I’m writing it anyway, but I fear that this post will be a blog cliche: Writer posts often for a while, even a long while, but then fades away. Then she/he writes again, saying “I’ve been gone, but XXX happened, and now I’m back.”
I frickin’ hate being a cliche, almost enough to not even write this. But, here I am, albeit without any promise that I’ll ever write after this. But like every writer ever, I have something I think I should contribute.
My writing has centered on my experience as a recovering food addict who was obese for years, and who has been maintaining a 155-pound loss for about 30 years. Because it hasn’t been my experience for a very long time, I haven’t written much about relapse.
But it’s where I’m writing from today. I have been on a downward path (spiritually, emotionally, and now, finally, on the scale — down as in up!) for maybe a couple of years, and my eating is, presently, as bad as it has been in … I honestly don't know how long it's been since it's been this bad. 15 years, anyway.
To illustrate (certainly not to brag), here’s what I ate yesterday: A facsimile of a typical breakfast — yogurt, fruit, and grain — but with larger portions. At mid-morning, a 2-oz packet of peanuts and a bag of chips. For lunch, $15 worth of wings and fries, following immediately by a bag of corn nuts from the drug store whose lot I’d parked in to eat my deep-fried dishes. Maybe 90 minutes later, I went to TJs for a bag of dried figs and a big bag of parsnip chips, and then went to a different lot to eat them. I felt pretty ill after that, and ate only apples and grapes from there.
It’s not my worst day since I entered this ever-deepening crevice of self abuse, but it’s bad enough. I can’t live like this. For a little while now — months? —I've been experiencing, occasionally, little blips of consciousness — which I know is barely descriptive, but I don’t know how to say it better. It’s like if they sustained, I’d pass out, but they last less than a second. They came yesterday at a greater rate than ever — a couple of dozen, maybe? — and I wonder whether I need to go to the doctor about them. What would I say? And what annoying flurry of tests would such an amorphous report trigger?
So you see: I fear that my eating is directly threatening my health — never mind the obvious long-term peril — and I’m not going to a doctor, but I am continuing to eat. This is how it has always been for food addicts not in recovery— suicide on the installment plan.
I am talking with a caregiver who has helped me repeatedly when I’ve been in the shit about going away again — I’ve checked flights, car rentals, and other scenarios. But for today, I’m “thinking” about that, and still eating.
There’s plenty more I can share about it, but, I've always written longer than readers want to read. Maybe, I’ll cover those in further posts, but no promises.
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Karen P replied on Permalink
Relapse and Lapse Happen, onward to your next steps
Hello Michael, relapse and lapse happen. I'm sorry. Food Addiction is a beast and a disease that is lifelong. It makes sense to enter treatment during your next moment of clarity. If you had a broken arm, I would not expect you to not seek treatment. I have promised myself when I next relapse, that I will also haul myself in. I know that with my FTO genes and my extra ghrelin- it's so not my fault. I also know there are some good drugs to take the edge off the extra hunger hormone while I do talk therapy.
I konw this time will come for me. That's why I am writing it to you. Together we are strong. Onward and I will keep you in my thoughts. We are in this together. And we deserve all the treatment we can get our hands on, when we are ready. Keep us in the loop and please know you are not alone. Karen P.