City. Technically it was already Wednesday morning. After a decent night’s sleep, I was back on track, an achievement of some note. By nightfall I’d quietly slipped into further binging. The only thing that put a lid on it was my bloat from previous binging. Yesterday (Thursday) afternoon, after a healthful lunch that left me full, I again got on the starting line for another binge with a 650 gram hunk of watermelon. The 4 point price tag left me with minimal points for the evening. More importantly, as always, I wanted to keep on eating. I fought the urge until dinner after which I had 2 points remaining. When I’ve been careful with my use of points, I can enjoy a high point dessert and still remain on track. Last night the craving for ice cream topped rice cakes hit me with a vengeance. I munched on an apple instead. The craving lost none of its power. I told myself my usual lies, then snatched an early bed time without giving in to them. I fell asleep with an unspent point. Thursday is now thankfully behind me. I’m well into my second on track day.
Having written this, I want to write about a metaphor that helped me to contain a binge when I was at Ben and Wendy’s last week. It comes from a comment that Twice the Man made regarding my previous post about binge triggers. “It is easy to drive a car on a clear day,” he wrote, “but a pain to drive it on an ice covered road. Environment makes control easier or harder.”
I thought about this as I sat on a rock gazing at a river in the hills near Santa Cruz last Friday. Rachael and I had gone for a short hike. She was swimming and playing on the rocks. I envisioned driving through mud, negotiating my way on unpaved roads, maintaining control in difficult circumstances. As I did this, I realized that a missing element during my binges is time. At a gut level, time stands still for me when I binge. I’m in no-time where calories become meaningless or at least less weighty than in real time. The momentum of the binge is circular and conducive only to repetitive behavior. The only escape is to move forward, but the dynamics of the binge keep me trapped.
I thought about the dynamics of the river. Sometimes, as the river flows downward, the hydraulics of the water can cause the current to reverse itself, producing a churning motion. Kayakers call this a hole. Those with the skill can surf the hole. Those who don’t have the skill and haven’t managed to avoid the hole may find themselves taking an involuntary swim. Or they might find themselves caught in hydraulics that won’t let them go. Sometimes the force of the river slams against a rock. A kayaker who hasn’t steered clear of the rock may find himself and his boat trapped against it. It is hard to fight against the full force of the river.
The river moves forward whether or not I’m bonded to a rock. When I capsize, it maintains its forward motion. Even if I find myself at the mercy of merciless currents, it will not stop for me. Eventually I may succumb to the river. It’s current may pull me under and I may lack the skill and energy to bring myself up again. Forward motion will have become irrelevant to me.
The metaphor of the river ends with that fatal moment. Even the most destructive of my binges is highly unlikely to have such a dramatic consequence. Even when the power of the binge feels like it will overwhelm me, I remain a creature of time. Even as I feel trapped and overpowered, I am still moving forward.
I am the river, the entire expanse of it as well as each molecule of which the river is made. I am the rocks and the river bed, the leaves that fall into it, the banks which contain it, the living creatures that make their home in it. I am its impediments, its forward motion and its power. Movement is my natural state.
I am a kayaker on the river. I joyfully confront its challenges with skill and with grace.
posted by ArleneWKW at 4:24 PM
5 Comments:
Metaphores are very helpful to help me understand why I do and what I do to myself. Binges happen to many of us. The weather will improve and so will you. I know this.
Beautifully put! The first time I went Kayaking I can remember facing down the rapids thinking how the hell am I gonna stay rightside up through that. It was a daunting task, but once I made it through the other side I was so elated and proud of myself.
I couldn't wait to conquer the rapids again.....only this time I was more eager than fearful to face them.
Your on your way through the rapids. Your getting banged around a bit, but your still afloat.
Keep paddling.
Wanting nothing with all your heart, stop the stream
When the world dissolves, everything becomes clear.
Go beyond this way or that way
To the farther shore where the world dissolves,
And everything becomes clear.
Beyond this shore and the farther shore,
Beyond the beyond,
Where there is no beginning, no end,
Without fear, go.
- Dhammapada
There's a couple of times I've seen you commenting on the idea that people will be fed up and disgusted with reading about your lack of progress and movements backwards, but a) this isn't true and b) even if it was, then it makes no difference.
It's extremely important that you write about when it goes wrong. One of the things I realised was that if I was to ever have a chance of getting my eating under control then I had to understand why I was overeating and binging.
Of course the problem with blind spots is that we're, well, blind to them. Very often the driving forces behind our behaviour are concealed from us and we can only discover them by implications from the shadows they casts, or distorted reflections.
Each time we write about the fact that it went wrong, we are exploring the options and sometimes we make a sudden break through. Sometimes we get an extra piece of the jigsaw that can helpto move us forward.
Sir Squishy made a wonderful point the other week when he noted that those who keep blogging about their progress come rain or shine tend to stick it out in the long run. I am convinced that this is because the more we write about it, the deeper our understanding of our own behaviour becomes. And every now an then we make another breakthrough in understanding our eating patterns.
Every time you pig out, every time you give in, every time you struggle, write it down. Write down what triggered it, write down the circumstances, write down your feelings. Over time new patterns will begin to emerge
Keep at it Arlene. You know you have our support no matter how many steps backwards you take.
This is not weight-watchers. There is no tutting from the sidelines here. Your blog is your place of self discovery and a place where others might gain insight into their own behaviours.
So long as you are exploring and pushing, you are not failing. You are moving forward.
Thanks, as always, for your comments and support.
Kim: I was going to hold off for a few more days before posting. You motivated me to write something today.
Spider63: That's beautiful!
Sir Squishy: You make me realize that I'd like to actually be facing the rapids again. I found myself to be a significantly better kayaker at 127 than 65 pounds heavier. I'll holding off until next summer get beyond the metaphor and into the water.
TTM: I am, sometimes, also the weather. Once I start the binge, I add to the storm, fog, ice. I'm my own impediment. Which, I know you know. I'm glad you introduced the metaphor to this blog.
Post a Comment
<< Home