I wish I could accurately describe what it feels like to be addicted to food.
If I could be like the vampire Jasper in the book series "Twilight" and thrust my emotions to each person who ever wondered why a fat person couldn't just stop eating shit that's bad for you and get off the couch, I would do just that.
Since that isn't possible, my words will have to do.
First of all, let me explain that I do not sit on the couch and eat chocolate and chips all day. I do hard core full on derby practice twice a week for 2 hours and then at least one other activity during the week, usually speed skating practice at the local rink. I might not climb mountains, ok, yes I do climb mountains on occasion, but I also love to swim, yet I rarely get to truly enjoy swimming for fear of being judged as the fat woman in the bathingsuit.
Point is, I'm not a couch potato and sometimes I feel the need to put that on a tshirt or something....so, again, people won't judge me.
But, I do have a problem with food.
And as I'm sitting here typing this post, I realize that I have been writing about this most painful part of being Paula Biggerstaff Salmon for over three years now and nothing has changed about my eating. And God knows that I am desperately trying to rid myself of this demon. Some of you may think I'm coming off as a whiner....but this is me being the most authentic part of who I am and for some strange reason, writing this for everyone in the world to see, is less painful than actually having a one-on-one conversation with even the most trusted person in my life.
I have spent years going to counseling to deal with my problems, especially with being co-dependant and learning how to avoid getting into unhealthy relationships again. I've been down a long road. I know who I am, I like who I am and who I want to be....but the food is still there....loving me and hating me at the same time.
Being my best friend. Comforting and soothing me when I hurt.
But also being responsible for making me the one thing I hate most about myself....fat.
Why can't I stop eating? Why?
When I say it to myself it seems so easy. I know what I need to do. I sincerely want to do it. And there are actually times when I eat the way I need to for a day, but then something happens to shake up my emotions.
Something upsets me about the kids, my ex-husband makes me mad, I have a stressful situation at work, or I accidently hurt someone's feelings and the next thing I know I'm eating chips and ranch dressing. And all of the sudden, food is my best friend. Literally, I feel the wave of calm wash over me, starting from the very top of my head, down to the tiniest nail on my toes. For however long that feeling lasts, my problems don't overwhelm me, unfortunately, it doesn't last long enough.
I imagine it's much the same way an alcoholic feels when those first few sips of beer have passed their lips and is making its way through the drinker's veins.
Sometimes I wish I could have an addiction that I didn't have to parade around in 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. Maybe an addiction to shopping or exercise....something more socially tolerated.
But there is no hiding my disgust.
There is no hiding in the fact that if I could let go of this hold I have on food and learn to deal with whatever I'm trying to bury....someone might actually decide that I'm worthy of being loved. That I am more valuable as a girlfriend than as the perpetual friend. And although I adore my men friends, I always wonder if he would have picked me as a girlfriend if I wasn't so overweight. Because aside from being fat, I actually have a lot to offer and think I'm a pretty good catch.
Until I get off this roller coster ride of food, I'm not going to find my peace.
And I have no idea where to brake is.
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