IF THERE ISN'T A HAPPY ENDING, MAYBE IT'S NOT THE END YET

I've done a fair amount of beating myself up for the bag of chips I snarfed down this week, even though while doing so I think I had a small breakthrough in terms of understanding what motivates my 'ugly eating'. In addition to the blame and guilt, I had a few moments of wondering if I would ever really get over this problem.

Then I thought of the words I'm using to title this entry. I actually don't like this saying at all. Sometimes there are unhappy endings and they are in fact final, and I think quotes like this one demean the pain of that kind of loss. For the record, I also dislike the schtick about when God closes a door He opens a window, despite being a big fan of God. Let's be honest - those doors slamming in your face HURT, and it's disingenuous to get all Pollyannaish about it. Pain is pain, and we have a right to see it through, it's much healthier than repressing it. But I do see the merit in thinking this one through a little bit.

As someone nearing sixty, I can look back to many things I thought were 'endings' that seemed, at the time, to be tragic: would I ever love anyone again? Would I ever find a good job again? How could Merrell discontinue my favorite pair of shoes? But in all instances, I have moved on; I have found other love, I have recreated myself into a new job situation, and while I still lament the demise of the mesh Jungle Mocs (and have found, bought and worn out all the stockpiled ones in warehouses across the country) I have managed to find a suitable replacement.

In our situation, yet another cliche comes to mind: it's not over 'til it's over. Friends, if we're not actually dead, then we can still beat this.

Will I ever really beat this? In all honesty, like any other addict, I have to be realistic. The answer is 'no'. I won't ever be totally free of this any more than my rheumatoid arthritis will magically go away. In both cases, I can hope for management and possibly remission. And in both cases, that takes one hell of a lot of work.

The work is hard, and it hurts, and there's setbacks. But the alternative isn't very nice, either. When i'm giving into magical thinking, I sometimes get a bit whiny because I want it to all go away. It won't. This is my reality. And if you're reading here, then I suspect it's yours, too.

There are people in this world whose reality is not having clean water to drink, or a safe place to sleep..........our reality includes (because of course we deal with many things, each of us) fighting a food addiction. Everyone's got something.

If you woke up this morning - even if you woke up in pain, or woke up bloated from a binge, or woke up depressed/stressed, then you have another chance to get it right. You've got another shot at nudging things a little closer toward healing. Do your best today, just for one day. One day isn't so hard.

Even if you're waking up to face the reality of the empty large pizza box in the kitchen, and you didn't have any guests last night.........it's not the ending yet. We can get better. Love is waiting for you. And Merrell might reconsider discontinuing those shoes. (It's the all-mesh ones, not the leather ones. Sigh.)

WHAT (FUL)FILLS YOU?

We agree that food fills us and assuages our hunger.
We agree that as addicts, we eat to fill needs other than physical hunger.
We agree that we wish we wouldn't do that.

We know we need to change / control our eating.
We know we need new habits regarding food.
We know we need to figure out what other hunger we're actually trying to fill.

But, here's where I went wrong for so long: I focused solely on that part of it - changing my food habits. And this is all good; I mean, only positive things happen when you switch out fruit for Doritos, or water for soda.

Yet I wasn't successful at fighting this terrible addiction until i started working on the question posed above.

Because I'd been using food to fill hungers other than physical ones, you see. And unless I addressed those other hungers, I could not get a handle on this.

There's multiple parts to addressing the other hungers. You've got to actually identify what they are, first of all. Loneliness? Shame? PTSD from abuse? So, so many possibilities, and it's never just one answer, it's always layers.

You've got to work on those issues, which is an incredibly difficult thing to do, and it takes time.

But let's, for a moment, tackle this from the other end.

Let's assume the Hungers are still with you, as they are for me. (I'm getting better, but that doesn't mean I still don't have to deal with this.)

Let's assume they're still there. Here's today's challenge: in what ways can you feed or soothe those hungers without abusing food?

Start a list with me, will you? We're looking at things like music, exercise, companionship, meditation, hobbies, reading.

We're looking at some things which can easily become very bad choices if you go too far, but might be workable for you in small amounts: sex, treating yourself to something new.........probably some other things on this list. Actually, the retail therapy thing that works for me could easily get someone else in trouble. So, be sure to look at each option and think about how you will personally handle it.

