IT's THE REAL THING. THE REAL PROBLEM, THAT IS.

I've posted before about my diet Coke addiction and may have given you the impression that I'd kicked it. Something important is happening right now, and so I need to be a little more transparent about the nature of that particular sub-addiction.

It was fierce. I was drinking six or more cans a day. Barely drinking any water. I planned trips around the availability of diet Coke, or transported ridiculous amounts with me. Nothing could be substituted, I can literally smell the difference between diet Coke and all other diet sodas.

I once shovelled our entire, ridiculously long driveway after a huge snowstorm all by myself. My husband thought I did it as a surprise for him when he came home from work. Nope. I just needed to get to the little store in town and stock up.

When I walk into that store - we've been here 35 years and it's a tiny place - they literally ring up the cost of a twelve-pack before I even put my hand on it. It's kind of a running joke that it's the only reason I go in there.

I had the opportunity to travel overseas and I actually emailed my destination first to find out about diet Coke's availability before updating my passport.

When i was teaching school and they administration removed soda machines, I bought a tiny refrigerator and hid it in one of the locked bandroom storage closets that had an electric outlet. For ten years I kept it full and never had a student find out.

I could literally lay down my life for my children, but if they were coming to visit I'd hide the diet Coke if I was down to the last few cans, just in case.

If I saw an empty can, I would need to get a fresh one and drink it. LIke chainsmoking.

The sound of the can opening is a comforting one to me.

Yes. It was that bad.

So I decided to stop several months ago, since I could truly see the connection between this and my other food-addict behaviors.

But what happened was that I just cut back dramatically. I thought hey, one a day couldn't hurt. If I've been drinking seven, surely that's an enormous improvement, right? So I kept my early morning one.

Then the mission-creep started. If I'm running errands and stopped at McDonald's for a large diet Coke, well, that was actually showing serious moral fortitude, you see, because I wasn't getting anything else, so yay for me, and sure, it's the equivalent of two cans, but hey, it's still not seven a day, right? And I sure seem to run errands a lot.

Then the husband, who once a year does something thoughtful but usually misguided, made a CostCo run and came home before Christmas with several cases of diet Coke. (He misses all the cues, bless his heart.)

And it was the holidays, so hey, let's not be a tight-ass, and this is better than eating a lot of sugar, right?

All the while, I'm gaining weight, and continuing to struggle with the Cravings Monster.

So in the ultimate of cliches, my hairdresser tells me about a weight loss / healthy eating program she's doing. I read up on it, I think hey, let's give this a whirl, it actually sounds doable.

I haven't even started it yet, although I'm doing a sort of slow start, making some gradual changes. It's whole 30. I'm not endorsing it. Do your thing. But this looks like it's a good fit for me.

But the reason I won't commit to an actual start is that I had to give up the diet Coke. And in my heart, I knew that this was really true. I had to stop this, forever, no matter what diet or eating plan I eventually choose.

I can't continue to spend $ on this awful stuff when people are dying of hunger and thirst. I can't drink a soft drink that is now associated with a certain politician's excessive consumption of it. (Sorry to be political, but this is a genuine factor in my decision to stop; it's surely not a secret that I'm like the ultimate bleeding heart.) I can't continue to speak to groups about the value of locally raised sustainable food while my hotel room fridge is filled with Diet Coke.

So, six days and four hours ago, I drank the last one.

This is literally the longest I have gone without one in thirty years, or however long it's been since the product was introduced. The longest by..............five days and eight hours. I am not kidding.

Now, here's the kicker.

I've lost six pounds in those six days. Six pounds of bloaty, squishy, uncomfortableness.

I am not waking up five times a night to pee.

And the absolute best part? Something HUGE has happened regarding the Cravings Monster.

I've been hungry this week. I'm playing at a theater and long, long stretches go by where I don't eat at all, and I come home so late and so tired that I don't eat then either.

But, it's not the frantic kind of hunger. How to describe it? It's a feeling that I notice, and then sort of dismiss. The actual mental script is often something like this: I'm kind of hungry. Well, it's about an hour until a good time to stop for lunch. And then I forget about being hungry. This is, actually, what that therapist once suggested I work on: seeing feelings as just that. Feelings and not commands. but I couldn't do it until now.

This sort of thing has not happened for years.

Now, lemme get all sciencey for ten seconds. There's tons of studies out there saying diet soda is terrible on many levels. There are specific studies saying that it's detrimental for people trying to lose weight specifically, because even though it has no calories, it screws with your sense of satiety, and it triggers sugar cravings.

Then, there's tons of studies refuting all of those other studies.

You can get lost in the rabbit hole sorting that out, looking at who paid for the studies - guess who's paid for most of the ones saying it's okay? I've done that, i've found the refuting studies and use them as justification.

Or, you can just stop drinking the damn stuff for a week and see what happens.

I have had a low grade headache for part of this week. I'm not pretending this has been a walk in the park. Incidentally, the particular eating program I'm trying allows black coffee, so I've actually had more coffee than usual to alleviate any caffeine withdrawal. But there is definitely some kind of shift going on in my system as I'm getting used to not having the regular infusion of aspartame.

Aspartame is probably not evil. But FOR ME, it is becoming apparent that it is a huge trigger. It is clear now that FOR ME , it stimulates my appetite and sets off cravings.

I have been doing this wrong for thirty years, during which time I have gained sixty pounds. I can't even unpack the enormity of that damage right now.

I had food issues long before I started drinking diet Coke. This is not the entire puzzle. There is more work to do. But it is a very, very large piece that's suddenly been put into place.

Your journey and mine are different. But what connects us is this: this is effing hard work. This takes a lot of thoughtful effort. But we can do this.

MOONSHADOW

We're not a birthday family. We make a fuss over the little ones, but schedules and so on being what they are, we're a little haphazard about the grownups. Good wishes are sent via email or phone, but other than a few significant numbers, there hasn't been a 'birthday party' of any kind for awhile.

So it is unusual for me to even remember, let alone mention, that today is mine.

But the significance is that I now have one year left, exactly, to reach my goal. Now, I'm not abandoning a healthy lifestyle the day after my 60th birthday. If I don't meet my goal, I'm not giving up. But on that day, I'm going to make a pretty dramatic shift from inward-thinking to outward-thinking. I'm going to stop, on that day, writing about my own journey, and either start focusing on a book about this addiction, or just gently put that idea aside and get on with my life and stop hogging up this board. This is the promise I made myself, and you, when I started posting here.

