4.30.2013

My Suicide Decision and Growing Addiction

Hello.  My name is Dania.  And I am a compulsive eater.  I have a debilitating addiction to sugar and any food that rapidly turns to sugar once it hits my system. 

I also have a terrible obsession with taking obnoxious photos of myself stuffing said foods into my face hole. 

I haven't written in well over a month.  Partly because I have been a slacker, mostly because I have been really depressed and hard on myself for every little thing.  Terrible eating decisions.  The increasing inability to fit into clothes.  My lack of employment.  I'm a terrible critic.  As much as I have made a few efforts, there is something short-circuited in my head right now and I'm having a very difficult time making the mend. 

I know what to do.  I do.  And I've done it before.  Get rid of the sugars.  And all the other foods that have a terrible way of altering my hormones and biochemistry and make it difficult for me to think clearly.  Easy to say, feels like impossible to do.   

I remember sitting with Matt one evening, probably eating a pint of Ben & Jerry's.  Cannoli, perhaps?  And I remember asking him "If I know the damage these foods are doing to my body and yet I continue to consciously eat them in great quantity, is that like committing suicide? Really slowly?"  I think about that concept quite often, actually.  The impact of the foods I have been eating on my long term health. 

The weight gain and the necessity to purchase bigger sizes in everything I own is merely a frustrating by-product of the growing compulsion to eat crap.  What weighs even more heavily on me, more so than my own hips, is the fear of consciously creating a diabetic condition.  Or a serious issue with my thyroid.  Or worst of all, cancer.  If I continue to "fuel" my body with garbage, it will eventually reject me.  I know that.  Heroin addicts can't continue to shoot their bodies full of heroin and come out okay at the other end.  Alcoholics can't have a glass of wine at dinner every night of the week and survive the internal battle that will ensue.

So here I am, with the figurative noose snugged up around my neck standing on a chair in the closet.  I can choose to cut the crap and stop eating the tie-dyed, chemically processed, frankenfoods with hidden sugars and grains and corn syrups and an assault of ingredients I can't pronounce... or I can keep going as I am and just kick the chair out from under my feet.

This is the worst I think I have ever felt.  Humbled.  Alone.  Low.  Very low.  Trapped.  Inside my own body.  Making baby steps to climb out of a very deep, very dark hole.  I'm tired of waking up with food hangovers.  (Think of waking up after your worst night in college.  Maybe an evening of Jager bomb after Jager bomb followed by a sunrise toast of Jose Cuervo.)  Eating wheat, sugar, dairy, and anything out of a box has me waking up with the same nausea, the same headache, and the same body aches as if I had partied too hard the night before.  It hurts.  And it is scary to not be able to stop.  I don't even know how to communicate the depth of fear that blankets me some days.  Or how to describe the demons that haunt me from the inside.

I stand here with rope in hand and I have to decide if I am willing to make the tough decisions, the sacrifices to help heal my brain and my body.  Am I prepared to truly make the change, break the habits, suffer through the detox period, and really get back to where I know I can be?  Where I have been before?  Where I know I can be again?  That is yet to be seen. 

The journey continues.  I just never expected the terrain to be so rough for so long.

If we are what we eat... then I'm in some big trouble!



"Do you not know that your bodies are temples of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from God? You are not your own; you were bought at a price.  Therefore, honor God with your bodies." 
1 Corinthians 6:19-20

 




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