Hello Journal & Friends,
First I want to thank you for all the kind, tender and encouraging comments, prayers and good thoughts in regards to my Daddy's passing. I appreciate it more than is possibile to explain here... just know that to me, it felt like a bunch of warm and friendly hugs. :-)
This week has been hard, obviously. For so many reasons. One thing I wanted to share was an interesting experience from the viewpoint of a recovering food addict.
You know how we have those old tapes in our heads?? Those thoughts that automatically start playing, and if we aren't aware and careful, off we go, acting on them like little robots.
Well, Monday, shortly after I got the news that Daddy had died, as the reality of it started to sink in, I went into the kitchen. My Dad had just died... and what was I thinking?? Loud and clear in my head: MACARONI AND CHEESE.
I didn't even have to hit "Play" on that tape. It turned on all by itself, instantly, loud and clear. Yes, the tape was still in there, alive and well.
And I saw it... hot and steaming and ooey gooey and cheesey. Big, huge, heaping, gigantic bowlfuls of it.
And I knew without a doubt it WOULD make me feel better. Absolutely it would, no doubt about it... temporarily.
From long years of practice, I knew just how to plan my "escape". I had it perfected! I would get my "drugs" all prepared, and it would be when I was alone, of course. And I would find something on tv to complete the "zone out". And I would eat and watch tv until I was forced to stop, simply because I could not possibly stuff in one more bite.
So... back to the kitchen. I sat there, with visions of mac n cheese dancing in my head. And then I asked myself one question: THEN WHAT??
After I had eaten enough to bust a gut, then what?
After I was forced to stop and come back to reality, then what?
After it was all gone, and there was no more "drug", then what?
Then... I would still be left to face the pain, and I would have the pounds to go along with it now.
Pain and pounds.
So, I mused... if I had to face the pain anyway, sooner or later, then I just didn't want the pounds TOO.
I was only making it worse. I was only DELAYING the inevitable.
And I realized I just wasn't interested this time. No thanks.
I wish I could say that insight carried me all week. It did not. Oh, there were no binges or blow-outs. But I have been grazing, and eating when not hungry. I didn't have the fire, the spunk... I felt deflated, like the fight had gone out of me. I just didn't feel like putting up the needed resistance. And I gave in and pampered myself.
Yet I hadn't forgotten what Jules at Big Girl Bombshell had cautioned me that first day. She had gone through something similar, and even though you handle it well at first, "It" will try to sneak back in later, so be on guard.
Last night I finally admitted to myself that I had allowed "It" to push me around all week. I had listened to the excuses, and had not fought back. I had felt like an orphan, and let that oh-poor-me attitude influence my choices to pamper myself.
My Daddy was a strong, opinionated, hard working man. No way would he sit around feeling sorry for himself. He lived in charge, and he died in charge. He was never a victim! He always met life head on and didn't hide.
Today, I am going to draw on Daddy's spunk. His feistyness. His fire. His determination.
No more excuses. I'm back.
From Dr Phil's book: "Whatever the situation, you can choose your reaction."
My verse for today: "God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble."
My quote for today: "If you are going through hell, keep going." --Winston Churchiill
Enjoy the Journey,