So, let's talk about getting old. I've read every post on this site, and absorbed all of that pain, and one thread that runs through our posts in a sense especially among our younger posters that life is passing you by because of your addiction. There's a little undercurrent, sometimes, of a desperation that if you don't get things under control as a young adult, your entire future is bleak.

I can only speak from my own experience of course, but I'd call b.s. on that.

What I'm finding is that when you get old, you don't lose your younger self and all the good parts of that person - at least, you don't have to. All of that energy and passion and sexiness and silliness and creativity are actually still there.

You're just adding a layer. I'm 59 today. but really, I'm all the ages I've ever been; now, I just get to add the next layer.

That's all.

Of course things change. Of course there are unspeakable losses. There are discarded dreams and lost loves. But the compensation for that is the incredible depth of empathy and wisdom that can be a part of aging, if you choose to allow it.

Five years ago, I expressed a similar opinion to someone who shot it down emphatically. I was too physically healthy, he said, to have a grasp of what it means to get old. Getting old is hell, he said. I should just shut up and wait until my body started to fall apart and my financial future was uncertain and I was left alone. Then I could talk about aging gracefully, he said. Not until then.

All I can say to that is to repeat that I can only share my own experience. And my own experience includes a chronic, incurable auto-immune disease that will take something valuable away from me on its own timetable, and I don't know what. I'm guessing it will be the use of my hands, since I can see fast-moving deterioration of the joints and increasing deformity. but it might be my ability to walk, or it might be organ damage.

I am not whining. We're all mortal. The only real difference is that I have a clue what's ahead, and many people don't.

My reason for mentioning it is only that I think I do, genuinely, have the right to say it's okay to get old, because my own process has this particular physical challenge. I am not approaching it from some kind of naive and idealistic fairytale place. I suppose I could still be the sweet eighty five year old pulling home baked cookies from the oven for the great grandchildren, after having run a half marathon that morning. I mean, these women exist.

But I probably won't be one. And that's okay.

My own getting-older soundtrack includes the song Moonshadow by Cat Stevens. It was a staple of my teen years, although I didn't really get it, then. It speaks to moving on from loss, in a lighthearted sort of way: If I lose this, then, well, I'll do something else instead. At thirteen, my only goal was to master the chord changes. Ironically, I've just made the decision to give away all but one of my guitars, because I don't have the hands for it anymore, and I'll just keep the very first one, that I got with S&H green stamps, so I can keep teaching the grands the songs they need to learn. I can still do that much.

But here's the point I've been drifting toward in this post: I can use the time I might have once spent playing my good Martin guitar doing something else that I love. There are always more things out there to love. And there is always more work to do. Capital W Work. I'm not talking laundry here.

Getting old can be hard work, both physically and mentally, and it's a bit of a crapshoot. You could do all the 'right' things and still end up facing challenges. But doesn't that describe everything about life anyway? Having been young, and now, looking at getting old, I can say without hesitation that being young is actually much, much harder.

I don't mean for this post to be morbid or sad in the least. I've actually tweaked it a few times already to keep it from veering in that direction. Because the most important takeaway from this is actually about YOU, not about me. It doesn't matter how old you are right now - your immediate life and your future can be good ones. Your life isn't on hold until you get the addiction under control. The good things in life, the love and laughter and shining moments, are not exclusively reserved for people without addictions, you know. There are many good things ahead for us.

I love reading your posts katie......Happy Birthday! Here's to adding the best layer yet!

^^^^ Thank you, HOW 716! I hope things are going well for you.

WHAT ARE YOU PRACTICING?

I'm a farmer, but that only accounts for half of my income. The rest of the time, I make raspberries in a twisted up piece of plumbing.
Yes. I make fart noises into a pipe, and get paid. And applauded. It's surreal.

It is necessary to control the speed at which air moves through the pipe during these fart noises, and it is vital to have the control to sustain them. I have to be able to make fart noises that start out super loud and immediately decrease, or vice versa, or some permutation like starting soft, getting louder, and then fading away. I need to convey emotion with these fart noises, ranging from howling anger or majestic triumph to unspeakable loss and sorrow. My pipe-farts must be able to blend with the honk and squeak noises of my fellow musicians. I need to be able to decipher blobs of ink on paper that direct the pitch and length and style of the farts. I need endurance so that I can make raspberries for six or seven hours a day, and if you think that's a piece of cake, well, start tooting and see how it goes.

In order to continue to get paid for making raspberries, I need to practice doing so, to keep the skills sharp. And herein lies the conundrum: I am unusual among pipe-farters of my level in that I have a lot of other things in my life going on. Many of my fellow farters are singularly focused on their raspberry prowess, and dedicate hours and hours every day to perfecting their toots. Sometimes I envy them their focus, but that's just not how my brain works.

I learned at an early age that the key was to practice with ruthless efficiency, as opposed to increased duration. And to do that, I had to study the process of practicing. I had to clearly identify my goals. Then, I had to figure out exactly how few steps I could take and still reach them.

Here's how I apply what I learned - this is what's happening in my fart-noise life right now:

I have been on a leave of absence from an orchestra in which I am principal horn, due to some scheduling conflicts.

When I return Monday night for the first rehearsal of the next concert cycle, it will be with a new-to-me conductor. She started conducting the group last September, just when I had to step down for awhile.

Thus, the first impression she has of me will be this Monday night.

She's very efficient. She sent out a schedule. The first thing on Monday night's lineup is a read through of Respighi's ""Pines of Rome".

If by any chance there is another horn player here, you know exactly what that means and you are probably already laughing. But sympathetically.

But let me try to explain it for those of you who are not. On Monday night, cold start, I'm going to have to walk a tightrope in a howling storm with no net. The piece begins with 8 bars of rest, which, at that tempo, will actually only last six seconds. During that time, my professional life will flash before my eyes, and I will recall every mistake I have ever made, compressed into a six second warp speed summary.

Then, I must pop out a high fanfare that hangs in the area where you can literally play any note with any fingering combination (it's a physics thing), and thus must negotiate the entire delicate process by ear and embouchure strength alone. It is brutally exposed; there is absolutely nothing to distract the listener from it. I play in that range a lot, but the cold start and the exposure add a real danger to this solo.

