So it’s on like vegan, sugar-free flan, but it is on: I applied for the Dr. Fuhrman Immersion through my job. I am both excited and terrified. I should find out soon whether or not I am accepted. If I am accepted, it happens in the early part of April. Eeeeeeee!!
I also think I am going to start posting today’s action plan and yesterday’s food. Often what I am eating and what I *say* I am going to eat do not match up. Like last night, for instance. I ended up having a veggie burger, fries and strawberry sorbet and I had air popped popcorn as my snack. Not totally awful, but not totally ETL, either. Dinner is always this total clusterfuck—like I suddenly develop food amnesia. Eat to Live? Abstinence? Whaaaaat? Oh look, something shiny! And then I forget all about it. The ironic thing is I went to my OA homegroup last night and then got so caught up in shopping at Costco afterwards that I forgot to eat dinner! By the time I ate, it was 9pm and I was ravenous. So I stopped and ate the first thing that was vegan that sounded good to me. And it was not a big ass salad, because that never sounds good when I am coming off a few days (or weeks) of “slippery eating”. It takes time for my tastebuds and my brain to recover from that and get reset to Vegetable Mode. It comes down to this: if I keep reinfecting myself with the amnesia virus, I’m never going to get this. The sloppier my food is, the sloppier it gets. Sloppy is as sloppy does. The less time I take to prepare and plan my meals, the less I end up eating optimally nourishing meals. My inner addict starts having a field day: “Let them eat cake! Let us ALL eat cake RIGHT FUCKING NOW!”.
Speaking of the inner addict voice, I have been reading Drunkard: A Hard Drinking Life by Neil Steinberg. I love the way he writes. I had never thought to read this, but Emily Boller had mentioned that she re-reads this book every year as a reminder to herself that she is an addict. Her drug of choice may be food, but she is an addict nonetheless. I happen to have quite a few drugs of choice, unfortunately. Food is the final frontier for me, or, as I heard one woman in OA who is also a recovering alcoholic describe it, “Food is my Waterloo.” I have to say, food is a shitty substitute for booze! And booze stopped working for me a long time ago. There’s not enough alcohol in the world to make me feel good. It turned on me somewhere in the early 2000’s. Unfortunately, there is also not enough cake in the world to make me feel good. The extreme end of my food behaviors also no longer works for me. I could eat an entire tres leches vegan sheet cake, throw it up and get zero relief from it. My Wicked Stepmother would immediately commence with, “where’s the ice cream, darling?” Ain’t that a bitch?
This particular passage really struck me:
“The first sip doesn;t do much but reassure: the overture, the fugue, the opening beat of the orchestra saying, “Just wait; you’re in the right place.” Soon –two sips, three–the glass is half empty and the grating clank of the day begins to soften and fade. I’ve made it. I’m rescued, plucked from the icy chop and flopped gratefully into the lifeboat, covered with a wool blanket and heading for home.”
I can remember the magic of that first sip of the evening…however, the magic kind of stopped there right around when I turned 33. I stopped getting relief. It took so much for me to get drunk that I could barely claw my way to the I-get-to-feel-good-now part. And then I would have epic, Mount Rushmore sized hangovers that left me barely functional. I started having to plan my drinking around my work schedule…and then I started having to plan my work schedule around my drinking. Man, I do not miss that shit at all.
Looking forward to continue writing about Drunkard. I’m getting a lot out of it so far, and I am curious to see what happens to him!
Today’s action plan: literature, journal/blog, homegroup AA meeting and meet with sponsor for step work, outreach, cook some motherf@%$&* dinner at home.
So here’s a link to the Emily Boller article: