I usually think I have to be funny. Have to make someone laugh or smile. I try to think of something enjoyable to write about. I try to imagine giving someone something to reflect on or think about. I often pretend that this is important and that I am making a difference. But, today this is just to me . . . Not funny, not enjoyable, way too honest for my liking. But, I got permission to not sugar-coat it, from Amy.
Note to self:
I’m an addict. There is no getting around it. It makes me sad to say those words because I don’t want to think that about myself. I don’t want to believe that.
I’m messed up. Just as messed up as somebody who has to have their prescription pain killers a couple times a day or somebody who can’t stop smoking a cigarette even though they have lung cancer. I’m just as broken as a crack addict or a falling-down-dead drunk. As crazy as a gambler or a spender.
My addiction is to food and failure. It’s pretty overwhelming when I face it full on — when I say the words and admit it to myself [and worry about who might be reading this.] This morning when I was posting that I was finally heading the right way I realized I have said that a million times. I thought, “If I had a dollar for every time I’ve said I’m starting over, heading the right way, turning the corner, turning this ship around . . .” I could retire in luxury. I’d never have to work another day in my life, because I’ve said it, like, a million times.
It’s no different than someone who has been drunk a thousand times and says s/he will never take another drink. “It will be different this time,” they shout! Most of us know they’ll be drunk in an hour or two. I recognize that in others so why do I think I can fix me?
I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to stop this. I don’t know how to beat it.
I see other people struggle with something and my first thought is one of repulsion. I’m like, HELLO! Just STOP! Put that cigarette down. Get your self into rehab. Think of what you are doing to your loved ones and yourself! Look what you are doing to your body! Just don’t buy any more prescription drugs. Or wean yourself off. Don‘t use a credit card. Don’t buy anything you don’t need. Don’t go into a bar.
Yah, it’s totally nuts that food controls my every waking moment. I remember the day it started when I was 16 years old. Looking back, it is simply eerie because I remember something/someone screaming inside of me. . . don’t do it. Don’t stick your fingers down your throat. Don’t think this is the easy way out. Don’t deceive yourself. Don’t go down this path.
But, I did and here I am 45 years later on that same path.
I’m not saying I’ve been absolutely miserable every single day of my life. That’s far from true! I’ve had lots of happiness. I find happiness all around me. I enjoy many things. I have plenty of joy in a variety of people, places, and things. I’ve just arranged my coping skills around this bizarreness in my life. I clean around the elephant. I holler around him so that others on the other side can hear me, and I am able to climb over him quite adeptly. But, I sure would like him to get the heck out of my living room!
Let’s hope I figure this out before I die — because I don’t want something like, “Here lies someone who wasted her entire life on the most insignificant thing ever . . . a number on the scale. ” on my headstone. I really don’t want that to sum up my life here.
OK, then, that was morose!
Snapping out of it . . . snapping out . . .