On addiction to food

Lynn Murphy Mark

01/25/2022

Here we go again. Not long ago I joined Weight Watchers for the umpteenth time. Through no fault of its own, it is a program that I succeed with but inevitably give up and go back to my chronic overeating. This is not a problem with WW. It is a problem with my ability to humbly ask God to remove my shortcomings. 

If damaging eating habits are shortcomings, then I really need to get humble. When I live in my Arrogance (with a capital A) nothing good comes of it. I get lost in the old myths that I tell myself, mostly about how I can conquer the addiction to overeating all by myself. I really believe that story and genuinely think I have it in me to accomplish it. In reality, unless I am held accountable, unless I carefully track what I eat during the day, unless I share information with others about my sickness, I am held in bondage by my addiction.

When I finally reach that breaking point where reality inserts itself into my thinking I know that I can clean myself up by inviting me into a structured program, like WW and like Alanon. First I must accept the invitation that is extended to me through the grace of God. My spiritual director has carefully opened the option of seeking structured help for my overeating behavior in some of our sessions. In my mind I have answered her, “Thanks, but I’m doing just fine on my own.” Even as I think this, the tiny voice of Truth tells me otherwise, but I usually prefer not to listen.

Then last Monday morning there was an invite from WW to join at a reduced cost. I opened the email, and decided that the time has come – the walrus said, to speak of other things – and before I could talk myself out of it I signed up. It was easy because all of my information is stored in the giant WW virtual world. They know me there. They have known me for 50+ years.

After I signed up I began to simmer, which led to a full on rolling boil, which led to me feeling so angry at myself that I was surprised at its depth. In the midst of it I recognized resentment at two things: that I am a captive to my eating behaviors, and that I have them in the first place. Here is where step 1 shines brightest. I admit that I am powerless over food and that my life has become unmanageable. By unmanageable I don’t mean that the structure of my life is broken. I believe my life is valuable and useful, two things that are of paramount importance in my scheme of things. But I do mean that I am capable of living my life according to ‘’stinking thinking” where food is concerned. I do mean that I live in a mental world where there are no consequences to my actions, where there is no rational thinking about what I am doing to myself by consuming certain foods in quantities well beyond recommended quantities. I avoid the truth about my body by avoiding as many mirrors as I can, which is not as easy as it sounds. My clothes tell me otherwise. My slowed gait tells me otherwise. My rising from a chair tells me otherwise. My truly best friends tell me otherwise.

This time I don’t feel as much shame as I have in the past. I know that there are places in my psyche where shame stores some bits and pieces of my life. Overeating lives in my shame gallery.  Other shadowy items are carefully hung on its walls for me to visit when I enter. Studying my shame, some of which extends back for decades, is a sure trap for me. Overeating has been my go-to source of comfort. The problem is, the shame is then compounded and it gathers strength. Then I am in the midst of a vicious cycle of overeating, not caring that I have just binged, shutting down any emotions that come up, and ultimately inviting shame to join me again.

I tell myself sometimes that I must be a classic narcissist. Everything is about me. My life is structured around meeting my needs any way that I want to. I manipulate situations and people so that I get my way in the end. I carefully tend my magical thinking so I can have what I want when I want it. When I don’t get my way I can be churlish and downright unpleasant, especially around Jan. She deserves better, but it is easier for me to overeat than to face up to my own ugly behaviors.

Not overeating opens me to actually feeling my feelings. My anxiety, my boredom, my restlessness, my wanting to escape my life for the time being. All of this disappears as I eat my way through the moment. I think I am afraid of not having overeating as a source of comfort, even though I know very well that it is a temporary feeling at best.

I remind myself that the other feelings that come with structured eating are joy and contentment and a sense of wellbeing. I love feeling this way. If I did this one day at a time I wouldn’t find myself bored or discouraged with the routine. I would not harbor the fear that I will never be able to eat things that I love. I must come to terms with the fact that I really can eat anything as long as I recognize a sensible portion size and as long as I track it during the day.

I am fortunate that I really love fruits and vegetables and lean meats. I only crave fried food rarely. I do crave sweets, though. Ice cream is my favorite. I don’t need an excuse to explain my sweet cravings but the reality is it is partly due to all the antidepressant medications that I am on. Of course, I would get the side effect that tells my brain I want chocolate ice cream desperately and immediately.

Then I think about my friends who are recovering alcoholics. Many of them have a daily commute along the “I could have just one” highway, and they manage to find the exit ramp when needed. At my worst, I speed on the highway to the nearest Quik Trip exit and have a field day when I get back in the car with my goodies. This, I know, is self will run riot.

There is a reason why there are so many 12 Step sayings: they speak truth to the power of addiction. They can become healthy and helpful mantras to bring me back to sanity. I also depend on the two Alanon meetings that I attend every week whenever possible. I depend on my sponsor and my spiritual director and my writing and my friend Rose. These are the best tools I know to help me stay sane where food and overeating are concerned. 

On Monday I took one more step towards health by agreeing to sponsor someone in AlAnon. It will do me as much good as I hope it will do for her. We have so much in common, meaning there’s plenty of stuff to work on together! I am grateful and honored that she asked, and grateful to Rose for reminding me often that sponsorship is a good thing. 

I am exhausted dealing with my eating disorder. Yet I know that it is a necessity if I want any quality of life as I age. In my time as a nurse I witnessed many of the consequences of poor self-care and poor life style choices. In fact, I had a recent scare with my heart with the beginnings of Congestive Heart Failure. That is a lifestyle disease and I have every means at my disposal to deal with it. My family medical history does not include heart disease of any kind, so what I am experiencing may well be a result of weight gain and an increasingly sedentary existence. Years of smoking don’t help and I would be wise to remember that I have already inflicted some damage from that behavior choice.

Yesterday I was at my Alanon meeting and the speaker was a man that I so enjoy hearing from. He usually has a short share with a pithy message. As the speaker yesterday he told a little of his story and talked about what he is like now, with decades of recovery in him. He said something that really caught my attention: “Every good alcoholic (read, foodaholic for me) needs a good resentment to keep them drinking (eating)”. That struck me. The resentment that I carry with me is this: I love to eat, I love to eat a large quantity of my favorite things, but I have a condition that erases all of my sensibilities about the difference between normal eating and the way I eat, AND, there are definite negative consequences to my behaviors. 

I’ve tried to parse out the fears that I carry about having a structured eating plan. I fear being hungry, though I know that I have all means at my disposal to prevent that, and I know that occasional hunger is not a bad thing, and I wish that I only ate when I am hungry instead of eating when I’m not. I fear being deprived of things I love to eat, and I know that on WW it is possible to eat anything as long as I can fit it into the points that I am allotted, and I know that a small Ted Drewes frozen custard is just as good as a big one. I fear that I will not be able to numb out by overeating, and I know that I have skills and supports to deal with any anxiety that arises, and I know that the joy of clean eating eventually trumps the anxiety.

One day at a time is the only reasonable way for me to live.