Real Recovery from Bulimia & Binge Eating

Cycle on loss

I did a cycle tonight on my inability to cope with loss. Remember cycles? It’s been awhile. For people unfamiliar with Laurel Mellin, she basically teaches people how to balance self-discipline with self-nurturing. I think this works really well for bulimics because we tend to swing wildly between over-discipline and over-nurturing (over the top indulgence to soothe ourselves).

You can check out my old ones below, in chronological order.

I used Laurel Mellin's stuff today! (9/3/06)

Getting unstuck - what do I really want? (9/17/06)

Major cycle on my "value" and worthiness for healthy meals (9/19/06)

Cycle on people being mad at me or hating me (10/2/06)

Cycle on hopelessness (10/17/06)

I had begun going through coping.org’s section on Handling Loss, and although it was sad, I wasn’t learning anything new. I kept thinking that I DO know how to cope with loss – there must be something else, something deeper that is tripping me up right now. So, I pulled out my old cycle template, and just began to write. It’s amazing how the cycle started in one place and ended up in another. I had no idea that the reason I was so afraid of loss was that I had seen how just one significant loss completely trashed my parents’ lives. Of COURSE I became the master of loss avoidance! It seems so clear now, but I couldn’t have learned that without going through the cycle and just letting the emotion and the thoughts come out freely with no judgment and no censoring.

I’m posting the cycle in full here. My most sincere wish is that you begin to see the incredible power in them and that you one day decide to try it for yourself. Although I would VERY strongly suggest you read Laurel’s book in full before you try it. My first time, I jumped into it without finishing the book, and I ended up with my head in the fridge in a complete emotional wreck.

Here goes:

Thinking Journal: I’ve had a lot of loss in my life. Not really more than a lot of other people. But, a lot of loss very early when I shouldn’t have had to deal with it. And, even if I had to deal with it, it would have been nice if I had a role model for dealing well with loss. Or, maybe if someone could have actively helped me deal with it. Or, maybe if I saw someone actually DEAL with their loss rather than deny it or hide their pain or whatever emotions they had. My mom dealt with the loss of her marriage by drinking and by dropping out. She coped with cigarettes and sleep. My dad dealt with the loss of his marriage and his children by getting really, really angry. And mean. No one thought to help the children deal with the loss of a safe and quiet and peaceful home. No one helped the children deal with sudden loss of security: financial, emotional security and a consistent home. I never had a role model. I never learned how to cope with loss. I lost friends and pets, and I’m sure I cried. I remember my mom hugging me. But, I don’t remember ever talking about it. Have I been just pretending all along to deal with all this loss??

Which makes me sad . . . because I just don’t know if I actually dealt with any of it at all. I feel confused and worried and so damn sad. I have been crying and weepy for over a week for the tiniest little reasons. And, I don’t know what I need or how to make it better.

Which makes me scared . . . I’m scared that I’ve just been stuffing down my grief. How am I to know? I don’t know. But, I don’t think I’m just crying over that little dog anymore. I’m getting really freaked out. I’m scared that I know now how much fear of loss has really affected my decision making.

Which makes me sad . . . how could I have experienced all those losses and no one taught me how to deal with them?

I’m feel angry . . . I don’t feel angry.

I feel guilty . . . I don’t feel guilty.

Are my expectations reasonable? As a child, my expectations were that people just shrugged off painful losses. I also expected that significant loss will severely affect a person for the rest of their lives. Once you have a really severe loss, you’re life is probably going to go down the tubes. If you lose your marriage and partner, you’re going to become helpless and paralyzed and impoverished or you’re going to be so consumed with anger that your health, work, and later relationships pale in importance to that rage. I never fucking saw anybody DEAL. I just saw everyone completely crumble for the rest of their lives.

And that makes me angry . . . what the fuck was their problem?! Couldn’t they see that life is not supposed to be like that? Couldn’t they see that even though they lost something really important, there was still so much of really high value in life that was just slipping away?? How could they just let it all slip away and not do anything about it? Didn’t they value their children at all? Their happiness? Their security and safety in the world? How could they not realize how their inability to cope was teaching their kids some really bad fucking lessons about life? Why couldn’t they just get the fuck over it already?

Which makes me sad . . . that the failure of their marriage really did completely wreck them for life. My father recovered for a bit after my mom died. I guess he felt like a huge burden was lifted. I remember that he lost weight and he became much nicer. We ended up having a really nice relationship for 2 or 3 years. But, then something snapped in him again. I’ve recently begun to believe maybe he saw some of my mom’s old traits in me. After watching him so consumed with hatred toward her all my life, it’s not a stretch to see him feeling negative emotion toward me.

