Kitto - SAVING GRACE: how i gave up guilt, got to know my unconscious and lost weight for good

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First published in 2018 by September Publishing

Copyright Grace Kitto 2018

The right of Grace Kitto to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the copyright holder

Typeset by Ed Pickford

Printed in Denmark on paper from responsibly managed, sustainable sources by Nrhaven

ISBN 978-1-910463-91-8 (PDF)
ISBN 978-1-910463-92-5 (ePUB)
ISBN 978-1-910463-93-2 (Kindle)

September Publishing

www.septemberpublishing.org

To Chris for giving me all the best lines and
Orlando for his support, through thick and thin

This is a work of creative non-fiction. The events and conversations are portrayed to the best of my memory. While all the stories in this book are true, most names and identifying details have been changed to protect the privacy of the people involved.

June 2011

Dartmoor is wild and beautiful at this time of year. Its early June and the birds and insects are making a ruckus, a gentle musical hum which fills the air, scented with yellow gorse. Picking my way among the vast rocks, up tangled pathways, through bracken and brambles which catch at my dress, I climb the tor till Im almost at the top. Im very fat so its not easy.

Ive heard theres a wild woman who lives in a cave under the tor and rarely comes down or speaks to anyone. I want to meet her. Im breathless and humbled by the time I get there.

Hello? I call into an echoing silence. Hello? Bridget? Is Bridget here? No answer. But in the dark recesses of the cave I see a movement, quick, defensive and silent. She doesnt step forward.

I hang around for a bit but then begin to feel intrusive, as though Im disturbing her. I turn away and begin reluctantly to make my way down the steep rocky path, stumbling and sliding on the dry, gravel-strewn track.

I become aware that someone is peering after me, and glance back. Two bright eyes dart at me, noticing my every movement. No other word or gesture in my direction. I make my way slowly down the hill, dejected but not defeated. Ive glimpsed her. Shes seen me and almost acknowledged my presence. Ill come again.

17st 6lb

Wednesday, 1 June 2011

I GOT ON the scales this morning full of dread. They shuddered and swung, then settled. I gazed at the result, willing it to be less bad than I suspected. Tears splashed onto my feet because no matter how hard I stared at it, or how I shifted my position, the needle had tipped the next stone and was resting inflexibly at seventeen stone six pounds.

Im embarrassed that this matters as much as it does. There are plenty of other things in the world to be concerned about climate change, the arrogance of bankers, the war in Afghanistan, and my son claiming crossly that theres nothing wrong with his school shoes just because they have holes in them and his toes are actually poking through. These things are the stuff of life, theyre what I read about and think about and are obviously much more important than this. My weight is just a tiny little side issue, an irrelevance, not important at all in the vast scheme of things. But still it made me cry.

This is not a new problem. In fact, its wearyingly old. And its not that I havent tried to diet. I have, many times. Ive lost a bit here, gained a lot there and after years of struggle, have been left with an increasing waistline and a perpetual sense of failure.

Its hard to explain to anyone who hasnt had weight issues where the problem really lies. In my case, theres a disconnect between what I mean to do and what I actually do that stymies me every time. This was forcefully demonstrated by one particular incident a few years ago. Ive been mulling on it ever since and trying to make sense of it.

ON THE EDGE of Dartmoor there is a place called Cadover Bridge. Its more than just a bridge. Theres a river walk, a picnic spot and a car park all known by this one name. I pass it twice a day on my drive to and from work, a lovely journey across this corner of the moor. Through the seasons I watch the changing landscape of Dartmoor in all weathers, the tors at the horizon on one side and a distant glimpse of Plymouth Sound and the open sea on the other, a twice daily pause for reflection and mental restoration which I love.

It was a sunny day in early summer.

I had a busy production schedule in my job at ITV and during the day had no time to draw breath, let alone worry about my weight. I had finished work and was about to go home. For some reason I cant now remember I started to think unhappily about how fat I felt. I strode across the car park muttering to myself that I was absolutely definitely going to start a diet that very night.

My route home takes me back across the same edge of Dartmoor but with reverse views, obviously. No Plymouth Sound facing this way, but instead I sweep down a long hill towards Cadover Bridge car park, where for eight months of the year an ice cream van is parked. Without stopping to consider I pulled in, bought myself a 99 cone and sat in the car eating it.

Five minutes later I came to, as if from sleepwalking dammit, I was about to start a diet! I really, really didnt mean to do this. How did I suddenly have an ice cream in my hand? I trembled with frustration and fury at myself. To add to the sense of disbelief, the truth is that Im not even very keen on ice cream, or indeed chocolate. I dont actively dislike them but neither are my treats of choice.

I couldnt understand how it had happened. Lets be clear, Im not saying that I blacked out. I can remember buying the ice cream and getting back into my car to eat it. What I have no idea of is how I came to make the decision to buy it, and to override the previous decision to diet. I suddenly saw the complete madness of my situation. No sooner had I decided to lose weight, than I had done this crazy thing. I realised on that miserable sunny afternoon that there were two parts of my brain just not talking to each other. It was as if I was deaf to my very self. It seemed obvious that my unconscious was at work. It had other plans for me that day, not revealed, but demonstrating quite clearly that it was in charge of my actions.

That moment crystallised a recurring problem at the heart of any diet plan Ive ever tried. It cant be a coincidence that every time Ive made the decision to lose weight, the next thing I know is bang, Im suddenly eating a calorie-laden snack that I didnt want and dont need. On that day, at Cadover Bridge, it seemed a clear message that my unconscious was the boss of me. It felt like there was nothing I could do about it.

Years ago, I read Freud as background to a television series I was working on about the history of mental illness. Ever since he popularised the idea of the unconscious, it has been regarded as a powerful force in decision-making. I remembered that according to him, only a very small percentage of our thinking is conscious. On the other hand, the conscious part of the mind is where the verbal self lives, the I we call ourselves. So where had the decision to eat the ice cream I neither wanted nor needed come from? My unconscious, I presumed, which was not merely deaf to me, but was cocking a snook at me, having a laugh at my expense. It was maddening.