The Potato Incident

I feel asleep this afternoon in the middle of my living room floor, sprawled on the carpet. I had intended to rest my eyes for just a minute, and instead woke up forty-five minutes later. The world when I awoke looked different; my breath was slow and easy again... imagine! After a catnap in the sun. On the carpet, nonetheless!

I have had a bumpy day. There was less struggle than yesterday, but more emotion and "real life" to endure. I got annoyed at work because I had to finish a bunch of small tasks left undone by the morning's crew, and I was running desperately low on patience with one of our new members, who cannot get it together to roast his potatoes fast enough. These are typical emotions - I am sure of it - but every thing these days feels like a threat to the small recovering bird inside me that I am so trying so desperately to protect.

For example, let's take what I'll call "the potato incident." I needed the oven today by 2PM to finish baking my pizzas and get done with work. I can't use the oven if it is full of stupid Yukon potatoes being roasted by our newest member for tomorrow's pizza. I've talked to the "potato man" every Tuesday for six weeks, but it's the same thing... he's slow, and gets distracted, and before I know it, I'm stuck waiting for him to finish the damn potatoes (or onions, or beets, or whatever) and my schedule gets all screwed up.

Bleh. The best version of myself laughs at this, because I remember what it's like to be new and slow in the kitchen. I try desperately to practice empathy and patience, but some days, I just can't take it anymore.

So today. Potato man was still in the oven, and I needed to start baking my pizzas. I started to stress, and felt the familiar twinge of anxiety start in my right shoulder. It moved fast to my temples, and before I knew it, I was deep in a tailspin of worry about what I had eaten, how I had acted, and if I'd done a good enough job on the stupid pizzas. I needed to escape, I wanted to escape, and the only thing I could think about is how full I felt from having eaten my lunch.

Then the anorexic panic came, like clockwork. First, it's just something like potatoes... but then it's anxiety, and overwhelming fullness, and finally - panic. I start to play games in my head about how to skip my next snack, postpone drinking my Ensure, put off or avoid dinner...

This afternoon, before I knew it, I was knee-deep in panic and wanted to run away from it all - the bakery, this process, my little apartment full of recovery books... I couldn't feel anything except for unrelenting fullness. Within five minutes, I had myself convinced that I had overeaten all day and that I was an indulgent pig and bitch for not having more patience for my coworker.

Eventually, the potatoes came out and my pizzas got their time in the limelight. I finished work on time, but still felt overwhelmed, nervous, and out of control. Driving home, I felt my body expanding, my ugly thighs pressed against each other as a sick symbol of my loss of self control. "This is what happens when you eat," I thought. "Everything spins out of control - look at yourself. Where is your discipline? Where is your patience?"

The situation seemed unbearable - absolutely intolerable. And instead of thinking, "DAMN POTATO MAN!" my brain fixated on my swollen body. I arrived home exhausted and overwhelmed, feeling simultaneously hungry and too full to eat a thing. I couldn't decide what to eat, or how to manage swallowing an Ensure. All I wanted to do was be in control of my life again.

To be in control, I'm accustomed to practicing intense discipline and taking action. But today, I was too tired for discipline. This fight is wearing me out. I couldn't see straight... I was tired and confused and wanted to seize control but didn't want to sacrifice the steps I've been taking towards recovery. So, I laid down on the floor and said out loud, "I can't do this by myself. Help me. Please."

Forty-five minutes later, I awoke bathed in warm spring sunshine. And truly, the world looked different. I had no more control, but had rested enough to find some perspective. After all, everything in hindsight is just small potatoes. And those don't take long to roast at all.

It was incredible how much more free I felt - I still was too stressed to plan for dinner, but I managed to drink an Ensure, eat some yogurt, and talk to a friend. Then, I was off to group therapy, where I was expecting more breakthroughs and helpful tools. Instead, I was unimpressed, and ended up in a whirl of panic because I was so worried about not doing this process in the "right" way. I didn't want to eat dinner, but I heated some leftovers and ran off to this small coffeehouse - my little sanctuary where I can push out the crap I'm obsessing about and deal with my day in the only sane way I can imagine at this point: writing.

Maybe I just need another catnap, to awake with a new mind and a better view. The world always looks different when we get out of it for a minute or two... I have to remember that things are not permanent and that my emotions, feelings, and sensations will pass. This too shall pass. Hunger passes. Fullness passes. Even panic. I'm not good at sitting through things right now, but today I "slept" through some big feelings and rode a wave without constructing a new diet, eating and purging, or going running. It was a small victory in the sun, for which I am extremely grateful.