I turned myself in last week. It had to be done. It was only a matter of time until they found me, and took me, and made me responsible for what I had done. In truth, I was relieved when I was finally in the building and gave myself up. I had expected that the woman “I just knew it would be a woman,” behind the glass partition would smirk, or sneer, or at least speak to me with a tone of sarcastic reproach before she told me how much trouble I was in. She did not do any of those things – well, except for telling me how much trouble I was in. But, I reminded myself while it was all going on, that is her job. The financial cost was actually less than I had expected – only $15.00. And she didn’t even make me stand there while she inventoried all of the stolen goods. She just took the bag of loot that I surrendered to her, charged me the fifteen bucks, and asked me to get undressed. In hindsight, the decision to get undressed might have been mine. It is just a habit, an instinct in these situations for me to start shedding my clothes. It didn’t help much, and in reality I guess I should have kept the clothes on, at least for this meeting with her. The next time I need to go in front of her, or some other woman behind the glass partition, I’ll probably need to take even more off. Finally she told me the words I had dreaded to hear – actually it was a number – 21 to be exact. 21 pounds above my “goal” weight.
My surrendered items consisted of the treasured and closely guarded top secret information that only people who work for this particular international weight loss program have access to. I ran exactly one “meeting” for this dynasty during my period of employment, received my check for $17.54 “after taxes” and soon realized that I was not the man for the job. They agreed, contacting me soon afterward and “gently” requested that I return all the afore mentioned material ASAP. That was 10 or 11 months ago.
I in no weigh “sorry, I couldn’t resist,” mean to belittle, or criticize this organization. In fact, it has been the only effective tool for me to get a handle “not to mention losing a few handles” on my lifelong dysfunctional relationship with food. This program works – at least for me. And I was so impressed with my results that I made it a goal to reach “target weight” and then to achieve “lifetime member” status so that I could take the employee training courses – only those who make it to “lifetime member” are allowed into the clandestine training rooms that exist behind the iron curtain of this firm. And that is the part I think is funny – the secrecy. I was, in fact, mandated to sign documents stating that I would never – in this life or the next – share any of the information that I acquired in those rooms. This seemed only fair, and I reminded myself that others, on the other end of the watching weight spectrum were probably signing similar documents at that very moment stating they would never reveal The Colonel’s top secret chicken recipe. So I figured this was reasonable. It is, after all, a war – a war not only for our percentage of personal body fat, but for our overall health, and in my case, the hardest addiction to balance.
I use humor because my issues with food, and weight, and eating for all the wrong reasons are embarrassing, and I would rather joke about them than to talk openly. But I’ll try to drop the humor, at least for this paragraph: food addiction is real. I know, because it was my first, and longest lasting. The reason is simple – I have to have “some”. We all do. Unlike most other addictions to alcohol, illicit drugs, gambling, or pornography, it is not an all or nothing proposition. We need sustenance to survive. I can do all or nothing quite well. For me, the idea of a spoonful, or one cookie, or a small taste of anything is as foreign and unappealing as suggesting that I pay admission to a fun park and only go on one ride. Go big or go home, baby! So it is no wonder that my attempts, my hundreds, perhaps thousands of attempts in the past to establish a better relationship with food have involved simply cutting certain foods, or certain amounts of time that I ate those foods, out. In my defense, this style of food management can be traced back to Jesus, what with all the fasting, and 40 days of Lent, and all those things I learned about being Christ-like as a child. In truth, I have no idea what Lent is about to this day, but I think it has more to do with the New Orleans Mardi Gras than the life of Christ. Again, I defer blame for my ignorance to my religious upbringing – in the religion of my childhood, actually reading the Bible was entirely optional – but that’s a whole different blog. So in the past I would stop eating certain things – ice cream, or chocolate, or red meat for a set period of time. And I did it. With every intention of bingeing on that food to my heart’s content as soon as that hellacious trial was over. I also tried only eating those types of foods on the weekends. Again, I found myself poised at the freezer, spoon in hand, waiting for the clock to change to 12:01 a.m. on Friday night so that I could get at the Fudge Brownie ice cream. Sick. Twisted. Pointless.
And then I did what I do very poorly, and usually only after a considerable amount of pain and trouble. I decided to ask for help. I stopped trying to do it alone, because the evidence was overwhelmingly in favor that my best efforts were not going to be enough. And the help worked. I lost weight. I felt better physically and mentally. I stopped shoving pants that no longer fit into another section of my closet with the hopes that my time away from them would be brief. The changes were not easy, but they really weren’t hard, either. Much of the process mimicked my recovery from alcohol. And that process could be summed up by becoming more comfortable with change. I had to learn to deal with feelings, situations, and temptations differently. For the first time in my life, I discovered what true “hunger” really feels like. All too often I had been eating because of emotions, or habits, or simply because it was there. It felt strangely liberating to discover that I really had no clue about what the term “hunger” meant, let alone what it felt like. Over time, I made the changes necessary to meet my goals. And then I lived happily ever after as a recovered food addict. Almost.