When it's done, there's a few measures rest before an even more terrifying part, which goes up to a high B. Several times. There are only a few high B's in the orchestral solo literature that are this exposed. One other is in the New World Symphony, fourth movement. I played that last spring, and I gacked the high note. It was awful. Delicately approached it, perfect tone, controlled crescendo leading into it, and then basically crapped my pants in public. I'm sure I'll be thinking of that on Monday night.

That's the thing about the particular style of pipe into which I blow raspberries. They're treacherous little bastards sometimes. I was, honestly, pretty well prepared for New World. What happened to me has happened to every horn player. You learn from it and move on. At a semi-pro level, at least I got to keep my job.

So, knowing the PInes of Rome awaits, I've tweaked my practice. I've identified the issue: endurance and range. I don't have to practice the specific notes, those are easy for me. I need to be a better horn player, specifically, a better high horn player. (We specialize. there are high farters and low farters.)

If I did have trouble with the notes or the rhythm, those would be my first line of attack, because playing something wrong imprints it in your brain, and you need to play it right a few times to get the muscle memory straightened out. And those are the two most basic elements; they have to be right before you can focus on other things.

My practice lately has included extra exercises focused specifically on the highest notes. The dog is so, so unhappy about this. But it's got to be done.

I've written an exercise just for this purpose, isolating the exact things I need to perfect: it includes the fanfare multiple times, to build endurance, it extends to an even higher range (because I'll be confident about the B if I can play the D above it cleanly) and it requires the same kind of precision staccato tonguing that the solo will. And, it ends with a cool-down, an important process in which the farting muscles are slowly relaxed, so that they can fart again later without fatigue.

Now, how does this connect to fighting our addiction?

I think it's actually really similar in many ways.

First, if you're practicing the wrong thing, you're cementing that into your brain. I am no longer putting cream in my coffee, but even after weeks of black coffee, I'm still having to stop myself when I automatically reach into the fridge for the cream after I pour a fresh cup. Muscle memory. years of practice make it automatic to reach for the cream, to pull into McDonald's, to get a bag of chips while watching TV. I practiced those things for years, after all.

Specializing practice to meet goals is essential. Someone reading this may have a food addiction, but not a weight problem, and drinking coffee black may have no benefit for that person. We have to figure out what our goals are, and what we need to do to meet them.

And, we need to not waste time on the things that don't take us closer to that goal. Those things may be an important part of someone else's practice, but we might not need them. I have discarded the practice of weighing and measuring my portions because after an eye-opening re-education about what a half cup really is, I no longer need to do that. I've tossed the supplements except for the one that my bloodwork showed I actually needed. A food diary does not work for me, so i don't bother with that anymore.

We need to identify what needs to be done, and we need to approach it in a logical order. I can't work on the emotive part of my solo until the technical part is done. I couldn't manage my addiction until I understood it. I am getting better, but I have to do things in order.

We need to create exercises for isolating the good behavior and practicing them. For me, this means that Sunday night is food-prep time. I plan meals, I chop and bag ingredients. It means that I walk 3.5 miles two days and rest one day. It means that I stay out of the room where the TV is set up. It means that I have a timer near the computer so I don't fall into the rabbit hole and sit on my butt for hours. I surround myself with good people who will not sabotage me. I meditate. I study. I'm creating a structure to facilitate good behavior, a regular routine.

My practice is different from your practice. Elements of mine might work for you, but probably not much will be the same. What is consistent, though, is that we have to identify our goals, break down the steps needed to get there, and make sure we're practicing the right things. And not waste time on the other stuff.

Because we are more than our addictions. We have things to do, and we can't be obsessing over this addiction thing to the exclusion of our families, our loves, our careers and passions. Even raspberries.

PUT THE RIGHT FUEL IN THE TANK

I have not experienced or exhibited a food-addiction related behavior or thought pattern for seven days.

There are binge foods in the house, because the husband enjoys them. There is money in my pocket, and I have driven past many fast food outlets or walked through dangerous grocery store aisles.

In short, the 'near occasion of sin', as we cradle Catholics were taught, is plenty near.

But I am, it seems, immune. I ate at a restaurant and left food on my plate. Guys, this does not happen. Usually at a restaurant I try to be discreet about it, but I will eat every morsel of food on the table as methodically as possible. But three nights ago..........I didn't finish my dinner.

The difference is that I have been carefully regulating the proportion of fat, protein and carbs when I eat, and I've been following a plan that seems to be a good fit for me personally.

I'm putting the right fuel in the tank for once. No wonder the machine is running better.

It makes sense that good food, with the right nutrients and so on, would make a difference. What I never expected was the psychological difference. It's like a switch has flipped, regarding my previously insatiable appetite for terrible foods. Friends, I bought chips and all sort of things for the husband and I did not open one single bag in the car. the church-lady-neighbor stopped by to drop off church-peanut-butter-eggs and I gave them to the UPS man. (The husband is pre-diabetic, and while he'd eat those, I won't enable that.) This is huge.

I AM HAPPY IN THE BATHROOM, AND OTHER RANDOM THOUGHTS

I've realized that a definite feeling of happiness comes over me when I'm in the bathroom. Not the upstairs bathroom, or random public ones. And this has nothing to do with my gastrointestinal system. No, I'm happy specifically in the downstairs bathroom here. And I know why. It's because I cleaned the cupboard and threw out out the junk and safely disposed of outdated meds. I tossed old or poor-choice makeup. I dusted the bookcase (yes, I have a bookcase in the bathroom.) I bought two new handtowels and a squirt dispenser for hand soap. I scrubbed the walls and the floor.

++++

I am happy during breakfast. My new eating plan is working very well, but I've especially nailed it at breakfast time. I know what to do. I know what to eat. I've eliminated all of the other things entirely; I don't, anymore, think about whether or not to eat them. I'm not listing specifics here, because my answer isn't your answer, our bodies and brains are different. But, I've uncluttered Breakfast in the same way I uncluttered the downstairs bathroom. Now, it has just what I need.

++++++

Since starting this journey, my weight has gone up and down. Re-reading the things I've written, I can see how that corresponds to the various discoveries i've made along the way. This morning, I weigh 224 and I'm thrilled, because I'd spiked up to 231. But here's the thing: when I was on the way up, that 224 was for some reason particularly depressing - "Oh, my God, I weight 224, this is terrible' I suck, I'll never lose weight," etc. You know the lyrics. Now, on the way down, that 224 looks pretty darn good to me. so......it's just a number, isn't it? A mile marker.

