There's an app(etizer) for that!

My name is Alana and I'm an emotional eater, I'm a social eater, I'm a situational eater, and I eat for pleasure. I eat when I'm angry, when I'm sad, when I'm alone, when I'm lonely, and when I just need to sink my teeth into something delicious. Sure, I do eat when I'm hungry, like most everyone does, but unlike everyone else I rarely stop there and that's why it has become a problem.

I say this not only to parallel other addictions that people quite readily recognize, but also because I had a bad slip up last weekend that was nothing if not an emotional outlet through the use of food. I realize it's probably not that big of a deal (who didn't eat a bit too much last weekend?), but I was mind-reeling over so many other things and it felt like such a huge slight that no one in my family had told me they were having an Easter get-together (my dad didn't even call to wish me a "Happy Easter"). Thus it became another moment when food was there for me when I couldn't call anyone or talk to anyone.

For every kind of situation, whether happiness or hurt or frustration, I have a food that helps keep me company somehow and that's fairly constant. I think the only thing I crave more than food is a constant good, healthy relationship. Food is what seems to help me more than people because it's always there -- I don't have to hope and pray that it won't be too busy for me, too rushed, not paying attention, not listening, not caring. I don't have to stare at my phone for 25 minutes, scrolling through my list of contacts, wondering who would actually answer and care to hear about my ridiculous mental meltdown(s), only to come down to ... no one.

When I choose to eat, there's always something for me to commiserate with, to cry into, to snarl at, or even to celebrate the silly little things that no one else cares about celebrating. And, let's face it, there's a reason it's called "comfort food." When I reach the bottom of the bucket, the bag, the pan, I can always make more or find something to fill the "new" void; however, if I call someone and they can't talk or don't answer, there's not a bottomless list of possibilities. Food doesn't reject me, if anything I'm the one who gets to reject food.

That's how I assert control in my uncontrollable life and... it's totally wrong. I know that, but just because I KNOW that doesn't mean I can snap my fingers and tell myself to let go of the one thing I feel like I get a say in these days. If I do that, what then? To suddenly stop letting food be the comfort, the crutch, the one I call, I have to have something else to funnel myself onto because I know I am not in a position (mentally/physically/geographically) to just let it all go. In saying that, I do realize that I'm no longer in control of what I eat -- it's in control of me -- but I've known that this whole time I've been writing here or otherwise I wouldn't be writing here.

It's here I am starting to understand that I am scared out of my mind because food is the only thing that I let fill the emptiness inside me and it's coming nowhere close to doing what I'd thought it would and that's why I keep eating and eating and eating. Even though it doesn't "fill the emptiness" in all the ways I wish it would, it comes closer than anything (read: anyone) else. This is my fault, I know, because I'm too afraid to let anyone in right now. I feel like I should be "full" and whole and complete on my own before I ask someone to be a part of my life, otherwise I'll be trading my fixation with food for what could only ever be a short-term (unhealthy, obsessive, needy/clingy, messed up) "relationship" that would undoubtedly leave me emptier than before...

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Right now, on the verge of major tears, I feel so hollow in the worst of ways. I want to eat to take my mind off it, but I also just want to cry and curl away into some other place and time.

I need an overly-long hug from a calories-not-included friend and a solid shoulder to cry on.

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"I know God will not give me anything I can't handle. I just wish that he didn't trust me so much."

[Mother Teresa]

This is some heavy stuff!

A goal I have for myself is to look in the mirror, look into my own eyes, and not feel completely ashamed or begin berating myself for any of a slew of self-ascribed inadequacies. Some days I can do this much more easily than others, but it takes quite a bit of coaching. It's a gratifying moment, though, when I close my eyes and open them again to see a small semi-confident smile on my face.

Despite this goal and the effort I've taken to get there, part of me believes it isn't right for me to be as confident as I have been in days past, while another part of me suspects (or knows?) that it's mostly false bravado. I'm not entirely sure that I've gotten more confident because I think I've just become a better actress -- go figure!

The reason I mention this is because earlier this week I, quite fittingly, stumbled upon a new show featured on A&E, "Heavy," and I admit that in the beginning I was interested only very superficially, but the more I watched the more I realized that every word these people were saying about themselves and their Food Relationships completely fit how I felt. Sure, I don't weigh 400 pounds, but they weren't always so heavy, either. It has to start somewhere and I really think that this could be the "somewhere" for me if something doesn't change soon.

It also caught my attention when, in the second episode, a younger girl (26 years old -- just two-and-a-half years older than I am) was on the show and I could see myself standing in her shoes given a couple of years. She talked about how she acts more confident and upbeat than she really feels so that people won't see her "weakness." She also has an alcohol problem and I know I don't have an alcohol problem (not to the degree she does, anyway), but it doesn't seem to be a coincidence that in the past 3 months I've drank more than I ever have in my entire life...

Two other things really caught my attention about this show: the "enablers" and the people who spot the problem. My life is full of the "enablers," or, as I call them, my family. My family is almost entirely overweight and/or obese people, especially on my dad's side. When our family gets together it's very food-centric and it's incredibly obvious why we all have weight problems! The fact that I'm overweight, then, is not seen as anything out of the ordinary and so no one in my family is going to sit me down and say, "Alana, we've noticed that your eating has gotten out of hand and we'd like to help you get back on track to a healthier lifestyle." In order for THAT to happen they'd have to get their own lives back on track and I just don't see that happening for them because they are so acceptant of it. Overweight is just... how we are, apparently.

Except... it's not how I want to be. I want to be strong enough to resist the temptation my "enablers" throw in front of me holiday after holiday. The thing is, I also want someone to say, "Alana, we've noticed that your eating has gotten out of hand and we'd like to help you get back on track to a healthier lifestyle." I need someone to support me, to notice the fact that I've gained 25 pounds in less than year, to care enough about me to step in and help me navigate through all this "stuff." I don't need someone to say, "Why don't you just go to the gym and lose the weight?" because that's literally like telling someone who is anorexic, "Hey, why don't you just eat something and get over it?" It's a lot more complicated than that in so many ways.

Yes, going to the gym would be a huge step in the right direction, but I am so scared to take that step alone because in the past when I've taken that step alone I failed. I cannot fail again. It's also not the only step that needs to be taken and I need someone to keep me motivated, optimistic, and on the right path. I need someone who truly understands how complicated and deeply-driven these problems are for me, someone who will talk with me without being disgusted and/or appalled when or if I lapse into another binge.

I'm not sure that I have that support though, which is another reason why I'm here. It looks as though I have to be my own support system for a while, or at least until I get away from the "enablers" and find someone who doesn't scoff at obesity or belittle my problem(s) with food. Of course, in order to find that person who will support me, I've got to be willing to share all this with people, but this is just about the most humiliating kind of (heart-breaking, soul-crushing) problem to have to share with anyone and, let's be honest, no one likes to see fat people cry...

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"It's not who you are that holds you back, it's who you think you're not."

[Author Unknown]