Growing up I never had an affinity for narcotic or alcohol usage. In fact part of me was terrified of taking that first hit/snort/or drink for fear that I would start down that road of addiction and lose all semblance of control of my life. But as early as five I remember waking up on Saturday mornings after my parents had friends over, and where they’d had White Castle or Taco Bell I would rummage through the empty bags laying all over the living room looking for leftovers. Now if that isn’t the sign of an addict I don’t know what is.
Honestly it seems like the food demon has me these days. I’m back on the wagon today, having my breakfast shake. But I wonder if it’s only a matter of time during the passing minutes and seconds of the day before I mosey into the kitchen and find the leftovers of my binge last night.
I feel so weak in the face of food and my emotions. Like, if I’m happy and want to celebrate, I want to eat. If I’m sad and depressed, I don’t want to feel this, so let’s eat to that too.
I know I’m not alone in this. And that there are those who starve themselves in an attempt to control the food and what it does to them. It’s the same thing that controls me and drives me to eat compulsively then feel the self-loathing that I do now.
Not that I wish it on anyone. Pain and self-hatred don’t really serve any real purpose. Okay well maybe they do. Perhaps they drive you to be better, to treat yourself better than you have in the past. At least I can see that in an idealist’s kind of way.
As it is I have several friends who cut, or have cut in the past. Some I went to high school with, some who are married now. Most no longer do it. But it wasn’t as if I didn’t understand the psychology of it. It made them feel better. They used the physical pain to control the emotional pain. Was it self-destructive behavior? Yes. But they didn’t need my judgment. They needed my friendship. And most of the time an adult’s reaction was just to scream and yell and compound their pain.
I never cut, but I sure could put away some food. And given the right circumstances I still can. For whatever reasons I want so badly just to give up on this front. To say I can’t control this. Because I can’t. I’m powerless on this front. I can no more control this addiction than I can the weather. And to think I can is ludicrous.
It’s not the food but it is the food. It’s not the food in the sense I’m an addict and in whatever I choose to do I have the propensity to abuse it. It is the food in that is the substance that makes me high when I use it. Yes, I get a high on food when I abuse it. Don’t judge unless you’ve been there.
Some people use cigarettes and booze, my biological father certainly does. I use food. I find myself sometimes desperate to get my fix and I will do anything to get it. I’m not proud of that fact. It just happens to be my behavior when it comes to my food.
That being said my life today is much happier than it was yesterday. More stable thanks to my meds.
On a day when Sara just wanted to get her kids out of the house she was nice enough to stop and get my meds yesterday. After sleeping all day I pigged out and slept all night. Not exactly healthy behavior.
Of course today I choose to work. And I’m hopeful to go to the bookstore and knock out some more pages on Gemini’s Legacy. Every day I’m closer to being finished with the book. I look forward to finishing the trilogy. I really want to work on BELLA MORTE but I really want to lose myself in the series, so I want to finish some of my work I owe my other publishers.
So it’s Legacy, the third book in the trilogy and Doves before I move on to Bella Morte. Thanks again for listening, sometimes I just need to get the dark stuff out and these days there seems to be plenty of it to go around.