+++++++

My goal weight is a number that would cause someone else to be extremely depressed. I'd like to weigh 160 for the remainder of my earth life. I know women who are my height who would consider themselves total failures if they weighed that much. Conversely, there are people out there who are currently working as hard as they can to reach my current weight, 224. It's just a number.

+++++

Because I've had some big breakthroughs, I've been able to lose 7 pounds in two weeks. I've never lost that much that fast. I can't continue to do so, and in fact it's probably not even in my best interest; I'm sure it's healthier to lose a little more slowly, and I know my post-diet-soda body-recalculation won't continue att his pace. But let me tell you - I can feel a difference. When you lose in tiny increments, it's not as noticeable. But this is close to a small bag of sugar at the grocery store, I know if I carried one around for two weeks, I'd sure feel the weight of it. Losing almost that much 'at once' has the opposite effect. It's encouraging.

++++++++

It's been over a week since I gave up the crutch of the Diet Coke. I still can't entirely believe i've finally done this. Let me tell you what it's like after a week: things taste different. Things like apples and carrots are suddenly incredibly sweet. And I didn't just buy a different variety or something........apples and carrots, here, come from my cold room, where they go after they're harvested. So I'm eating the same batch, there's no variable there. And, my appetite seems to be regulated. Even when I go a little longer than i'd like to without food, as happened yesterday due to some overlapping rehearsals. I was aware that I was hungry. I wanted something to eat. But that frantic, shaky, obsessive feeling wasn't there. I drove home after the rehearsal (instead of stopping for food), came inside, took the dog out for a tinkle, looked at the mail, changed clothes, and ate something. It wasn't even the first thing I did when I got home, even though I was actually hungry.

+++++

Something big and wonderful is happening, I can sense it. I have for the first time a certainty that i can accomplish this.

FORGIVING MYSELF FOR THE NEXT SCREWUP

Things have been going well for several weeks. I feel incredibly positive.

But I'm human, and fallible, and I know my own history.

I will mess up. I will make bad choices, I will give in to temptation.

I still feel strongly that my overall trajectory will now be a positive one. I have worked very hard in the last six months to understand this monster that has been dragging me down for decades and I genuinely do feel equipped to fight it now.

But I will inevitably have a setback.

As I move forward, I'm keeping that in mind, and reminding myself that when it happens - not if, but when - I'll forgive myself and get back on track.

I won't do what I've done in the past, which goes something like this: "Oh. You ate an entire jar of Nutella. You are a worthless pig of a human being who will never succeed. You will never achieve your goals, so, might as well open the chips too."

yeah, let's retire that script.

IT IS POSSIBLE THAT THIS GETS EASIER

It it too soon to make any sweeping proclamations here. And I know for sure I will have setbacks. But adjusting to a fairly radically new way of eating, i.e. one that does not involve entire bags of potato chips, has been easier in the last few days than it was a few weeks ago.

I ate my 'new normal' breakfast today. I had a rehearsal from 10-12 which ran over by about half an hour. I had a doctor's appointment at 1 pm, a twenty minutes drive from the place where we rehearsed.

Old Me would have floored it so I could get through a drive-through a lane and shoved 1800 calories of crap in my mouth before walking into the doctor's office. While, actually, thinking about what I might eat afterwards.

Today, New Me acknowledged that I'd be on a tight schedule, wouldn't have time to stop at home, and would be eating lunch on the later side.

I recognized the feeling of hunger when it happened, and I thought okay, well, it's only going to be another hour, two at the most until I get home.

When I did get home, I actually did a few quick things before getting something to eat.

You see the difference? The obsession and the frantic-ness were not there. I might have acted, today, like an actual normal person. I don't want to be one of those, other than getting this Food Monster tamed, but I suspect I have enough eccentricity left to spare.

Someone is reading this right now and thinking well, yeah, but you've figured out what works for you, and I haven't. And my answer to that is get off your butt (in the kindest way possible) and start working on it. It took me decades to figure this out......wait, wait, WAIT. It did NOT take me decades to figure this out.

It's taken me six months. It took me decades to START trying to figure this out, during which time I made a lot of excuses, half-assed attempts, and self-damaging circular thinking "I'm fat so I might as well eat this because I'm fat".

Once I got my head out of my OWN butt, and started actually paying attention, and taking notes, literally, and studying this, and talking to people, the direction changed dramatically.

I'm not done. I"m not 'fixed'. If this is an addiction like other kinds, perhaps there's no such thing as a forever fix and I will have to be diligent for the rest of my life. But things are different now for me than they were when I started. I am changing my thought process from "I can do this" to "I AM DOING THIS."

You can too.

IT'S A BAD DAY AND A GOOD DAY - BOTH AT ONCE

I've been doing really well for several weeks. Because I overthink everything, I've been worried about what would happen when I hit a really bad day.

And today I got to find out.

Now, my bad day is no worse than the bad days that you have. This isn't a pity party, and it's not a contest. We all deal with shit.

But it's a bad one, on both a physical and emotional level, I get these injections every three months of a pretty nasty substance which is hopefully convincing my freaked out immune system to stop attacking the joints in my body. Yesterday was my third one, and I've learned that the 48 hours after the injection is pretty much like having the flu, in terms of feeling like you've been run over by a truck.

Food is always my go-to for comfort when I feel like crap, unless I'm actively puking, and even then, I probably used to think about it anyway.

The emotional downside of the day involves someone else's terrible news and it's not my story to tell, even in a relatively anonymous forum. But, it's really terrible, and I'm stalking facebook looking for updates from the mutual friends who are at the hospital with her. I'm immuno-suppressed, especially right after the injection, and can't be there.

But here's the thing: I'm not overeating. Yes, this is a shitty day, for a variety of reasons. Yes, I have thought about comfort food. Yes, there is that sort of food right here in the house.

And yet, I'm not eating.

By not eating, i mean I'm not stuffing my face with bad things I can't even taste but can't stop shoving into my mouth. I ate regular meals today, balanced meals, in reasonable amounts. I have felt hungry, generally fairly close to the next time I eat, but it is not making me crazy. i ate enough to feel reasonably sated but not stuffed. I could have eaten more, I chose not to. I could actually choose.

