Another Addict's Aspirations

It's hard for me to read certain blogs that my friends write about food. As an addict, I have a hard time reading that some people don't think they have an addiction with food, but they keep getting fatter, are pre-diabetic or diabetic, are on the verge or have had a heart attack and continue to have a constant, incessant monologue obsessing over food. It's hard for me to read that, because that is how I write when I eat compulsively.

I want to support friends who feel that it's just their "bad attitude" or that they were being "bad", in the way with which they engaged with food. I've heard all the reasons why today is not the right day for my so-called "Nazi" food program. If these friends could understand internally the freedom that I now feel because I don't have the obsession with the food, they might feel differently.

This is what my conversation sounded like before I was abstinent:
"I really shouldn't be eating this.
I've got to be strong.
Well, Maybe just a little won't hurt.
I've had a bad day and I deserve a bit of a break.
Fuck those who think I am ugly because I have a bit of girth. In renaissance times, they liked real women. Sexism and the media suck.
I will have that brownie and some ice cream for all the jerks who want to minimize me.
I am not an addict. not a bad one. I have a home, a job, a partner. I am not in the gutter.
I wonder if anyone will notice if I have a second brownie.
Maybe I'll help with the "clean-up",
I hate to toss food away..."

The amazing thing is that I NO LONGER have this conversation. It just doesn't exist. My worth is not based on food. I am neither good or bad. I am not in dialogue with the food. I now get my weighed and measured meal from the list of foods that don't make me crazy when I eat them, I commit them to my sponsor, and eat them while I have a dialogue with the person who sits and eats with me. There are no thoughts of what I should or shouldn't have afterward. It's done. I am released. My food is delicious. I can actually be present enough to taste it.

I am not judging those who struggle with food. I understand it's the disease that speaks. Or maybe, they really aren't addicts and they can manage their life just fine, thank you very much. I pray that they are not like me. I hope that they don't have food and health issues that keep them hating themselves. Or that stop them from moving towards happiness and connection. I hope they can just go to weight watchers or regular OA and maintain a healthy weight for the rest of their lives. I hope they don't need the spiritual tools of the program to help them take a look at why they've eaten or to help them see what is their character flaws and how to work with them. Maybe unlike me, they really don't need to deal with devastating rage or despair, loneliness and confusion. I really pray that they are not like me.

But if they are, then I pray for the Divine to intervene and please grant them the desperation to come to my program. To come to the place of sanity after they've done their research and failed. To come in and hold hands with the rest of us who know that our will is what we had to give up in order to get a life.

So to all that are still struggling, please know that when I get a little anxious when I invite you to a meeting and you aren't ready, it's not because I am mad at you or think you are "bad", I just want you to stay my friend for a really long time and I'd really love to see you loving yourself first and foremost.

Viva La Valentine's Day Daily!

Valentine's Day. The morning after. Nope. It doesn't feel like a hangover. Or a chocolate-induced fog clouding my head. I don't have a new sparkler on my finger or a new teddy bear ready to eat some dust. What I do get to witness is a soundly asleep, soft body, breathing synchronously with the raindrops pelting our bedroom window. I get to feel morning breath warming my back. Frankly See's Candies have nothing on this.

I woke up early, as it happens so often these days, between my overstimulated, over-occupied Jewish brain, which, like New York City, never sleeps and my peri-menopausal hormones that believe that 5 hours of sleep is plenty for an aging crustacean like me. This is a blessed time that, I believe, was given to me by the universe, not coincidentally. It is a time for contemplation, for a dialogue with my Divine. A possible connection with you. A time to be with myself, exploring, what is this all about, Alfie?

Leading up to yesterday, I was faced with some challenges and confusion. I already schedule naughty, wily kidnappings of my partner, already make gourmet meals from far and near reaches of the Earth brought into bed; already barter with the best-darn aesthetician for facials for her; I often bring her sprays of roses, buckets of bougainvillea, bouquets of Lavender,rosemary and sage. And those happen just because. On a Wednesday. or a Thursday.

So the pressure and expectation for Valentine's day baffles me. Who is this holiday for? Some schmuck who, once a year, needs a reminder to buy you flowers? or is it for you, yourself, to sit in the waiting tower, weighing your worth or love-ability on whether you get anything from anyone . What a set-up.

What if we did something radical - treat every day as Valentine's day? Write poems or even e-mails telling people we love why we love them on a Tuesday; What if we took all of our Halloween candy, bagged it into individually wrapped morsels and attached a sparkly note that said " Hello, may your day be sweet! From a human who cares!" What if you decided to round up all the stuff you absconded with from various hotels, miniature soaps and conditioners, lotions and, from your sock drawer, all the non-matching ones and make those into love bundles to give to the guys who live under the freeway? There are so many love acts that could be done easily, cheaply, thoughtfully.

What are you waiting for? There is a world out there to love. If you think you can get buzzed from a glass of champagne or high on a sugar rush from a 5 LBS. chocolate heart, wait till you taste the sweetness of expected kindness. It's orgasmic. xox