Compelled

I don’t know how to explain the relentless need.  It is more than want. More than desire. More than craving. More than yearning.  Throughout my whole being it feels like an essential.  It feels like a requirement.  A necessity.  A prerequisite.  A demand.  (Over)Eating to me feels like an indispensible need that defines who I am as a person.

I am crippled under the compulsion to eat.  I feel like a prisoner to the unwavering need to eat.  If I am not currently eating, I am thinking about what I might eat next. What snacks are nearby? What can I make, pick-up, or go buy for my next meal?  Where are the left-overs?  Can I eat the left-overs before anyone else has a chance?  And then what will I eat after that?

While in a car with my brother and one of our friends from high school about 10-12 years ago I was trying to explain the constant need to eat.  Our friend accused me of making excuses and told me if I wanted to make my life better, just eat less.  My brother jumped in before I could respond and simple said, “It’s not that easy.”  “Sure it is! If you don’t like the feeling, you don’t like being this big, you are worried about your health, then stop fucking eating so much,” rang out from the backseat.  I wanted to fall through the floor of the car and get run over by the back tires.  Our friend is originally from Brazil and has always spoken with an accent. In my head I was thinking, “Why don’t you stop speaking with an accent?”  I know that would be an unreasonable request because as he would have said, “I have always spoken like this and you can’t just stop one day.”  Exactly.

I don’t remember a time when I didn’t feel this way.  It has been life-long.  As a child I remember wanting to be the first to wake up so I would be able to get a bowl of the “good” cereal before it was gone, and after that first bowl I would go get a bowl of my second favorite cereal.  And if no one else was up yet, a bowl of the cereal I didn’t even really like just so I could eat more.  I had to mix up the types of cereal, or else someone might catch on that I was eating three bowls.  Even at a young age, I knew eating this much was not right and this is where I started to learn how to hide my addiction.

In the late elementary grades my oldest brother had sports practice after school and my other older brother would be playing with friends in the neighborhood.  This would be my binge-eating window.  A bag of microwave popcorn, a bologna sandwich with mayo and cheese, mini-bagel pizzas and chips. This was a typical after school “snack.”  Even after eating all of that, as an 11 year old kid, I could only think about what Mom was going to make for dinner. 

For anyone that was a fan of the show West Wing, there is a scene where Leo McGarry is trying to explain to his lawyer what it is like to be an alcoholic.  If you don’t know the scene, or even if you do, watch it here before continuing this read.  https://youtu.be/Ma3d-YdLjCs

The way Leo describes how his brain works with alcohol is much the same way my brain works with food. 

I like the sound a steak makes when you flip it on the grill.  Wait too long and it is burned, turn too early and you don’t get the nice grilled flavor.

I don’t eat one slice of pizza.  I don’t understand people that only have one slice. People that say I’ve had enough. How do you not want more of this delicious goodness? How do you not want the whole pizza to yourself?

I don’t binge eat with people. I binge eat by myself. 

As I sit here and type this in my classroom at work, food is near the forefront of my mind.  Did someone bring treats into the office? Maybe I should go check.  Do I have any crackers left in my desk drawer?  Of course not!  I bet there is a teacher in the building who has snacks in their drawer…

Three years ago I started to change my life for the better. I asked friends and family to motivate me by sponsoring my weight loss with pledges of $1per pound, $2 per pound, etc. with the proceeds going to the American Cancer Society.  Over 100 people joined to motivate me and together $147 was donated for every pound I lost.  When it was all said and done $23,000 was donated. One year later, a better man than I, donated $23,000 because I was able to keep the weight off for a year.

Two weeks later, my appendix burst and I had emergency surgery. I was required to remain inactive for 3-4 weeks.  These two things, pain and inactivity are triggers for my food addiction.  I stumbled in my life change.  Two months later, I had my fifth herniation in my lower back.  After 5 weeks of pain and inactivity, I had surgery and required another 3-4 months of low activity.  More triggers.  One month after the spinal surgery, I needed oral surgery. Quite painful and required rest.  More triggers.

These may sound like a list of excuses, and all I can say is you may be right.  But I doubt you have ever struggled with an addiction.  For me, changing my eating habits is like trying to handwrite an essay with my left hand. Everyday. All day.  My muscle memory wants to pick up the pen with the right hand.  My left hand feels awkward and clumsy. Eventually it’s just easier to switch to the right hand.

Now I am in this horrible, never ending circle of depression, guilt and embarrassment.  I feel like my friends and family that supported me through my previous efforts feel like I swindled them out of their money.  Like I knew I would lose 85 pounds and just put it right back on. Like I didn’t even try to maintain my life change.  I’m embarrassed. I want to crawl in a hole.  The shame is immense.  I want the addiction to go away. I want the triggers to be reduced to ash.  I want my loved ones to know that I tried. I really did.  But in the end, tried is not good enough.

In that same episode of West Wing Leo McGarry said the following, "I went to rehab, my friends embraced me when I got out. You relapse it's not like that. 'Get away from me.' That's what it's like." No one has said this to me of course, but I can’t help feeling like it fits with my addiction and history.  I must do better.