This fascinates me. Baffles me. Despite spending the last seven months focusing on this problem, investing in some maybe-helpful-maybe-not therapy, reading book after book, writing, walking, everything I can think of, I'm still surprised to discover that, simply, something is working.

Here is what 'working' looks like. (Since it's so unfamiliar to me, I think it might be for you, too.)

"Working" means I'm having thoughts like this:

"Wow, today sucks. Those chocolate chip muffins look good. But I don't really want one all that much. I don't want to wake up the Cravings Monster, because she is a miserable bitch and don't want that level of crap added to the day. I'm going to have salmon and veggies for lunch in 45 minutes. It's not worth undoing all the hard work from the last few weeks just to - "

And at this point, literally, I am distracted by a Shiny Object of some sort, something caught my eye or the phone rang, I can't remember, and next thing I knew it was time for lunch.

That doesn't happen to me. I mean, it didn't, before. Distracted from being hungry? Ha. Before, I'd have eaten an entire bag of Cheese Puffs WHILE I DECIDED WHAT TO EAT, as if the cheese puffs didn't even count. At some point, i would have looked down and seen that i was holding an empty cheese puff bag, and I would have wondered "how on earth did THAT happen?" And then, probably, I would have eaten ice cream.

Friends, my day sucked. But for the first time, I've gotten through a really, really sucky day without overeating. And now, knowing that this is possible, I will wake up tomorrow knowing that I can get through the day no matter where it falls on the suckometer. I would do a happy dance if a single muscle in my body was not exhausted from the medications. But that will pass.

I will have more bad days. I might fail sometimes. There is a lot of work ahead of me, and there are things happening that i can't control. But I am seeing daylight now, and I really believe I will not spend the rest of my life in the grips of this addiction.

ONE CLEAN THING

Although I finally feel that I'm on the right track, I'd dug myself quite a large hole - oh, too many metaphors. This is what happens when i try not to use the word 'clusterfuck'. The reality is, that's the best word to describe my life, although even while struggling, I'm also happy.......maybe it's a 'glorious clusterfuck'. At any rate, there's still room for improvement. A lot of room.

I took a step today, by borrowing my younger son's carpet-cleaning / upholstery cleaning vacuum. Now, just the fact that this man OWNS one of these things probably tells you a lot about my beautiful, organized, tidy, right-brain engineer child. (The other one is more like me, and I love them both dearly.)

I can keep it for four days.

So, using the principles of triage, I treated the most severely wounded first. In this case, it's the sofa that I gravitate to when i'm reading, but which everyone in this house knows is occupied by a large, smelly, hairy dog the minute there's no one around to see him. And things have reached the point where the sofa stinks, and I swear you can smell it when you walk into the house.

Can we just say that this was a horrifying as well as illuminating experience? I mean, we're talking six cycles of wash and rinse here, and the water was still coming up looking like thick coffee, Which is not surprisingly; in addition to the essence of wet dog, the sofa probably held its weight in spilled coffee, diet Coke from my former diet-Coke-addition days, various fluids from leaking grandchildren, and just plain dirt. Because I really should strip on the back porch on farm work days and shower before I get inside, but I never do. So there was a lot of potting soil in there too, I'm sure.

It took hours, and now........now the house smells entirely different. The dog is baffled. He's walking around the house in circles carrying his favorite toy and looking forlorn.

I'm not going to go all crazy suburban housewife and put a sheet over the sofa, I mean, I got it at Goodwill for $25 eight years ago. The cleaning fluid for this vacuum probably cost more than that.

But, now, let's get down to business, Why am I wasting your time with my booger-covered couch story?

Because this one little thing, this one clean thing, this one change, has made me feel good. Good inside my heart. Good in the kind of way that makes you think hay, what else could I do? What other small change could make such a big difference?

And, more to the point, my immediate goal is to not eat between lunch and dinner. Snacks may work for some people, but I know, now, that I personally need to separate Eating and Not Eating. Allowing snacks just made the whole day one seamless foodfest. I have done well with this. but today I'm having a hard time. It's not physical - I had a good lunch. But pre-sofa-cleaning, I was starting to struggle. I wanted to eat All The Things, and I was fantasizing about some really bad choices.

Now I'm not. I feel okay. Part of it certainly was the distraction. But part of it is the accomplishment, the One Clean Thing.

Depression is an element of addiction. We all know that. It's different for everyone in terms of intensity and how it manifests. In my case, it's not readily apparent. I'm not withdrawn, or quiet, or sad. Notice in the first paragraph i described myself as happy, and I truly think that I am - but of course, what do I know? Maybe there's better days ahead. Maybe my standards are just low.

My depression takes the form of shitty self-care, and that extends to my house. We're not talking health hazard level, or hoarder territory, but it flirts with the edges sometimes. Dishes don't get done right away. The counter and stove could use a wipe. Clothes get washed and folded but never put away. And my organization is off the charts awful. It always looks like I've been battling poltergeists in here.

So this clean sofa is actually a big deal.

One of the huge sucks of dealing with an addiction is that it's so damned hard to find a measurable thing to do. You can't really cross 'don't eat' off a list. You get so ramped up to make a positive change, but the thing you have to Do is actually a Don't, and that's hard, because now where does all this positive energy go? I've been walking a lot to get in better shape, and that's great, but I can only walk so far. Now, it's spring (okay, it's not remotely spring-like out there, but you know what I mean) and I'm going to start cleaning and organizing things. It's all part of the healing. And I can cross it off a list.

But first, I need to go console that poor bewildered dog.

YOU DO YOU. The Rest of Us Will Just Love You.

There was a logical, but flawed progression in my thinking: I'll figure out this stupid addiction for once and for all. I'll beat it. Then I'll share my story in the form of a book and help other people do the same thing.

Here's the flaw:

I hate it when people tell me what to do. No, that's not the best way to explain it.

I hate it when people don't realize that one size doesn't fit all, more specifically.

I don't mind someone telling me what to do if they're an expert and I'm not. I don't mind someone telling me what to do if they can back it up with science. But God save me from the people who think they know what I should do simply because of their own experience.

Let me tell you about a dear friend - he really is wonderful, I treasure this person. But, he's lost a huge amount of weight, and now he knows exactly what I should do. He also knows that there's no such thing as a food addiction, because he doesn't have one.

See the problem?

And the people on the internet, the people who KNOW they have all the answers.....well, don't get me started.

I'll write the book, but it's not going to have answers in it. Because I only know my own.

