Hamster Attack

Hamster Attack
Pronunciation: ‘ham(p)-st&r &-’tak
Function: Noun

Definition: An anxiety attack centered around obsessive thoughts about food, size, weight, and related issues. Most often seen in those living with disordered eating patterns and diagnosed clinical eating disorders. Attacks are characterized by wandering around grocery stores endlessly but unable to buy and consume any food because of conflicting, obsessive thought patterns. Aggravated attacks will often end in tearful bouts of bingeing.

Derivation: Taken from the common practice of hamsters running in exercise wheels; this image being similar to the self-perpetuating thought cycle often associated with disordered eating.

Hamster Attacks are the worst. When my brain starts on a Hamster Attack it seems like food is the only thing that will stop the spinning, but food is also what I view to be the cause of so many problems. Eating makes me feel better (coping mechanism), but eating is also what makes me fat (and consequently, gross, ugly, ashamed, etc.) A Hamster Attack is totally draining. It goes something like this:

[Starts @ Home]

Okay, my food plan say I can have a snack now. I can have a handful of cherries.
I don’t want a handful of cherries. I want something else.
I want to eat. I don’t want cherries. What can I have?
I don’t want what’s in the fridge.
I don’t want what’s in the pantry.
I don’t know what I want.
I want to eat.
I want something desserty.
What do I want?
Maybe I could go to the corner store and find something.
No, I shouldn’t go out and buy food.
If I go eat something else I’ll have to write down what I ate.
My therapist will see that I was eating bad things.
I don’t want her to see I was eating bad things.
Dammit! This isn’t fair! It’s not like I want cocaine!
I don’t care. I want something.

[Keeps going @ Grocery Store #1]

What can I have?
Ooh, a donut could be good. I want one donut.
What kind of donut?
Maybe two donuts.
I’ll get those donuts.
Wait! I know that person who just walked by! She works in my building!
Can’t stay here.
Can’t buy donuts here.
I don’t want her to see me buy food.
She’ll know that I’m buying bad food.
Can’t stay here.

[...And keeps going @ Grocery Store #2]

I want something. I want something. I want something.
Why is that guy just standing in front of the donuts?
Grrrr….
I want one, but I’d rather die than ask him to move.
He’ll think I’m a gross disgusting pig.
Maybe there’s something at the deli I can have.
Maybe that. Or that. Or maybe that.
No, I should just get in the car and go home.
Go home, Morgan.
You can take Kiba out for a walk, then cuddle up in bed and read a book.
Go home!
No! I want something!
I don’t care if my therapist sees what I ate.
Yes, I do. I care. I care.
FUCK!

Okay, I think you get the idea. I once outlined this thought pattern for my therapist and she replied that it sounds exhausting, and she was surprised that I got anything done during the day. Hey, I’m surprised, too! But I do manage to function during the day and work two jobs, and take care of Kiba, so just imagine what I might be able to do if I didn’t have this ongoing dialog forever running in the back of mind. I would be fluent in Japanese by now, that’s for damn sure.

What’s frustrating for me right now is that it is still early in the recovery process. I understand that food has a lot of different roles in my life, and addressing that will mean addressing the underlying issues that created my food-mental connection in the first place. But what am I supposed to do in the meantime? Am I supposed to try to break the past eating behaviors without any other coping mechanism in place? Should I just try to be more aware of the way I’m using food, as I work closer to a resolution of these issues? Part of me thinks it’s really unfair that I can’t have the food, but I have nothing to put in its place. Part of me feels like I’m walking around as one big exposed bundle of nerves, hyper-sensitive to everything that comes my way.

I gotta say, this kinda sucks.

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