I'm an addict in so many ways I couldn't even begin to tell you. It plays a part in every aspect of my world. I'm 11 years clean and sober, but it doesn't mean the demon won't find ways of attaining delight where it can.
The addicted brain loves trauma, drama and pain. To the addicted brain, having a problem is like a child looking out the window shouting, "Snow day!!!!!!" and pulling out the sleigh. And just like a kid with a face of glee, we slide with exhilaration, faster and faster down that slope.
Satisfaction to the addict inside of me means I suffer in other ways. Right now, being that depressing time of year, my bane is cookies. It's inevitable. Food I would never touch 48 weeks of the year is fair game during that 'X-mas' low. I'm not a fan of this time of year, even when life is at it's best. Every 'X-mas' the binge happens and I battle to keep it in control by consuming boxes and boxes of mandarin oranges.
Goddamn it! I did so well at flushing my system with healthy raw veggies yesterday, because I had binged the day before on wheat filled cookies and tarts. I worked hard at keeping the sugar cravings down to a minimum by eating those easy peelable, oh so sweet oranges. I really did do well.
Until the movie.
What is it about movies that make us want to snack on bad food? Most of us have been programmed into thinking that the moment we commit to those 2 or so hours of indulging fantasy, we must actively be gnawing our jaws, giving our taste buds gratification and filling our wanting stomaches that may not even be hungry! And we certainly don't reach for the healthy stuff, we want comfort food. It's ingrained into us from a young age.
Well there I was, having finished a pleasantly healthy salad, I settled in for a festive movie. It's my absolute favourite at this time of year: 'Black Christmas'. On the first commercial I strolled to the kitchen like a habitual zombie in search of the treat that would go very well with the aged slasher flick. I could have reached for a number of healthy options, but what did I grab?
Cookies. They were wheat free, but they still had sugar, that other blissful poison. These are designer cookies from a health oriented store, so they're marketed to be a little better for you. They fool you, oh yes they do.
Because they're fancy, these million dollar gems only come in a package of 6. This is a blessing and a let down at the same time. I grabbed 3. I thought I'd be able to eat this as the maximum amount. Well ... like a rat in a science experiment, I gravitated back to the rest of them and said, "What the hell. It's only 3 more."
On the next commercial break, I ruefully added up the calories: 848 delectable, evil calories. I sunk into self loathing while I looked down at my thighs. My eyes instantly saw my thighs grow twice the size they were before the cookies. Good old eating disorder strikes again.
There I was looking to the next day, "I'm going to exercise tomorrow!" even though I am told by my physio that right now I'm not allowed to do my usual exercise due to the flair up in my back that has dogged me for 2 years post-motorcycle accident.
But oh how the teenager is back in full force. Stomping her temper tantrum feet she yelled, "I don't care if they told me not to, I'm doing it anyway!!!!"
Wow. Great plan. Harm my back more to make up for the goody bender I've been implementing for 3 days. Who wins? I couldn't tell you.
There's so much going on right now I can't even pinpoint where the weakness to drive me to binge is coming from. Take your pick: my love is going through a male transition, Papi and I are living with very few of our belongings in a skeleton of a house due to a sewage flood, my back is aching 24-7 because of a fall a month ago, I have no income coming in because I'm not working because of said fall, ICBC and WCB are fighting over who is responsible to cover me for financial support (meanwhile giving me nothing), it's Christmas (ugh) and I have never felt so alone in all my life.
Right now, my head feels like the teenager is running around in circles, arms outstretched above her head with fingers reaching to the sky in an effort to pull in the sunshine, all the while screaming at the top of her lungs in non-worded utters just to get someone's attention so they may help the madness settle.
Is there a magic wand? A super-human pill? A fairy god-mother? Anyone?
It doesn't help not being able to work. Working would take my mind off all these 'little' issues. Instead I'm stuck on house arrest, walking on floors that we could potentially fall through into the basement. It could be like a scene from a movie just for trying to get to the washroom. Can I tell you how lovely it is when you're sitting on the toilet and you can see the workers below you?
This is a playground for insanity, and what is the only thing going through my head? "I only have a few more cookies left in the house until they're gone." Typical addict in the throws of obsession.
When the cookies have left the building, I'll be forced to get back on track, because I'll only have the veggies left to eat and I'm out of money to go buy treats. I can eat myself into a frenzy with snap peas, salads and steamed greens.
But hey! Because my love is on a break from testosterone, I haven't cried for 2 days. 2 days folks! I suppose I've exchanged the obsession grieving over my love's male transformation decision for food infatuation.
Whatever works, eh?