Sometimes you feel like a nut, sometimes you don't.

Seeing a friend blog made me realize that I had one.  Though I don't have many people who read this, if any.  It's therapeutic.
My weight loss journey is kind of at a stand still I would say.  I haven't had soda since my last blog, I'm quite proud of that.  However, I haven't done much in the way of working out.  As usual, I lost my motivation. 
Before I'll go on, I'll say that I'm about to discuss something that I really hesitated to discuss, some may be reading this for the first time, and if I don't know you very well, it may put some thoughts about me in your head.  If that's the case, oh well..what can I do.  I'm gonna bare my soul for me.  I need to talk to someone and the internet is sometimes the only one I feel like I can really bare myself to sometimes.
Anyway...
About a week ago I had a visit to Urgent Care.  I won't give all the details because frankly it's gross.  But lets say there was blood where I didn't think there should be blood, and in more than one place.  Now..Truth be told it was a tiny amount, and in the back of my mind I knew there was a LOGICAL explanation for it, and it wasn't an emergency, but I panicked.  When I got there in talking to the nurse, I was freaking out.  I was basically BEGGING for reassurance that I wasn't going to die.  That's when she picked up on the fact that I had some anxiety issues.  I used to think maybe I was a hypochondriac.  But it's really more of an issue than I had thought it was.  Of course, I was fine.  The little voice in my head that told me "It's only this.  No big deal." was correct.
I noticed a pattern.  Every time something happens.  If I throw up, or if I get sick..or If I get a little ache or pain or even indigestion, which is common for me as of late..I panic.  I jump to the conclusion that Death has come for me.  My time is near.  I realized that sometimes, I can't be calmed down and I make an unnecessary trip to Urgent Care because I need reassurance. 
So after the doctor told me I was fine, the nurse had sent a counselor in to talk to me.  I got a pamphlet about Anxiety disorders...and I read it, and it fit me.  She said I should talk to a therapist, and I figured, now that I have insurance, why not.
So I went in today to "Get my head shrunk".  As I walked down the florescent lit hallways I was plagued with guilt.  The hallway seemed so long.  "Am I crazy?" I asked myself.  "Am I nuts? What's wrong with me?  Is this what it's come to?" I felt a little bit of shame to tell the truth.  I looked around to make sure I didn't recognize anyone.  As I sat in the waiting room I watched the other people and how they acted. "I'm not like these people." I told myself.  "I don't NEED to be here.   I'm not one of them."
Before I knew it, the pager went off and I was introduced to my therapist.  We walked to her office, which was very peaceful.  She was quite obviously a big KISS fan judging by her room decor.

So we talked.  She asked me questions.  We talked about my childhood.  We talked about my anxiety and WHY I get it.  Then we talked about my weight..and in detail.  I was open.  I was honest.  I told things that I have kept to myself about why I eat.  I told her about counter productive behaviors that I've caught myself in, and that's when she told me that based on what I told her, I have a problem with binge eating.  This was an issue that ties into my anxiety because I eat not only when I'm bored..but when I'm stressed and anxious.  Now..Don't get me wrong.  I'm not some big pig that eats mountains of food.  But I have a tendency to space out while I eat..and while it's not often, sometimes it's an abnormal amount of food...and then I feel shame.  I feel shame even admitting it right now.  I can't tell you how horrified I am that people will see that I have this issue.
The doctor said she felt like she had heard enough to comfortably diagnose what my biggest problem is: I binge eat.  I eat my feelings.  I try to fill these holes with food.  Then I get anxiety that this counterproductive behavior will bring Thanatos to me.  (That's the Greek God of Death for those who don't know.)
That's me.  I do all these things, and then I lack the motivation to fix it...aside from quitting soda, which at this point doesn't mean shit to me.

I'm not going to lie.  Talking and opening up to someone felt really good.  It was nice to talk to someone who could help me realize what I'm doing.  My maternal grandmother was very overweight and died of a heart attack at 50..and it wasn't her first.  I don't want to be that.  I have a massive fear of death as it is, so I don't want to bring it before it needs to be here.   That is also something I will be talking about with the therapist. 

I have more appointments to talk more with a therapist, and to see a medical dietician who specializes in people like me.  They can try to fix me.  Perhaps I shouldn't have been so quick to judge the situation.  Maybe I can be free of these demons that I haven't been able to shake.  Maybe someday I can be "normal" and "healthy".  Maybe someday my friend Motivation will come and be a permanent part of my life.  I'm 30 years old, and I have one shot at life.  I don't want to leave the party before it's over.  Hopefully seeing someone about my eating disorder and my anxiety will help me.  Though I'm a bit ashamed of having an eating disorder, it felt good to know there is a name for it...if that makes sense?   It's nice to really talk to someone about it candidly and openly.  To say what I want about how I feel without filters.

Don't get me wrong.  I have some great friends.  There are about 3 people that I can really open up almost 100% to about my health literally any time of night or day.  It's amazing.  1 is related, 1 has known me since middle school, and 1 I've strangely never met face to face, but all of these people have been there for me during my freak outs.  I love these people, and all of my other friends who offer to talk to me, and even actively seek me out to make sure I'm okay. 

Though I have these people, there's still small parts that I can't open up about.  That's where the therapist comes in.  Maybe this blog is a practice run of opening up more.  I don't know.  Am I crazy? Can my "issues" be overcome? I certainly hope so.  I suppose only time will tell.