We're looking at things which might work but might not, like immersion in family. I have family members who would absolutely trigger my food issues,without question, and family with whom I could and have spent countless hours without even thinking about binge eating Or something like going to a movie: oddly, for me, being in a theater and eating are never connected. The person beside me could have a giant popcorn and it wouldn't trigger me at all, but if my husband microwaves popcorn here at home, I always want some. So a movie theater is safe for me, but it might not be for you.

You need to know yourself to answer the question, but the time you spend figuring yourself out is never wasted.

Let's work on that list. Let's figure out some options, so that the next time the Beast rears its ugly head, we have some options other than Oreos.

Sorting out the root causes and the psychology of our addiction takes a long time and we need to do it. But that's a long term strategy. We need some short-term strategies too, and having a few things in mind can be really, really helpful

My own list - and remember, none of this might work for you:
1. limited retail therapy, i.e. buying used books or secondhand clothing, with a specific $ limit.
2. Cleaning an area of my messy house. For some reason, this inspires me to do well in other areas. Right now, i'm coasting on the high from a shiny porcelain kitchen sink.
3. Office supplies. I am convinced that if I have the right legal pad, or pen, I can organize my life, and this gives me a big boost.
4. Practicing / performing. This is huge for me.
5. Grandlovies. When I hold or talk to the little ones, I'm reminded that I want to dance at their weddings, and to do so, I've got to get my shit together.
6. Walking. Long walks help me a lot.
7. Dancing it out. It is not pretty. But I put on Tower of Power or BST and let it all out. This works when I can't find time for that long walk.
8. Long hot showers. I'll take a snack if I'm in the tub, having associated that time with a glass of wine and something to nibble. I've occasionally indulged in a shower beer if I've worked hard, but generally it's pretty hard to eat in the shower!
9. Tetris or another computer game. This is dangerous territory for me because I could easily get addictive about this too. But a fast paced game where I can't hit pause and shove food in my face can be a good reset for my brain.
10. Greenhouse work. It's my happy place, and it has never been associated with food other than a late-evening glass of wine occasionally.
11. Naps. If I can spare the time, I find that I benefit from 30 minutes, and it often resets the Hunger Beast.
12. Pro-active hydration: this has been huge for me. I believe I often felt hungry when I was actually just thirsty. I no longer wait to feel thirsty to drink water.

what's dangerous for me, but might work for others:

1. reading. I love to read, I'll read a book a week easily, often more. but I do associate it with having snack food. I'm trying to set up a new reading area in my house, in a different comfy chair in a different room, to see if that works - the new reading spot will be food-free.
2. Politics / national news. Nothing makes me reach for the carbs like this administration and the current political climate.
3. trying on too-small clothes. This motivates a friend of mine, who always has a pair of jeans that's a little too tight to try on. Personally it is disastrous for me.
4. Looking too hard at the state of my marriage. There's work to be done here, without a question. But I don't seem to be ready yet to tackle it, and thinking about it triggers my eating.
5. My health issues: rheumatoid arthritis is a bitch. Symptoms are wildly different from one person to another, and each person sees fluctuations, constantly. I am learning that if I reach a certain fatigue point, I'll start eating.
6. Money: I have financial stresses that send me right to the pantry.
7. Disorganization: I'm new at this one, but I'm realizing that one the rare occasions when my house is truly uncluttered, the calm of it really slows down my overeating impulses. this is a huge one to work on for me.
8. Driving: too easy to hit a fast food place.
9. Facebook. i have an awful lot of creative foodie friends, and they post beautiful recipes and pictures. Now, here's what happens: instead of printing those out to possibly try later, I suppress them and try to ignore them. But something's been subliminally planted, so I'll end up, within the hour, eating a bag of chips. I'd be better off making the Chili-Lime Chicken Tacos in the Facebook photo, which would be a healthier choice - and that is exactly what I'm doing for dinner tonight.
10. Social stress: I'm a weird combination of extrovert and introvert. (Does that make me an omnivert? I think so.)
11. Returning phone calls. I loathe the telephone. I despise making calls. I truly hate it. This borders on bizarre, really. I'll do anything to postpone returning calls or making business calls, and that includes making a second lunch.

