Circles

Hello, my name is Anna. And, I am a compulsive overeater.

I returned from my travels abroad in the spring of 2011 with a renewed enthusiasm to immerse myself back into the health and wellness field, both in my career aspirations and for my own personal health reasons. I soon found employment at a local health club (See “BackgroundCheck”) and within the bubble of the fitness center, surrounded by gym junkies, and other “health nuts,” I felt hopeful that I could refill my empty tank through focused attention on my nutrition and fitness.

And yet, despite my growing love and passion for all things wellness-related, I never felt completely convinced that what I was doing to achieve my health and fitness goals was sustainable. I felt desperate – putting faith into fitness and nutrition tips from “Shape” or “Health” magazine. The scale became my god as I religiously weighed-in several times a week, sometimes multiple times a day. And, though I saw what I conceived as weight loss “success” during those initial few months, I was no where near satisfied. I scrutinized my body in the shower and in the mirror and thought, “I must do better.”

At the same time, I was falling into a self-sabotaging cycle. Monday through Friday, I planned my meals, scheduled my exercise, and, frankly, worked my ass off doing what I thought I should be doing to see results at my next weigh-in. But, when the weekend hit, all bets were off. I drank, I binged, I slept. Saturday and Sunday meant coming up for air from the depths of the Certainty Sea, gulping and consuming for 48 hours, before submerging myself back into it's quiet, seemingly more peaceful, routine waters.

Photo Credit: Forty-Second Chance

Monday became my Restart Day. Every week. My frustration with myself and my obvious lack of willpower began to build, higher and higher, until it became as rickety as a Jenga tower. I had this strong sense that my relationship with food and exercise at that point was very precarious. And despite my deep desire to WANT to be loving and kind to my body, I felt as though the weekends were a constant and regular reminder that I was weak and destined for failure. I loathed the extra fat on my body, as it was a tangible reminder to me that I could not control my cravings or my excessive eating. I had an impossible time forgiving myself when I felt I was the only one to blame.

My eating was out of control. So, that spring I tried a 7-day juice fast. No solid food, only juice, for one full week. I had recently watched “Fat, Sick, and Nearly Dead” and thought, “Dang, I can do that!” For the first 3-4 days, the liquid cleanse actually felt freeing. I didn't need to fret about eating too much because I literally drank ever single one of my meals. Yet, despite the book's claim to feel energized and practically euphoric at the conclusion of the cleanse, by day 6 & 7, I found myself completely drained, extraordinarily grumpy, and wholly pissed off at the world. At that point, the weight I had “lost” didn't even matter. I couldn't wait to eat - chew something! But, I was determined not to quit, and completed the 7-day juice fast in its entirety. That's the thing about compulsive eaters. We actually have an enormous amount of willpower when we set our minds to something. But, it rarely lasts, especially when extreme diets are involved. I began the 7-day juice fast with the intention of doing something healthy and loving for my body, and I came out with a lesson learned – I started to suspect that my relationship with eating and consuming certain foods was not normal. And that really freaked me out.

At that point, I didn't really know what to do. So, I just reverted back to my weekday ON and weekends OFF cycle for a couple months. Then summer hit. And, with another serge of renewed motivation after a weekend binge, I came up with a brilliant plan. I created my own challenge, my own program for accountability. I set up the “Final 20 Challenge” with a goal to lose 20 lbs in 3 months and reach my ultimate goal of 155lbs. I created a blog, drafted an email to family and friends, and requested their support and participation in my journey. I saw this set up as failproof. As a weight loss coach who outwardly lived and breathed health, fitness, and wellness, it would be a momentous embarrassment to not reach this very attainable goal. Plus, I invited friends and family to sponsor me financially. If I reached my goal, they would pay me the amount they pledged. If I didn't, I would pay them the same amount. And, if they picked a fitness or weight loss goal and achieved it along with me, it would cancel out the pledge, thus being a win-win for both of us.

The Final 20 Challenge blog, posts and pictures are still viewable today. But, it's not a source of major pride for me, even though I did, in fact, end up reaching my goal. The truth was, I didn't get truly serious about the challenge until about 6 weeks prior to the deadline. So, what I had initially intended to be a healthy, gradual weight loss over the course of 12 weeks, turned into a frantic and hugely stressful period of taking my weight loss tactics to even greater extremes. I consumed diet pills, took Epsom salt baths and long saunas, committed to twice daily workouts and even tapered my water intake during the final 2 weeks. These were all “health tips” I learned from friends or found on websites devoted to cutting weight for body builders and/or wrestlers. With three days left before my challenge end date, I hit my goal.

I still remember the shower I took that morning. I was shocked and saddened to notice how my breasts sagged, no longer round and plump for lack of hydration and fat. Seeing “155” on the scale had given me this overwhelming sense of relief when I finally gave myself permission to stop the crazy obsessiveness from continuing to consume me. I had taken my body to an extreme that I knew was a far cry from loving and healthy. I had reached a point of severe desperation, clinging to a challenge and the stress of a deadline to force my body to become what I thought I really wanted; what I thought would make me truly happy. I was seeking fulfillment in something that, in the end, still left me feeling empty and wholly depleted.

I was, slowly but surely, realizing that no amount of food was going to satisfy the hunger I continued to feel. I felt really lost. I was beginning to wonder if this terrifying cycle of self-destruction was an inevitable part of my future. But, even as the thoughts passed through my mind, I couldn't seem to believe that to be true. We are all destined for greatness, in some way, shape or form. That I truly believed. And, with that glimmer of hope, I went looking for the road home.

Photo Credit: Kinja