Everyone has one

I was listening to Eminem the other day (old Em, not any of this "Crack a Bottle" ? crap) and one of the lines in the song was about how his insecurities could eat him alive. And I thought to myself, "Huh, I hear you ,Dude". Only thing is, with me, it's the reverse. It's me trying to gobble up my insecurities.

I'm an emotional eater. If I'm happy, I eat. Sad, I eat. Angry, I eat. Lonely, I eat. . . ya'll get the idea. For every emotion I have, there's a food for that. Kinda like Visine. Food is my barometer for life. It's my constant.

I used to say that I didn't have an addictive personality. I'm not into drugs. Not huge on drinking. I don't gamble. Don't stay up all night surfing the net for porn. Nada de eso. I've never had any habit in my life that I just couldn't walk away from. Except food.

Food is my drug of choice. Completely legal. Absolutely available. All day. Everyday.

And I am completely addicted.

I'm a junkie.

Just as sunken, frail bodies,and track marks are telltale signs of heroin addiction; so is it that pudgy, doughy tummies and back fat are a dead give away that you (or your loved one) is caught in the throes of a heartbreaking food addiction. Yes boys and girls, there is a food addict near you! (Why isn't there an add campaign for that?).

My body is a walking, neon poster for the ills of food addiction.

But where does this addiction come from? Is my brain hard wired for this? Is it genetic (Thanks Dad!). A bad childhood? Or is it something deeper?

It would be easy to blame all this on things I can't control. My genetics. Insanity. Something! But deep down I know that's a bunch of hogwash. This isn't insanity. But it is in my head.

The truth is that my emotions feed my frenzy. I let my emotions feed my frenzy.

I don't like to deal with unpleasant things. I never really have.

So, I eat my misery. I slurp down my bitterness. If my day (or life) gets ugly and mean, I'll look for (and find?) something that resembles joy and peace hidden inside the wondrous delights of Lindt White Chocolate truffles (yeah, like the whole bag!) or the salty decadence of Lay's Sour Cream and Onion chips. And I'll tell myself it's OK. I'm good. I'm happy.

But it's a lie.

The layers of fat that wrap my body like a burly winter coat are a testament to the last fight I had with my husband.The globular boobs that hang from my chest and threaten to pop the buttons on my shirt are the result of a little (or a lot!) too much fun at my best friend's party last weekend. The flooding tide of tummy fat that threatens to burst the zippers of my pants, that's looking a lot like that report at work I missed the deadline for. My exploding rear end that keeps straining the the seams of my pants, that's that day I had this horrible epiphany that I would always be alone. The muffin top that bubbles over the edge of my jeans, that's the day I thought about all the things I regret.

See. This addiction isn't much different than any other. It has it's triggers. It's wrought with it's excuses. It's riddled with it's own broken promises. But breaking these promises seem unusually vicious. Because these are broken promises that we've made to OURSELVES!

Do you know how many "Last Meals" I've had? Only to have the same "Last Meal" the following week? And the week after that. And the week after that. And the . . . . . Stop the insanity!

So the first step is admitting I have a problem.

Like everyone.

Because everyone has one. Everyone has a crutch. Everyone uses something to hide behind so that they don't have to feel the things that hurt too much to talk about. Whether it's drugs or alcohol, porn or gambling, video games or . . . food, we all have something.

The trick is learning to control our emotions rather than letting them control us. It's finding that strength within that says "I'm better than this". It's about replacing something that's killing you with something that brings you closer to the fullness of life. It's about finding real and lasting joy and peace and not settling for cheap substitutes. It's about seeing through the lies of our insecurities (and our addictions) and knowing that we have so much more to offer. It's about finding that thing that's holding us captive and fighting like hell to be free of it.

And getting mad as hell if anything tries to stop us.

Sometimes that means getting a new routine. Sometimes that means finding a new place to hang out. Sometimes that means a new job. Sometimes it means changing your phone number. Sometimes it means moving away. Sometimes it means making new friends. Sometimes it means a whole new life. Sometimes it means saying "Goodbye". And sometimes it means just walking away.

And everytime it means making a choice between the poison and the cure.

What do you choose?