As the saying goes, "you do you." Figure out your things. Figure out what you're going to do the next time the Beast knocks at the door. It's good to have a plan.

WISDOM FROM THE THIN WHITE DUKE

"Aging is an extraordinary process where you become the person you always should have been." -David Bowie

If you're my age, you'll love that quote for its most literal meaning, about simply getting older. Which, as it turns out, is actually a pretty freaking amazing ride.

But let's tweak it just a toot and apply it to our recovery process.

We are, each of us, on an extraordinary, difficult, and often lonely journey. No one can heal us; we have to do it ourselves. No one will take the food away from us; we have to walk away from it ourselves. No one's going to exercise for us; that's on us too. Since everyone eats food and most people don't have problems with doing so, we're often misunderstood and characterized as selfish or piggish or weak.

This is a rough road to walk, by any metric.

So perhaps it will be helpful to think of it this way, slightly paraphrasing the wonderful David Bowie: "Recovery is the often extraordinary process where you become the person you are meant to be."

We aren't meant to live in shame and frustration. We aren't meant to be overpowered by our addiction. We are meant for greater things.

The recovery process is the road that gets us there. We can do this. We're worth it.

It's not ready to put into words quite yet, but a post on this site has inspired me to write a letter to my mother. She's been gone for decades, so this may seem a little weird, but I honestly think I need to work some things out, and this might help.

I've been away for a few days, at my 're-set' place where I find peace and deal with changes in life and get myself back in balance. It helped. I'm ready for the next stage of this process.

LEARNING FROM OTHER ADDICTS

I spent a lot of hours driving over the last few days and had the opportunity to hear a powerful podcast about a controversial treatment for drug addiction. As is often the nature of listening-while-driving, I missed key elements here and there, and I can't credit the specific program or remember the acronym that identified it.

But what matters is that some of the idea could be helpful to us.

One of our unique challenges is that unlike other addictions, we have to come face to face, or fork to face, with our dangerous substance several times a day, and in fact, we absolutely need it to survive. So there's no question of going cold turkey. (Even now, i'm hearing "mmmm, turkey!" in Homer Simpson's voice.)

In the program I heard discussed on the radio, the premise is simple but understandably controversial: they're challenging the idea that a drug addict must be either / or, as in, either clean or getting clean or in the depths of addiction. The folks who run this program are trying to offer counseling and a safe location for addicts to learn how to use more safely. They feel that some people simply aren't ready to quit, but can at least be taught how to minimize their own risk while doing so until they reach the point here they are willing to stop using. Thus, they advocate for things like using a buddy system while injecting heroin, so that someone knows what you're doing and can alert help if needed. They also teach addicts about some of the risks that can happen when you try to quit and then relapse - your 'normal' dose from before can now kill you, because of (something something something that was discussed while I was arguing with my navigation device). As I said, i didn't catch all the details.

But it did get me thinking. We make a mistake here, as least I definitely have, in thinking that we either have our faces in the food dish or we're on a linear path to recovery.

But that's not how it works, is it? We slip up, we have deep regrets, we hate ourselves, we make grandiose promises, we make stringent plans, and then we slip up again. At least, it worked that way for me for a long long time. And I still slip up, although it's much less frequent these days.

I've realized some things now, on this side of the journey - for I truly believe I've crossed into a second phase of it now - that actually tie in with the idea of teaching drug addicts how to use more carefully.

There is a HUGE, HUGE, HUGE gap between feeling disgusted with yourself about your eating habits and actually being on the road to recovery. We do ourselves a terrible disservice by assuming that it's either / or. I believe that for most of us, there is, yes, absolutely, the pit of despair and dregs of the food addiction. But i also believe that we all waffle around for a long time before we're - well, I can't even use the word 'healed', because I'm not sure it's ever something that does not require vigilance. I certainly assume that I will be a food addict for the rest of my life, albeit a recovering one.

