I have an addiction…..and my addiction is food. For as far as my memory in pre-teen, I used food as a pillow, a hug or a shoulder to lean in on when I had no tools to process my emotions.
I was always taught to be proud and not show any weakness growing up. In our family, if you were too emotional you were a weaklink. I never expected my happy childhood turn into a life altering moment we’re the only comfort or solace I found was in food.
Tonight…..I was feeling lonely and pretty low about my weight. Instead of coming up with ways to get myself out of the rut, I leaned into white chocolate covered macaroons and a rom-com movie on Netflix. I always picture myself as the leading lady, but then by the end…when I’m back from escape land, I realize that no man would love me today the way I am. It’s not just about my size, but my confidence, the way my smile hides behind these insecure eyes. I can’t love myself like this so how dare I expect anybody to love me like this.
I’m so much more than this body….I know I’m supposed to love myself but I don’t like where I am today. I hide food in my bag until I’m a lone and I can comfort myself without judgement. Then I wake up in the morning sore and achey and disappointed that once again I had no self control. But I’m here, buried under this 283 pound suite, I’m screaming to get out but I can’t get out. I can’t find the zipper or the eject button. I scream everyday when I reach for the crap that’s killing me physically and emotionally. But nobody can hear me or see right through me.
I am addicted to food. I wake up thinking about my next meal, my days off revolve around finding the food I like and enjoying them as much and as often. When I’m lonely I eat, when I’m happy I eat, and when I’m sad or lose hope, I eat until that voice inside me is no longer audible. Food is my drug, my enabler, my worst enemy and my biggest fear.
When will I realize that I can’t continue to let the scale climb each week. I need to wake up today and fix this……but how?!