Now I feel guilty . . . I feel guilty that I never saw all this before. I feel guilty that I never comprehended just how derailing the failure of their marriage was. I feel guilty because I was very excited for them to divorce, because that meant no more screaming fights. But, I never thought for a moment that they might actually be sad about the divorce. I was very happy about it; surely they were too? I feel guilty that it never occurred to me that their life plan for a lifetime of happy marriage and family had so completely unraveled.

Which makes me sad . . . because once again, I’m angry with myself for not treating my mom better during our short time together and not seeing how sad she must have been. But I didn’t know how to reach out to my mother. More and more I understand there was nothing I could do to help her. People have to decide to get help and to learn how to cope all on their own. A child can never help her parents, how can a child have any skills to teach their parents? Children just learn all their parents’ dysfunctions. Then, they have to relearn later. My mom died when I was just 22. I’m just learning now how to live well now in my 30s. I didn’t have enough time.

Are my expectations reasonable? Yes, as a child I learned that a big loss can mess you up for life so you had better be very careful. Of course I learned to be terrified of death and divorce and having people get really mad at you.

What is a reasonable expectation now? A reasonable expectation is that I can do what my parents, sadly, never did: reach out and learn how to lose. I can learn. I can get help. I can learn to have even significant, heart-breaking, soul wrecking losses and go on to be happy and even joyful in time. I will not allow a big loss to wreck me or my life. I won’t allow it. I will go on to thrive and be happy and UNAFRAID no matter what happens. Loss is a part of life. It does NOT have to wreck a life.

What is the essential pain? The essential pain is that my parents’ lives were ruined by the inability to cope in a healthy way with a major loss. The essential pain is that I, too, probably have not dealt fully with all of my own losses in life. The essential pain is that my fear of loss and the subsequent effects have led me to make bad decisions – decisions that may have kept me safe from the risk of loss but that have keep me alone and isolated. And afraid. I may have lost out on a lot because of this fear and these irrational beliefs.

What is the earned reward? The earned reward is that I won’t have to be so afraid of losing in my life. The earned reward is that I can open my heart wider and to more people and things and experiences. I can love more and let down my guard more. I can handle the inevitable losses that we all face, plus perhaps some really unexpected and shocking losses, and never have to worry about ending up like my parents. I can make more decisions from my heart and not my fearful, irrational head. I can experience so much more of life than I ever dared to before.

Then, I stay on a roll with the good feelings:

I feel grateful . . . that I found Laurel Mellin’s stuff on cycles. I feel so grateful that I have all of you to motivate me to get better every day so that I can help you to get better every day. I feel so grateful that Todd is at the beach right now so I can wail and cry and yell all I want tonight. I feel grateful that I am going to work through this and be free of even more fear that I didn’t even know I was harboring so deeply. I am so thankful that I’m going to be free.

I feel happy . . . I feel happy that, even though I’m still bawling, I know that I’m on my way. I feel happy that I didn’t wait another day before I sat down and worked this cycle. I feel happy that I’ve finally got this all out in the open, where I can now debate and work with my fear of loss in a conscious, rational way. I feel happy that I’ve proven to myself that I will NEVER LET A LOSS DERAIL MY LIFE. AND, I NO LONGER HAVE TO BE AFRAID TO LOSE.

I feel secure . . . that I’m on my way to conquering this fear and finally learning how to cope in a healthy way with loss. I feel secure that everything is going to be just fine.

I feel proud . . . I feel proud that I decided to push myself to sit down and do this cycle, even though it would have been much easier to just turn the TV on, or even to reply to some blog emails. I feel proud I chose the most important activity this evening. I feel proud that I am a very capable and creative and spiritually growing individual – I am strong and getting stronger every day. I feel proud that I am creating a wonderful life with lots of love and courage and daring. I feel proud that I’m smiling and calm right now. Even though it’s been awhile, I did this cycle just right!

On learning to lose

I have no idea how to deal in an emotionally healthy way with loss.

I realized this over the past couple of days from my experience in “coping” with the death of my roommate’s dog, whom I loved very, very much, just over a week ago.

I had an unusually large of number of losses very early in my life, and that has always affected my decision-making. I know that and have always respected it. I HATE losing things and people (who doesn’t?). But, I just realized the extent to which I avoid opening my heart to new things and people because of this deep-rooted fear. It’s more than a fear – it’s an expectation. I have come to EXPECT that everything I love will be taken away from me at some point. So, in response, I keep the number of things and people that I love to a bare minimum.

You might say that I lost my father at age 4 when my parents divorced, and that really affected me. I’m sure it did to some extent, although I remember very clearly feeling wonderfully relieved that my father was moving out. He abused my mother (granted – she didn’t treat him so great either), and I was frightened of him.