Do you see where I'm going with this? I think if we're honest, we're going to say hey - I'm maybe not ready yet for a complete and total lifestyle change. I'm not ready to exercise six days a week, or only drink water and black coffee, or eat seven servings of fruits and vegetables every day. I'm not ready to say I'll never have ice cream again. I'm not ready to stop drinking. (Your list, as always, will be different from mine.)

But see, I'm not sure we have to go to those absolutes. I think the success I've had - and can I just mention that my jeans fell down today in the grocery store while I was reaching to the top shelf for something? Aisle Six has a security video goldmine, let me tell you - anyway, my success has come because I've used some of the same concepts that the drug clinic in the radio show was promoting.

Specifically, I've accepted that I've got to live with food, and I'm not entirely ready for a totally pure approach to it (and may never be) but I could mitigate the damage by making some changes.

Early on these were things like this: "I'm going to overeat again, but I don't have to do it quite as often as I do now. I'll track how often it happens, and I'll try to lengthen the time in between binges."

"I don't quite want to give up diet Coke, but I can stop drinking it after six pm this week, and next week I'll stop at 4 pm." (This led to giving it up entirely.)

"I am not willing to say that I'll never eat my favorite potato chips again, but I will only buy the smallest bag instead of the supersize one."

"I'm going to stop for fast food, but I'll downsize my usual choice" which eventually led to substituting less caloric and binge-triggering choices and finally to just stopping less often.

"I can't run" (due to some physical limitations) "but I can walk, and i can get to the nature trail three times a week and walk one 3.5 mile loop."

If you're reading this - yes, YOU - and you're in that place where you want to change, but you don't, both at the same time - because clearly if you truly wanted to change you would, right? well, then consider finding this halfway ground. Consider making a list of small tweaks. Now, you can't do this without being honest about your current situation, but it's not like you have to do this publicly. You just have to be honest with yourself. If you're eating two bags of Oreos a week, try to drop to one. If your entire dinner is beige, add one color. Choose a time period each day during which you will not eat - I'm NOT recommending fasting, just learning to not be mindlessly eating, a short period at a time. Pick one meal a day and really make it be a healthy one.

Then.........do those things and learn to relax the rest of the time. Turn off the awful voice that's telling you that you suck. Or do what I do - yell back at it.

(And by 'pants fell down", I mean Pants. Fell. Down. To about my knees. Fortunately, I was wearing really long exercise shorts underneath, the kind of thing that young women can wear in public anyway. So it wasn't as bad as it would have been if it had been, you know, the granny undies. But it was still pretty bad. Sigh.)

TURNING OUTWARD

I think the very thing that's driving my recovery is possibly the reason for my addiction in the first place, or at least, a significant part of it.

The strength I bring to recovery is not an iron will, or a lot of smarts. It's just that I'm willing to look under rocks and be honest about what I find there. My strength is a lack of self-deception, and an innate curiosity about how I work.

But, I begin to realize that keeping my focus inward is not without risk. In order to recover, I set a time limit and decided to really, really focus on my recovery during that time. And to do so, I decided to look in the figurative mirror, to really see myself for who I am, and hold my gaze there even when it's painful.

And that's great. It helps.

But.

But spending so much mental energy figuring my own self out brings with it the risk of focusing far too much on myself. Obviously it would from an egotistical or narcissistic point of view, but what I mean here is something far more basic: if I spend my day thinking about not eating, I am, essentially, thinking about eating, just in the negative.

Think about an alcoholic whose only thought, all day, is "I will not drink". Alcohol still controls them, doesn't it? Because it's all they can think about.

I've noticed that on those days when I'm busy (but in the right way, more on that in the next para) I tend to not overeat, or dwell on overeating, or find myself tempted to do so.

Not just any 'busy' will do. Some kinds of things - for me - are too associated with eating.

I've identified a few situations where I can turn off the mental gymnastics. One is at rehearsal or a performance, although a long history of post-performance binges has to be on my radar; I have to remind myself when i pack up afterward that beer and wings is not an automatic next step. One is when I'm doing a big, creative project on the farm, something that's huge and physical and results in an obvious visible change for the good.

