Anger = Food
The last couple of weeks in therapy Laura and I have been talking about anger. I don’t think anyone who knows me - or even those who don’t - would consider me an angry person. I laugh too much. But I think it is true. What am I angry about? Well a whole host of things - too numerous to mention. But anger leads to unhappiness leads to depression leads to eating. Anger leads to fear leads to unhappiness leads to eating.
I’m not the volatile angry person you think of. I’ve never done a Mel Gibson style rant - but wouldn’t it be nice if I could? Just once. The thing is, I’ve been a target of anger as a child. It’s not just fight or flight, it’s paralysis. That was my response to danger. Just stand there cowering. I couldn’t talk back because that would only make things worse so I just stood there and took it.
My inability to be angry has its roots there. And now, when I do get angry, I don’t know how to handle it and it scares me and so I just wish it all away and don’t deal with it. Perfect example, my car. It was in the shop for 3 ½ weeks - far too long. And it pissed me off - but what did I do? Not much, really. I bitched and moaned on here - fat lot of good that did me. But I wouldn’t confront the mechanic because I was scared of his response - see that’s it - I was always (and to some extent, still am) scared about my mother’s response and so I don’t deal with issues. I just let them go.
Yesterday I got my car back. I’m not sure it’s 100% but I don’t want to go back because he’ll think I’m an idiot and since I can’t really quantify what’s wrong I don’t think he’ll believe me. I should just go back and fuck it but I just want it to be over. See, anger and fear.
Yesterday I did some grocery shopping and bought a box of Sociables crackers, tonic water, and a pint of strawberry sorbet. I made myself a g&t, ate nearly the whole box of crackers, and then the pint of sorbet. See, eating crap and eating it to excess. When I look at myself in the mirror I’m so unhappy with what I see - and it’s one of those “skinny” mirrors.
I was thinking this morning before I got out of bed that next month will be 10 years that I first went to the nutritionist. I weighed 240 and with her help began to lose weight - a total of 90 pounds. Well, I’ve put half that back. And I hate how I look and how I feel. But I can’t stop eating. I can’t access the anger that’s buried so deep inside me.
Fuck.