There's two new posts on our forum in the last few days, both young people, both (I assume women), and the common thread is heartbreaking: they don't feel 'worth it'. One spoke eloquently of anorexia taking away her sense of self-worth. I felt tears welling up as I read it.

And naturally, I felt like I should help.

But let's go back to my friend. He thinks he's helping me. I'm sure his intentions are the best. He'll say "well, just don't eat so much, it's not that hard.' He truly doesn't GET it.

I don't get anorexia. Not from a first person perspective. I know it's complicated as hell. I know it can be deadly.

I haven't any idea what to say to those young women, at least not in the sense of providing The Answer.

I think that's another factor in our slow traffic here. I think most people who come to this forum realize this. There aren't one-size-fits-all answers. And we know it. And these are life and death situations, and we don't want to blow it. Also, I'm well aware that beautiful young persons are not necessarily looking to frumpy grandmother types like me for advice. This is not a criticism - they're finding their own way, and we all did the same thing. I'm really hoping some younger people join in those conversations so they know there's people out there just like them who are struggling with this, and that they're not alone.

I think one some level I was hoping that whatever the outcome of my journey eventually is - hopefully a book - that it would have some real answers.

But I also think that deep down I always knew that it wouldn't. Battling an addiction is like parenting or being in love in the sense that it's a different experience for everyone.

So, isn't there anything at all that we can do?

I think there is. This will inform the structure of the book I write, but it's also relevant right now, here, on our forum.

I think all we can really truly do is tell our story, genuinely listen, and love people.

We own our stories, They are ours. We've earned them. They are worth sharing. And while our journey may differ from someone else's, sharing our stories is valid for two reasons: it lets the reader or listener know they're not alone, and it may, possibly, provide an aha! moment.

I don't know how to genuinely listen in a book format, but I know in real life it's pretty much the most important thing you can do.

And the loving part, well, that sounds so fluffy and idealistic and unicorns and rainbows and utopian and Pollyanna-ish and naive and.........let me think of other criticism that have been hurled my way at times. But the thing is - the thing is, I'm right. It's the part of us that makes us sacred, that connects us to whatever Else is out there, that transcends all obstacles. And it's in short supply right now, it seems. Or at least, it can seem that way when you're battling an addiction.

Those of us who struggle with addiction feel on some level that we aren't worth fixing. We think we're going to fail anyway, so why bother. We think we don't really truly matter to anyone. We think we've failed miserably and there's no hope of changing it.

My breakthrough moment fighting this addiction came when I dealt with that. Not when i started walking or added ore protein to breakfast or declared the computer a no-food-zone or any of those things which were all, in their own way, helpful steps. But, I'd tried all those steps before. The difference this time is that I've got a handle on this whole unworthiness-failure-guilt thing.

I think the simple message we can all share is this "You are worth it." I think that one precedes "You can do this". Because if you don't think you're worth it, why would you even try?

People, we've got work to do.

katie - I certainly do hope you write that book..this journal you've written is so helpful to those of us who read it. I like it because you DON't give advice - you just share. Thank you for taking the time to post....today I am reflecting heavily on your point of "unworthiness-failure-guilt"...might have just had an "aha" moment.

THIS GUILT / UNWORTHINESS / FAILURE THING

Let's follow up on the comment above, just a little bit.

I firmly believe that understanding (and then breaking) the downward spiral of unworthiness-failure-guilt is vital to our success breaking this addiction.

Without that understanding, we're just going to remain stuck.

Without that understanding, it doesn't matter if we substitute fruit for candy, we're still going to overeat. Or we'll stop overeating, but we'll start drinking.
We're still going to be bent on self-destruction, and if we change a bad habit, we'll simply find a way to replace it with another one.

(Not that changing bad habits isn't a good thing. I'm a fan. But, it needs that context, it needs that bigger picture.)

To recap it, we start somewhere on this circle - it doesn't matter where exactly, since it just keeps repeating.

We fail. We feel bad about that. We think it's hopeless. We think we aren't worth the effort, really. And then we fail. Over and over again. We stand at the fridge eating ice cream and crying. Again and again. We do this in secret, and that makes us feel even more alone and guilty. Sometimes we hesitate to even make eye contact with people, because we think they know, they suspect, how awful we really are.

That's the merry go round of addiction, and that's what ultimately has to change.

Imagine that the circle is a chain, made of metal links. (And it IS a chain, isn't it? Right around our necks.) Each of us must find the weakest link(s) and work on those. Because once it's broken, we're halfway there.

Here's the new part that I want to add today, though, that's become clear to me after reading the most recent posts from our newest members.

OUR HEALING MUST BE DONE IN COMMUNITY

Oh, no, you say. Oh, gack. I can't do it, I can't share. I can't say the words. It's too hard. I'm not that kind of person.

(obviously I am not talking about myself here because God knows I have no trouble coming up with words. Many, many words. But the truth is, I was stuck right there for the longest time.)

Now, there is an argument to be made for the power of honesty and sharing and support and all that stuff, and I believe all of that, but I want to take an entirely different approach right now. All of those things focus on how the community can benefit you, and seriously, it's all important, but let's look at this differently.

You need to heal in community because THE COMMUNITY NEEDS YOU.

First, let's define 'community'. It could be this forum, but it could just as easily be an in-person support group, or an informal group of friends.

Second, let's address what you're thinking right now, which is along these lines: "But I'm still fucked up. I haven't beaten my addiction. How can I possibly have anything to offer?"

Okay, Grab a fresh cup of coffee and stay with me here.

In the past two days, two young people have posted heartfelt introductory posts, posts that clearly took them some effort to write, posts that are laden with hurt and honesty and raw emotion. And both of them reference this feeling of hopelessness or unworthiness at some point.

Unless you are a total asshole of a human being, and you are not, you read those posts and your heart ached for them, You read those posts and you thought no, no, you're only twenty something / thirty something, you have your whole life ahead of you, you are beautiful, you can change the course of this, you have so much to offer, your worth doesn't hinge on the scale, you deserve love. You read those posts, and you wanted to hug the writer and offer reassurance and love. Am I right? Yes?

And while both of them may at some point benefit from advice like "portion out your food" or whatever, we all realized that the very first thing they need to hear is that they're worth it, right? They need that context first.

So we're agreed? Then, I have three points to make.