And the last one is when I'm of service to someone else. When i'm helping someone else solve a problem. I don't mean a big-scale Nobel-Peace-nomination kind of thing; I don't have that capability. I mean the day I helped a friend clean up after a small house fire left her with a lot of smoke damage. We washed clothes, we bagged things that weren't salvageable, all the things you have to do in that situation. We stopped at one point when a neighbor brought some pizza. Although my bingeing was always a private secretive thing, i would have, in the past, definitely eaten more pizza than anyone else, and certainly more than I should. And on that day I did not, because the need was so great, and I love my friend, and we had a lot of work to do.

I'm at a pivotal point in my life, as I close on on sixty next year. I still need to create income, but that's become less critical as the mortgage gets paid off and the kids have turned into responsible, thriving adults. My autoimmune thing needs to be managed carefully, and the combination of those two things means that I'm dropping one of the income streams on the farm for next year; I'll no longer run a CSA. That is, by far, the most stressful of the things I do here, and it produces the least income when you look at the hourly work involved. So it's kind of a no-brainer, really. It's a younger person's game, and it's time for me to step out of it.

But the time it frees up will allow me, as I reinvent - no, no, wait

We see that word a lot. I've used it. Reinventing myself. Can I change that script now? I think it's more about uncovering yourself. Letting your real self out. I think we're all meant to be good. We're meant to be kind. We're meant to be strong and healthy. Things just get fucked up along the way and people turn into bigots or addicts or meangirls or underachievers or whatever. But we don't start out that way.

What I'm doing here is trying to unlock and set free the person I was designed to be.

So let's back up to that extra time. I can use it to nurture some parts of myself that have been shoved to the back burner. Exercise, meditation/prayer, and relaxing a bit come to mind. But service is a definite part of my 'next'. I need to figure out the best fit. But it's part of it.

And, of course, getting to the point in my recovery where I don't have to think about food all the time. I think I'm getting closer. Things have been going well. I can't let my guard down - I don't think it's ever going to be possible to do so really - but I'm starting to allow other thoughts to take up more of my brain space. It's a good change.

Thank you so much for your posts. You are helping a lot of people. Good luck on everything. Sending love your way.

^^^ thank you catlover, that really keeps me going!

YOUR DOG DOESN'T CARE

I'm looking for wisdom, now, not only in dealing with my food addiction, but also with world events. I'm finding voices that resonate with me, one of which is Nadia Bolz-Weber. For someone like me, who's trying to hold on to faith but increasingly disillusioned with 'churchiness', she's a breath of fresh air. You may disagree. No worries. I only have to get my own head on straight, not anyone else's.

Anyway, I'm listening to podcasts and reading her books and seeking her out when possible - just missed a chance to see her live, which I regret. One thing in particular struck a nerve with me. I won't say it nearly as eloquently as she does, but the gist of it is that we're all trying so damn hard to be perfect, and we're so hard on ourselves when we're not - but people seem to love us anyway. So, what are they loving? There must be something love-worthy in each of us, even if we're not 'perfect', Ms. Bolz-Weber tied this in to the spark of divine in each of us, but I just sort of got stuck on that part of it, and mulled over it for quite awhile.

Food addicts, perhaps more than any other type of addict, want to be loved. Many of us are finding a substitute for the love we think we don't have in our lives on our plates. I get this. The husband comes home from work and essentially shrugs when he sees me and goes off to watch television, and frankly a pizza helps. I understand what I'm doing here.

But people do love me. (for the record, I suspect that he does too, but honestly, he's somewhere on the Asperger's spectrum, and is emoptionally very limited). My kids love me. My grandkids love me. My grandson does not care if I weigh too much. He says I give the best squishy hugs. I'd rather not be quite as squishy, sure, but if I can make that little human feel loved and safe, well, that's important stuff. (Obviously when I become less squishy I will still be the dispenser of extraordinary hugs. but you take my point.)

And then there's my dog.

