Sometimes revelations can occur despite having had the thoughts many times before. Why it strikes a chord at that particular time is a mystery. It happened to me on a Tuesday, in May, in 2007. When I realized that being an alcoholic wasn't the worst thing in the world. That drinking was.
Days and years pass and you wake up to realize that you've substituted food as a reward or maybe as a punishment. Instead of the vodka, you use chocolate, donuts, cookies and soda. Eaten fast enough it can almost trigger that sweet buzz that brought oblivion. But the food never made me pass out after that warm, tingly feeling.
After the months of self examination, meetings, counselors, self-help books, you'd think I'd have figured it out by now. Why do I seek that numbness? That warmth. The oblivion. Why do I substitute sugar? Why do I feel the need for something external to deal with the hurt, the happiness, the helplessness, the anger, the sadness?
It's so easy for the therapist to say "substitute something healthy like exercise". It's far easier to substitute excuses. It's better to eat than drink vodka. It's too hard to be gluten free, dairy free, egg free and don't forget all the kidney stone generating food. It's easy to get tired of the gagging sounds people make when talking about your food. They seem to judge when you don't stay on your special diet. It's easy to use the aches and pains, the fibromyalgia, the migraines.
But by far the most strident, harshest judge is your inner voice. You feel unworthy. Weak. Loathsome. Where do those messages come from. Why can't they tell me how strong and intelligent I am. How beautiful. How spiritual and comfortable with my soul I am. How I am ready to shed this layer of fat cells that I seem to be using to protect something. What that something is, I'm not sure.
I've felt that my body is out of tune. Out of synch. In chaos. In denial. In stasis. But like that day that I knew I could never drink my beloved raspberry vodka again, I know that bad food can be as harmful as the liquor. To my addictive physical being, it's the chemical composition-the sugar reaction-it's not the form, liquid or solid. Vodka drunk or chocolate drunk. It all leads down the same dangerous path.
Days and years pass and you wake up to realize that you've substituted food as a reward or maybe as a punishment. Instead of the vodka, you use chocolate, donuts, cookies and soda. Eaten fast enough it can almost trigger that sweet buzz that brought oblivion. But the food never made me pass out after that warm, tingly feeling.
After the months of self examination, meetings, counselors, self-help books, you'd think I'd have figured it out by now. Why do I seek that numbness? That warmth. The oblivion. Why do I substitute sugar? Why do I feel the need for something external to deal with the hurt, the happiness, the helplessness, the anger, the sadness?
It's so easy for the therapist to say "substitute something healthy like exercise". It's far easier to substitute excuses. It's better to eat than drink vodka. It's too hard to be gluten free, dairy free, egg free and don't forget all the kidney stone generating food. It's easy to get tired of the gagging sounds people make when talking about your food. They seem to judge when you don't stay on your special diet. It's easy to use the aches and pains, the fibromyalgia, the migraines.
But by far the most strident, harshest judge is your inner voice. You feel unworthy. Weak. Loathsome. Where do those messages come from. Why can't they tell me how strong and intelligent I am. How beautiful. How spiritual and comfortable with my soul I am. How I am ready to shed this layer of fat cells that I seem to be using to protect something. What that something is, I'm not sure.
I've felt that my body is out of tune. Out of synch. In chaos. In denial. In stasis. But like that day that I knew I could never drink my beloved raspberry vodka again, I know that bad food can be as harmful as the liquor. To my addictive physical being, it's the chemical composition-the sugar reaction-it's not the form, liquid or solid. Vodka drunk or chocolate drunk. It all leads down the same dangerous path.
No comments:
Post a Comment