One: THEN GO AHEAD AND SAY THOSE THINGS. These people need you. Not just the two recent posters - people genuinely truly NEED you. Keep your eyes open, and you'll see it everywhere. The cashier in the grocery store has been on her feet all day. Your mechanic has had people bitch at him about their bills all day. The receptionist at the doctor's office just spent hours on the phone dealing with someone's insurance company. You run into your best friend at the mall and her teenage daughter is staring sullenly at the floor because she thinks she's the ugliest girl on the planet and no one will ever love her. The guy in the next cubicle knows his partner's abusing prescription meds and doesn't know what to do about it. everyone's got pain, everyone's got a story.

I don't meant hat you should be nosy and intrusive. I don't mean that you should be fake. But can you tell me that never once in your life has a random positive comment helped you out? I remember one very clearly. My mother's best friend, Rose, once looked at me while she and my mother were doing their coffee and cigarette thing at the kitchen table, and she said, out of the blue, "You're going to be beautiful someday. You have great cheekbones and a really expressive face." (For the record, I'm still waiting,) But I remember what I was wearing that day and that it didn't fit right because I didn't have any boobs yet, but Mary Margaret Callahan did, and she was the alpha female in sixth grade, and made my life at school hell, even though in all honesty she probably didn't even realize I was in her class, it was probably just me making comparisons. I remember that I hadn't yet gotten my braces off, and had thick glasses. Understand, we are talking more than forty years ago. Closer to fifty now. And I still remember that. I want to be Rose for someone else.

So look for those opportunities. People don't need smoke blown up their asses. They don't need a big gushing speech and unicorn dust and Kum Ba Yah. But they do need love. Eye contact. A smile. They need to know they're not alone. (Feeling alone is a big, big part of food addition, isn't it?)

Just letting someone know that you hear them, that you understand, that you'll stay beside them while they sort things out - guys, that's why we're here. The non-addict world needs you, but your brothers and sisters who are battling this addiction in particular need to hear your voice.

TWO: DOING THIS WILL WEAKEN YOUR CHAIN. Your chain of guilt-unworthiness-hopelessness is strangling you. Reaching out to other people, even in tiny ways, will stretch that sucker to the point that the links start to thin out and become vulnerable, and then you can snap those little bastards in half. Look, what's the instinctive reaction we have when we face the enormity of our addiction? We want to hide, shut ourselves off from people, become a hermit. But we need to do exactly the opposite thing. Be of service. Volunteer somewhere. Or simply write kind things when you see the opportunity. You cannot go pack boxes at the local food bank for three hours or walk some dogs at the Humane Society and still think you're a worthless human being. Already doing those things? Then stop for a minute and realize that you're making a difference.

THREE: TAKE THAT MESSAGE OF KINDNESS TO THE MIRROR.

This part is key, but it's built on the other two. You can't do this one first, but it's only a short step to get from the starting point to here. Think of our two new posters, and how we all want to envelop them in kindness and reassure them of their self-worth. Imagine it's your next door neighbor. sharing in confidence that he or she has a problem to fight but just doesn't have the energy because that central believe in his or her self-worth is shot to hell. You'd say the things. You would. You know you would. And you'd mean them.

But we don't say these things about ourselves. You see the disparity here? You simply cannot believe that a hypothetical sixteen year old who hates her life because she's binge eating has beauty and potential and worth, and then not think of yourself the same way, You just can't.

So for the love of all that's holy, my friend, go look in the mirror and say those things to yourself right now. Why on earth would you believe all these kind things about someone you've never met, but not grant yourself that same grace?

We are worth fixing. We are worth fixing BECAUSE we are part of a community, and the community needs Roses. You can be someone's Rose. You can say that one small thing that will be remembered fifty years later. you can say that one thing that will make someone think "oh.....wait......maybe............maybe I really CAN." Before you go to bed tonight, you can say or write or do one small thing that will make things better for someone else. And once you've done that, you see, you're valuable, you have value, you have a purpose. And once you see yourself as that valuable person, that person with a job to do, then it gets easier to go from breakfast to lunch without four candy bars. It really does.

This is how we heal, friends.

I SURE HOPE THIS DOESN'T END UP ON YOUTUBE

Breakthrough today. For the first time in months, literally, I trusted myself to walk down the snack food aisle at the grocery store.

I've been perimeter-shopping for months, as the healthiest foods are generally found on the outside of the store. The husband has been deputized to go buy his own damn Twinkies and chips; it's his decision to eat them, but I'm no longer enabling him (he's pre-diabetic and stubborn).

And most of our food actually comes from the farm, so I'm not in stores as often as many people. But today, I had to walk down the Aisle of Munch, because it's my job to pick up some snacks for an upcoming family getaway this weekend.

We all have our own trigger foods, and several of mine lurk in that aisle. There is one specific kind of potato chip that, well, if I had to choose between it and sex, I'd have to think pretty hard, you know?

Anyway, I have not had a food binge for more than two months now. I've had a few small slip ups, but we're talking things like getting seconds of the main course at home when I'm truly not that hungry - things like that, where I'm still not really listening to what my body needs. My slip ups now are more like fine tuning, and not the kind that make you want to cry.

Overall, I really feel that I've turned a significant corner.

So, I'm in the grocery store, and I start down that aisle. And there they are, Martin's kettle-cooked chips, made just an hour away from here, in their shiny happy bag, salty and delicious and evil.

"I don't love you anymore," I thought. "I don't need you. I really don't. You were no good for me. I thought you were. But you lied. And I know you now for who you really are. And I can walk away from you. You are scum. You make promises of happiness but it just led to heartbreak. We're finished."

I was pretty caught up in the emotion of the moment. I was reveling in the freedom. I mean, I used to buy one bag of the damn things just to eat in the car on the way home from the grocery store, then I'd hide two more bags in the pantry for myself for later, and put a fourth bag on the counter, all look-I-bought-you-chips-honey, hoping there were no crumbs still on my shirt. To walk past them without even picking up a bag? This is a THING, people. This is a thing to CELEBRATE.

Then I heard a soft cough behind me and a rich, deep woman's voice said "You go, girlfriend."

Apparently I'd said it all out loud. My whole little speech breaking up with Martin's potato chips. Out loud. I turn around and there's a lovely African-American woman laughing, but not in a mean way at all. And she takes a bag of Doritos out of her cart and puts it back on the shelf and says to me "You just gave me strength!" and she sailed off to another aisle and we did not cross paths again.