I never ever had a dog until eight years ago. My sister was allergic to them and I think my mother was scared of them. No dogs growing up. Somehow it just never happened until I got Finian. My best friend raises and trains English shepherds. They are smart and loving and warm and excellent with livestock. Finian's a bit of a fail at that last part, so she offered him to me when he was eight weeks old. (She can tell, early, how things are going to go with the puppies.) I've never quite been loved like this. Say what you will about humans misreading 'affection' that's really only sucking up to whoever feeds them...........this dog loves me. At the end of the day, we cuddle. He doesn't give a shit if I've finished my to-do list, stayed under my calorie limit, had 30 minutes of cardio, or earned enough money. He doesn't care if my hair looks funny and if I have eye bags. Sure, when he looks into my eyes he might be thinking 'is there ANY chance of a treat?" But I look into those limpid brown pools and see love and acceptance. And that's what I'm sticking with.

Be someone your dog loves. Be someone your grandkids love. If you don't have a dog or grandkids, or if your family situation is toxic, then cast your net further. And focus on the fact that you are loved and worthy of being loved. It will help with the recovery, truly.

Followup: I needed to reread yesterday's words when i got up this morning and saw a horrible number on the scale. I had two beers yesterday, and that always translates to one bad scale reading. I know it's not permanent, and I know a daily scale reading can lead to craziness, and I know - well, I know all the things, okay? I also know that I've decided that there will be days in my life where I'll drink two beers.

But the first thing I did after getting my contacts in was to have a snuggle session with the dog, who loves me even if I have a beer belly.

DON'T DO THIS TODAY

"Self-sabotage is when we say we want something and then go about making sure it doesn't happen." ~ Alyce P. Cornyn-Selby

WHY TODAY MATTERS TO ME

I circled this day on my calendar many, many years ago. Literally, I calculated which day to circle in 1985, and now it's here.

Today, I am the exact age that my mother was when she had a massive stroke.

She had an aneurysm in her brain that burst. I didn't find her for many hours. She received good care by 1985 standards, but unlike today, there wasn't much to be done.

She survived.......sort of. She had intensive therapy - again, the best that was available thirty years ago. She managed to stumble around a bit with a walker before having another stroke. And then more and more of them. She spent the final twelve years of her life in bed, only able to move from her right elbow to her right wrist.

She had to choose between being so heavily medicated that she was in a complete fog, or being in excruciating pain. She made those choices with the dark humor that emerged post-stroke. "I'm thinking I'll punt July," she'd say, letting us know that she'd asked to up her pain meds for awhile to let her body recover a bit.

Eventually her brain was affected too. The last few years she wasn't responsive.

Four days before her first stroke, she and I hiked ten miles on a gorgeous November day in the game lands near my farm. She was the first woman to attend and graduate from college in her tiny Appalachian hometown, during WW2. She was a healthy weight. She smoked heavily, but we didn't know, then, what we know now about that. Other than the smoking, she didn't have any particular high risk. She'd been born with that aneurysm, and it chose that day to rupture.

So guys, this all sounds terribly sad, and it is, but that's not really my point here. this is a day of reckoning for me, personally. Every day beyond this one is one that my mother didn't get to have. I know, even in 1985, that I'd need to think about that today. I knew that today could not pass unremarked.

All I've got for you, as I contemplate this today while frantically running around getting my work done, is this: keep fighting, and calm down. Keep at this struggle, keep striving, keep doing the work that we ood addicts have to do. But at the same time, celebrate life. Don't wait to be 'fixed' or 'thin' or whatever your goal is. The celebration must not wait until then. Because you're here, and you can make a difference in someone's life today.

REVISITING THE BOGGART

I've written about this before. But I'm re-reading the Harry Potter books and so I've been thinking about it again, thinking about that brilliantly conceived sub plot in which the children are taught to overcome their fear by facing it and turning it into something ridiculous in their minds.

Understand, the Thing they fear is still there. But the change in their attitude towards it robs it of the power to immobilize them. And once they've lost their fear, they can conquer it.

We aren't just eating too much, or eating the wrong things. We are, as a group, scared shitless of the power that our addiction has over us.

I chased a bear away from our chicken coop one time. When I was teaching, I once dove headfirst into a pile of fighting teenagers. I will drive in terrible road conditions if I must. I will look at the first horn part for Till Eulenspiegel in symphony and not pee my pants. (Insider joke there.) I am a brave woman.

But a bag of potato chips used to make me panic. If there was one in the house, I was aware of it in the way one would be aware of, say, an intruder, or an abusive family member. I'd be on guard. I'd be thinking about the damage it could do to me. I'd consider it inevitable.