I mentioned earlier that this issue is not easy for me to talk or blog about. It doesn’t help that when I tell some people about my food issues, a common response is: “You? Look at you! You’re not overweight! You’ve got nothing to worry about! Have another slice of cake!” I know the speakers mean well, but it doesn’t help. In fact, it strengthens the voices in my head that desperately want to believe that I am, indeed, fine, and that the tendency to eat an entire box of cookies in one sitting is perfectly normal, sane, and healthy behavior. Luckily for me, I went through a similar dialogue with many people when I quit drinking: “You? I’ve never seen you get into trouble with alcohol! You don’t have a drinking problem! Maybe you should just switch to light beer for awhile!” One problem and similarity with both of these scenarios is all of the behaviors that these people were not seeing. The sneaky, solo, silent little secrets of my drinking and eating. I do not know who first used the term “clean” in reference to sobriety and recovery, as in “clean and sober,” but the term fits. And these secrets soiled me over time and ruined my “Happily Ever After”.
After years in and around recovery, I have come to believe that addiction is indeed a disease, but, in my humble opinion, it is has some very unique characteristics that other diseases do not have. I heard a comedian put it quite nicely recently: “Addiction is the only disease that someone can get yelled at for having!” That sums it up pretty well. And I do not know of anyone who is surviving from any other disease that would refer to themselves as “clean” from the ailment. “Free” or “In Remission” maybe, but not “Clean”. And yet, as I said before, the term fits. Perhaps because remission, recovery, abstinence – whatever term you prefer, relies so much on decisions and behaviors for a person trying to “clean up”. I know that for myself, I do in fact feel dirty, grimy, guilty, and unhealthy when I begin to use food – or anything for that matter – to fill in as a substitute for alcohol. And for me, food is a very tempting substitute. So before I turned myself in last week, I knew I had remained “sober” but I really did not feel too “clean”.
I can almost feel this emotion, this negative force when I watch the show The Biggest Loser. At the beginning of the season, it is clear that the participants are feeling like “losers”. They have become pawns to their desires, and impulses and, in many cases, addictions to food. Over time, you can see and feel the pride and self esteem building as they change those behaviors and decisions around food choices and healthier living. My only problem watching Loser, or other shows like it that deal with unhealthy behaviors and addictions is that the emphasis is always on the final “reveal”, the dramatic and exciting conclusion to these sad stories. I experienced something similar when I reached my “goal weight” or when I remained sober for the first year – I wanted the dramatic and exciting conclusion – a parade maybe – at least a day named in my honor – couldn’t everyone see what I had accomplished? In fact, I did “celebrate” these events, and I had many people give me kind, loving words of praise. And that was nice. But then I woke up the next day and had to keep doing all of the things I had done up until that point. Nothing had REALLY changed much in my plan. And that is the part that is often left out in these shows – the maintenance of healthy behaviors once everyone leaves the ranch, and the t.v. lights go out, and you find yourself all alone in the midst of a bad day with $20.00 in your pocket driving by the liquor store, or the drug house, or the casino, or a McDonalds – those are the moments that will truly test how “clean and sober” you are…
I often remind myself that given the variety and scope and scariness of the various diseases out there, I am glad to stick with mine, or more accurately, to be stuck with mine. Addiction does have it’s challenges, but it also has countless rewards. I used to hear people refer to themselves as “Grateful recovering alcoholics” and talk about being thankful for the lessons they had learned through their addiction. For a long time, I thought: “What a crock!” But I know now what they mean. I see some purpose in the struggle, and I definitely look at life, and death, and relationships in a way that I never would have if I had not traveled the exact road that brought me to this point. And if this particular disease requires major modifications to my behaviors and decisions, and if those changes need to be monitored and adjusted from day to day, sometimes minute to minute – so be it. For now, I’ll just enjoy this glass of water, this lovely bowl of carrot sticks, and I’ll wait in joyful expectation for my next meeting with the women behind the glass partition.
Thank you for this. Hits home!
I will comment as soon as I
stop
laughing Brian.
You are a very good writer.
Tom and I went to “the meeting” last night. We both lost .2 of a pound. Funny we really liked the leader last week. This week I found her annoying. Wonder why? We are both religious on “the program”, but age is a factor. I stopped going to the gym last week due to the show and a death in the family, but this showed me I need to go every day. Good thing to know. Wee are off to buy lots of fruits and vegetables. Next week will be better! Good luck to you.