sabotage

And to quote the Beastie Boys, “‘cuz you can’t/and you won’t/and you don’t stop.”

Yeah, there might be experience in this post, but strength and hope? Not so much.

I feel like the part of Bill W’s story in the Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous where he gets drunk again. And again. And then again. But just substitute cookies, chocolate, popcorn and french fries for the booze and you’ve got me:

“Shortly afterward I came home drunk. There had been no fight. Where had been my high resolve? I simply don’t know. It hadn’t even come to mind….one day I walked into a cafe to telephone. In no time I was beating on the bar asking myself how it happened. As the whisky rose to my head I told myself I would manage better next time, but I might as well get good and drunk then. And I did.” (page 6, Alcoholics Anonymous, Bill’s Story) 

I did just fine yesterday until…dinner. I was ravenously hungry by the time I got done with meeting with my AA sponsor. I ate a moderately acceptable vegan (but not ETL) dinner—red cabbage slaw, falafel on whole wheat, sweet potato fries. And then I wanted something sweet. I had purposefully decided to eat at the falafel place because they didn’t have sweets and because I didn’t want to eat at the food Co-op because it is a minefield of vegan desserts. And the next thing I know, I am in the Co-op, just eating cookies from the bakery in the grocery aisle. Like, shamelessly. I did not give a shit. A small and evil voice said, you should just finish these now. No one will ever know. But I managed to *barely* leave a few bites and pay for them. As I am shovelling these cookies in my face in the parking lot, I am thinking about how I am eating to satisfy a craving beyond my control, just like it says about drinking in the Big Book. These cookies don’t even taste good, and they are making me feel physically shittier by the second. But still, I chase that sugar-covered dragon. I thought about going home and throwing up. And then I thought about how I don’t feel safe in my apartment. I don’t trust myself when I am by myself. I am giving myself copious reasons not to trust myself. I thought about how I can trust my Higher Power to help me, but I can’t trust the addiction. I CAN trust myself when I am following directions and not getting in my own way and taking dictation from the addiction like Miss Motherfucking Moneypenny. “OK, so you want me to go to the store, eat cookies, eat ice cream, drink 2 liters of coke zero, throw up, hate myself, rinse and repeat? Got it!”

I thought about how much it sucks to have a head full of 12 Step and a belly fully of binge food. I think, think, think and it is CLEARLY NOT MAKING ME STOP.

Oh my godzilla am I tired as I write this. Tired of myself, tired of food addiction, tired of my alcoholic brain that tells me I should drink again because at least THAT might work. I know that’s not the answer. I know it doesn’t work. I was reading the end of Drunkard last night, and remembering how awful the latter part of my drinking was. I was reading, and listening to Neil Steinberg romantacize the drink and slam AA and get drunk over and over again. I know that there is help for me, that I don’t have to keep behaving this way. I know I am in the middle of a Metaphysical Cookie Monster sized sugar hangover. Just last night my AA sponsor was talking about the “action and more action, faith without works is dead” part of the Big Book. I was like, “yes!”, and then I am eating cookies. Not that kind of action, dude. How am I any different from the actively drinking alcoholic who breaks every single promise to herself, every single time? I am banging my head against the bar as well. Very tempted to go back to one of the really strict food fellowships again, or OA HOW or OA 90 day. And then I think about how I do THAT every single time I slip or relapse, and that it helps for like a month and then I freak out.

So action, action and more action. I can hear my old sponsor from Vegas, Beverly, telling me, “love yourself, forgive yourself, pick yourself up and move on. Today is a new day.” She stuck with me through TWO YEARS of me calling every night and just not getting it. This too shall motherfucking pass.

Action plan: literature, journal/blog, pray/meditate, OA phone meeting, CALL MY SPONSORS, outreach, easy does it, one meal at a time. It’s going to be OK.

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2 Comments

  1. Wow. What a powerful post. And by that, I don’t mean your addictions are powerful, I mean YOU are powerful. To even have the insight, wisdom, strength, and trust to write these words.

    I just spent two hours typing up just Part 1 of inane directions on how to use a complicated online work program thingy for a friend (another friend had done so for me, now I’m just paying it forward), and my brain is fried. I seriously thought I would just type a few basic words into my own blog, but I clicked here first. .I’m glad I did. It has inspired me to take some time to let my brain and eyes and fingers settle from the past two hours of thinking and typing, and come back to my blog later with some actual thoughts, words that are worthy of what you’ve just shared.

    You once dedicated your Ashtanga practice to me when I was struggling. I have never forgotten that, and I will never forget it. Tonight, on a night I would traditionally binge (Tuesdays, Thursdays, Saturdays – at minimum – bitches!), I am not. I am having a curried cauliflower and sweet potato soup, and I am having my big ass delicious chopped salad. And I will dedicate my meal to you, my dear friend.

    -x-

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