My whole addiction made me panic because my prevailing thought was "What if I can't control this?" Would I end up morbidly obese and unable to tie my own shoes? Would I embarrass my children? Would my husband look at me with disgust? Would I die early? Would I become a burden to my grown kids? Would I ever have un-self-conscious sex again? (There's a much longer list of these questions. You know. Because you have them too.)

It's why I didn't start tackling this earlier, I think: I was afraid I'd fail.

It's only when I re-read that scene in Harry Potter that i realized that my addiction was my Boggart. I was giving it too much control. Understand, this isn't minimizing the effect it had on me. It's a real thing, and it's a bitch. But, i'd let it have too much power.

i taught my boys, when they were young, to understand the power of advertising. When the TV was on, they'd see a commercial and say oh, they're trying to make me want those Legos, or that sugary cereal. They're trying to make you want to buy that car. And we'd talk about how the Legos and the car might be good things, and might seem fun, but we already had plenty of things, and we didn't really need them. I taught them to see how they were being manipulated, and thus, that manipulation had less power over them.

When i finally applied that concept to my addiction, things started changing for me pretty rapidly.

My addiction sucks. Yours too.

My addiction tried to make me want things I do not need, and should not have. They are not evil things. They are things that in moderation are fine. But my addiction tries to make me want more of them than I need or should have.

My addiction makes me FEEl that I need and want these things.

But feelings are not commands.

If I were standing in fire, my body would command me to move. If I were severely dehydrated, my body would command me to drink water.

But eating Oreos? Nah.

That's, actually, ridiculous. And as soon as i began to see it that way, I could take back my power. I will now have these conversations with my addiction in which I mock it: "What do you mean, you think we should buy sticky buns at market when we make our farm delivery this morning? You just had a bagel, you dumb shit! Nice try, but I'm not falling for it."

Yes, literally, I'm carrying crates of produce into the market and muttering this to myself. It does clear people out of the way, at least.

The second part of the Boggart story line is that to banish it entirely, the children must think of the happiest memory they can. I'm thinking that's important for us, too. My happiest times have, amazingly, not involved stuffing my face with food. Bringing them back up at critical times can be helpful.

Let's give our Boggart less power. Let's remember that - powerful though it is, and we all know that's pretty damn scary - we can still see through it. We can still control things. Feelings are not commands. It's fine to want those cookies. But that doesn't mean that automatically you're going to snarf down the whole bag. There's some steps in between. We're in charge here. It's just a feeling.

O IS FOR OPPORTUNITY

Well, this is interesting.

Because I have to take some really nasty meds to combat my rheumatoid arthritis, I get a complete blood panel done every two months to make sure my liver isn't being compromised.

I generally get it done mid day, and thus the blood sugar readings on the test are noted as n/a, since it's not a fasting test.

This last time, I went early in the day and in fact had not eaten anything since around 9 pm the previous evening.

The numbers were too high.

But since it was registered as 'not fasting' as the technicians always indicate for me, this won't flag my insurance company or anything.

Basically, it's my little secret for two months.

Now, I'm not stupid. Well, actually, I might well be, but in this case, I know that you don't mess around with diabetes. This test was not in that range, but it was pretty solidly in the middle of the pre-diabetes numbers.

So. It could have been a fluke, I suppose. I can't remember what I ate the previous day, and that might have been an influencing factor.

But, as I said, you don't mess with this. So here's my plan: I'm going to be extremely careful about what I eat for the next two months. I was already working on the portion control thing and so on, but now I'll go for lower glycemic foods, and more fiber, and more exercise. When I get my next bloodwork done, I'll fast appropriately that morning, and then see what that number reads. If it's lower, I'll know that I'm on the right track. If it's not, I'll make an appointment with my doctor.

My husband is pre-diabetic, so I know the routine here. (Also I can use his tester, and that's probably not a bad idea, to check in a week or so.)

So let's talk about this. Because here's what's relevant: our shitty eating habits will eventually bite us in our often too-large asses down the road. Some of the people who post here are normal weight or even below a normal weight, because food addiction manifests differently for everyone. But I'm not the only overweight person here. And weight aside, no one here is going to be able to claim that their eating habits are excellent.