But, I had other unusual losses: I lost 5 best friends to tragedy and family moves between the time I was in nursery school and 3^rd grade. And, we lost many beloved pets. I won’t go into details, although I remember each one and the love I had for each one: friend and pet. My mom clearly wasn’t the most emotionally healthy person in the world – it’s not a stretch to think that I never had any good instruction on handling loss. I probably picked up many of her bad responses to loss: paralysis and seeking numbing in any form.

My mother died when I was 22. My grandfather (who helped raised me like he was my father) died when I was 25 or so (granted, he was 88 when he went). Then, my sister died when I was 33.

I’m aware of some ways that this fear of loss affects my choices in life, and I think some of these ways are smart. I keep my material belongings to a bare minimum. I don’t like owning things because, like I said, they’re bound to be stolen or somehow wrecked. When I picked up and moved out to California 4.5 years ago, I was so proud of myself at how little I had to leave behind and lose. Everything else (except for my bike, which I shipped out) fit in my car and went with me. My fear of loss gave me the freedom to just pick up and go when I really wanted to. I still enjoy the knowledge I could still just pick up and go anytime, without much hassle or loss.

I also have no true best girlfriends. I have many girl friends, but none that I trust with much intimacy, and none who therefore trust me with much intimacy. I wouldn’t mourn much if any moved away or if I didn’t talk with any of them for years. On a superficial level, I think that’s a good, smart idea. Girlfriends move away, they get married, they have children. At some point, you lose priority in their lives. But, I suppose now that this is not the choice of my heart – it’s the choice of my fearful head. Maybe I could really enjoy a close relationship with another woman. This seems very remote to me now as my head is even now coming up with a whole list of reasons why I don’t need such friendships or that they’re actually a liability, but I’m going to have to explore it a bit more. My roommate has wonderful close relationships with many girlfriends. Our home has been filled with them since she lost her dog. Michelle hasn’t been alone for a moment in the last week (even over night), except for that first day when she couldn’t even get out of bed. I have generally preferred to mourn alone.

Lulu left a comment just today that I too quickly shut down my father when he reached out to me earlier this year. I feel very sure and comfortable that we are not meant to be a family. But, her comment is true: after so many years of on/off relationship with him, why would I open myself up again? He’s SURE to get angry with me and cut me off again. Even if he has changed (which he hasn’t), I probably wouldn’t reengage with him for the simple FEAR of losing him again, with all the subsequent confusion, pain, regret, anger, helplessness, etc. It’s much safer (much SMARTER, my head would tell me), to just stay away.

This week I’ve become increasingly aware of how this fear might be severely adversely affecting me. I have always kept up a bit of a wall with my boyfriends, which was fine for most of my life since I wasn’t in the healthiest of relationships prior to recovery. But, now it’s a problem. Todd & I had a fight a month or so ago, and my first automatic reaction was to just say, “fine, if you want to break up with me, just do it.” That completely shocked and scared Todd because breaking up was the last thing on his mind. But, it seemed to me the easiest response to the conflict – protect myself and run away. It’s funny, I got a comment from Lulu today telling me that she thinks I avoid conflict to my own detriment. I guess I do because conflict is very often a precursor to loss. If I run away and leave the situation, I retain control over the situation. If *I* make the choice to run away, I can avoid many of the awful symptoms of loss: powerlessness, helplessness, hopelessness.

Perhaps this is where my tendency to rage comes in. Anger helps protect me from other symptoms of loss: sadness, mourning, and regret. If I interpret a situation as untenable, that I had no other choice, it can never be my fault, can it?

Very interesting.

I have realized that, somehow, against my better judgment and all my careful planning and avoiding, I have made some BAD choices that have left me wide open to experiencing the worst kinds of loss: I adopted a dog that I love with all my heart, and I have fallen in love with a man who I want to be with for the rest of my life. Boy, those are some really bad choices for someone so frightened of loss. My roommate’s dog wasn’t even mine, but I see how much I opened my heart to him and got attached to having him in my life. Another really bad move.

I have eschewed dependency, but by loving so strongly, I AM now dependent on my dog and my boyfriend (and his dogs, too). That realization (even though it’s been only half conscious up until this blog posting) has shocked me and scared me witless.

God, I hate loss. But, I still have put myself in the position of facing some gut-wrenching, soul wrecking losses someday. It’s too late to run away. I’m in for the duration of the ride. I have no choice now but to figure out how to cope in a healthy way. I WILL lose again. We ALL will lose again. If the queen-master of loss-avoidance can’t seem to avoid it, you won’t be able to either. So, here is my next big challenge: to learn how to lose without losing my mind or soul.

And, perhaps, by learning to accept and cope with loss as being an unavoidable part of a full, fulfilling, and joyful life, I will learn how to live even more. I will be able to open my heart wider and to more people and things. I will open myself to even more love and joy. Let the work begin.

A tragedy

In the face of tragedy, a good mantra:

"Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference."

And, let go . . .