The takeaway from this? Don't take yourself too seriously. Humans are ridiculous creatures. We will do ridiculous things. We, as a food-addict community, get our panties in a knot about control, a lot. It's time to shrug that off. Did I look like an fool? Yep. Was I, all silliness aside, being honest and open? Yes. Is it possible that my unexpected audience might even change some of her own behavior as a result of our encounter today? Who knows. Maybe she will. Maybe she changed her mind and circled back and picked that bag of Doritos up again, went home and told her partner about the fool yelling at potato chips in the grocery store. Maybe she filmed it on her phone and it will show up on Youtube. Try searching for 'crazy woman' and 'chips'.

COPING IN THE REAL WORLD

I believe that one reason I've been successful for the last few months is that I have the luxury of being very self-centered, in a positive sort of way: the winter allows me more time to exercise, there's only two of us here so I can pretty much purchase food and cook for my own needs with only a few small tweaks for the husband (adding carbs to what I'm making that fits my plan.) I can keep food out of sight. While I have responsibilities, they've mostly been things that can wait a minute or two for my convenience.

I have a real challenge right now. And I need to stress first that I'm not the center of the universe, nor am I the center of this story. We're in a bit of upheaval here right now because my daughter-in-law's father just died. So she, my son, and their three little ones are here for a week, possibly two weeks, until the various arrangements are made, and the logistical things are finished up.

It is a high stress time for everyone involved, and my job is to be calm anchor in the storm. Two of the three little ones have a grasp of what's happened, and they're sad, and having trouble sleeping, and also generally wound up because they're here. The littlest is a toddler-sized tsunami of nonstop speed and energy and chaos, My daughter in law is simultaneously relieved (this has been a long, slow illness situation for her dad) and angry (he was putting off a heart valve replacement which may have helped enormously) and overwhelmed (he and his wife were hoarders, in a genteel, non-messy kind of way.....just a LOT of stuff to deal with). And of course, just plain grieving. My son, who is a rock, is torn between wanting to help her, wanting to help deal with the kids, and needing to put in some cyber-hours at work, and of course dealing with his own sadness.

So they are the center of the story, and the center of my attention at the moment.

But you and I, we are talking about the food problem. You know, the Food Problem. So we'll talk about that right now.

For the last few months, I've been able to control my environment and my relationship with food in a way that has been unusual in my life. We haven't eaten out much, and when we have, I've been able to look menus up on line first and think ahead about what to order. I buy the groceries. The husband will stop and pick up junk food, but I've been able to ignore that.

But now, here's what's happening. The kids had just finished a huge CostCo run when the call came about my daughter in law's dad. Figuring that we'd be able to use the groceries with five extra mouths, and not wanting fresh food and milk to spoil, they pretty much brought all of that food here. Then, people started bringing food, in the way that loving friends and neighbors do after a loss. And yesterday, after day 1 of starting to deal with the now empty house, my son came back with three coolers full of food from the freezers and fridge there. Plus several boxes of pantry food, most of which ran to sugary things.

For the last two months - essentially since this same family of five left after Christmas vacation - I have done a great job of eating three times a day, and not snacking. Now I've got three growing grandchildren here who eat an amazing amount of food. and who are accustomed to regular snacks. Nearly everything they eat is healthy. But I'm feeling a tiny bit panicky right now. Every time I turn around, there is food. Someone is always eating.

My son is well aware that he has a much higher income than his dad and I do, and he's always very thoughtful about picking up a case of beer, or a few bottles of wine, when they visit without making a big deal of it. So that's here too, and they've brought back unopened bottles of wine from her Dad's house.

There is an insane amount of food here. It is not mine to deal with; it's not like I can pack it up and take it to the Food Bank. Some of it may end up there, but that's my daughter in law's decision to make, not mine. And she's been running around dealing with the leftover prescription meds, the bank accounts, the credit cards, the funeral home, all those things. My house is a sort of a staging area for things that need to be sorted and dispersed, and that's fine.......except that all this food is here. In front of me.

It's not escaping me that my last post was about being able to give up control and just roll with things, just figure out how to live a normal life that is not controlled by food.

I want to be as helpful as I can. I wish i could be packing up clothing for Goodwill, or doing something like that, but my daughter in law and her brother have to make other decisions first. I can't help with the legal things. All I can do right now, is be in full grandmother mode, and make them good dinners, and keep things calm here, and keep the little ones busy.

But, that means food is in my face ALL THE TIME right now. The kitchen counter has all sorts of baked goods that people dropped off. All the food the kids brought is falling out of the fridge. I can't even count how many bags of evil crunchy things are in that kitchen. The grandkids wake up and start eating toast or bagels and yogurt and cereal and fruit, and then they ask what's actually for breakfast, because that's apparently just, you know, a warmup. Or maybe they're Hobbits and they have First Breakfast and Second Breakfast. I should add that all three are thin and wiry and in nonstop motion all day. No couch potatoes here.

We are eating long dinners with wine and stories because by the end of a long day sorting through paperwork and photos and writing the obituary and all those things, that's what my son and daughter in law need. They are stopping for takeout pizza and bringing it home after a late night spent making sure the late father in law's utilities are paid and all those things you have to do.

So, I'm surrounded by food, and I can't control my exposure to it.

But......this is what I've been training for, right? Isn't the whole purpose of getting better to be able to cope with the real world? Isn't that our goal? We want to have food be fuel, and something that we can enjoy, but not something that controls our lives, right?

My last two months, in which I have worked hard on new habits, has been successful, but a certain percentage of that success is owed to having a fairly rigid control of the environment. I'm happy with my success, but it's sort of like a nun in a cloistered convent being happy that she hasn't had sex with a man, you know? There's two levels to this: there's doing the right thing, and then there's doing the right thing when there's a lot of temptation around you.

I've done a good job for over two months now in doing the right things.

Now I get to practice that in a situation with more temptation.

I would have, personally, preferred easing into the temptations more slowly. But here we are, so I need to woman-up and deal with it. The first 48 hours were just a blur when they arrived, but now things are starting to settle - the kids are all napping right now so I could take a moment on the computer - and I'm going to adjust to this.

Stress-eating won't make anything better, and I don't want to undo all the work I've done for the last two and a half months. Stress-eating will make me feel bloated and cranky and slow, and my family needs me right now.

This is a chance to see how I can do in the real world, with temptation all around me. I can do this.