It would be a shame if we were to overcome our addiction only to find out that an untreated medical condition was going to rob us of a fulfilling life afterward. Now, it gets complicated, especially if you're in the US. My husband retires in a year and we'll have to buy our own insurance, and we're hearing some dire things about pre-existing conditions being disqualifiers. Part of my reason for keeping that blood test a secret (or specifically, the fact that I had fasted before it, and thus the high glucose reading is significant) is that I don't want to risk having another pre-existing condition show up on my paperwork when I need to buy insurance.

But, I have an opportunity here. This is one of the medical situations where I would really have some agency. And this might be just the extra push I've needed. I know from my husband's experience that careful diet can make a huge difference. So, let's see what I can effect in two months.

Get a checkup, guys. Pay attention to your body. Eat well and exercise.
We're doing some hard work here on our screwed-up heads; let's not ignore the rest of us.

BUT ALL I DO IS START OVER

I must be a failure, I said.
Because all I do is start over.
I say I'm going to eat healthy food
and exercise
and so on
but I fail
and then I have to start over.
So I must be a failure, right?

No, said the sun.
I start over every morning, don't I?
Doesn't it get dark and cold every single night
don't I have to light and warm the world
again every morning?

Oh, I said.

Wait.

I wanted to be the best mother to my children
but some days I was tired and irritable and snapped at them
and the next morning, refreshed, I'd start again.
And that was okay. They love me.

I want my relationship with my husband to work
But we're very different people
and it's hard
so I keep starting over.
And that's okay. We learn new things
every time.

I want my garden to be weed free and lush
but I get lazy or too busy with other things
and every year I start over.
and that's okay.
It's messy and weedy but
many people
many many people
have sat at my table and laughed
and told stories
and been fed well.

I want this concert, today, to be perfect
But it won't be, because there is no perfect
but that's okay.
I will do better the next time
and people will listen
and walk away refreshed

The news exhausts me
the casual cruelty
and it's hard to keep fighting
and loving
but that's okay. It's a relay race, after all,
and it's okay to pass off the baton and start again
after a rest.

So.

Maybe starting over
is what it's all about
after all.
Maybe just having the strength to try again
and the faith to believe that it can work
maybe that's what we can do.

Maybe the only way to really fail
Is to stop caring
is to stop trying
is to stop starting over.

ANOTHER EXCUSE BITES THE DUST

I left my rheumatologist's appointment today and realized i'd been using it as an excuse for the last six weeks.

I haven't been really pushing myself to do the exercise I need to lose weight. I had some good reason to suspect that at today's appointment, my medical protocol would be changed up a bit. And so I thought well, let's just see how that plays out; perhaps on a different med i'd feel more energetic, or something.

Understand, i never articulated this thought to myself. Understand that there was no logical reason to think that a med change would really make a difference. Understand that there was nothing actually stopping me from exercising as much as I should; I have to deal with some pain, but that's a manageable situation, and not something that will ever really go away.

So, I truly did not even realize I was using this as an excuse until i left the appointment and realized whoa, can't use THAT excuse any more.

How dumb is that?

How often do I do that?

On the drive home from the appointment, I thought of a few other stupid excuses i've used just in the last few weeks. here's a few of them. See if anything sounds familiar to you.

"I might as well just stop for fast food, my schedule is terrible, and this will save me the time it takes to make lunch." (Like making a salad at home takes hours or something? Twit.)

"Well, I'll pay more attention to my intake tomorrow, but we're having company for dinner today, so, I'll just let this slide." (Like my company counts how many bites of cheesecake I eat? Twit.)

"I know I imposed a limit of three drinks per week, but I'm having lunch at this great restaurant and they have such great craft beers on tap." (Like I'm gonna die if I have an unsweetened iced tea? Twit.)

"I know I should get up early and go for a walk today but there's some laundry to do." (Like I'm actually going to do the laundry? Twit.)

So yes, I'm a twit. I look for excuses not to do the right thing. I need to stop doing that. First step is to acknowledge it, to call it out when i see it. Okay, i can check that off. Now, of course, comes the hard work.