I'm middle aged. Yuck! But there it is, don't like how that looks, among the many other things that look the way they do when one gets to this age. But it's interesting, as I look around the rooms where I attend my OA meetings and see that most of the other women (and it is mostly women most places) there are of that "certain age" too. Maybe it's because of desperation. We've done all the other stuff, it didn't work, and short of bariatric surgery, we've landed here in the basement of the church of Our Lady of Perpetual Last Resort. Actually, we've even got a few who've had the bariatric surgery that has not worked for them.
And I think that this is what makes it work for us - the desperation, the being so damn sick and tired of being sick and tired. You get so sick of the unrelenting pain that you will even risk our cult-like readings and give that whole, gag me with a spoon, GOD thing. Even God is better than another lousy diet. And you find out that maybe the whole God thing isn't what you thought it is. It can be a whole different kettle of fish if looked at with some creativity. Look at it as an entity completely different from that hackneyed image guy in the nightdress. My conception of God was so pathetically unevolved from my 2nd grade Sunday school, it was crazy! When I started looking at a higher power as possibly some force in the universe that was trying to keep me healthy and sane, things started looking up, no pun intended.
But it's hard to stay with that concept. Old habits die very, very hard. Only by repeating the new good stuff, and I'm not even talking about eating habits here, does the new stuff stick around. I have to do, as they say in the program, the DO Things: Write and reflect regularly (several times a week, daily is preferable but not always possible), omigod, I have to keep praying. I have to keep in contact with the fellow strugglers who lift me up, and keep slugging away at it. This is what long term success looks like, but it requires daily vigilance. I'm only as good as my last reaching out to what keeps me sane.
It's like.... hmmm....my diabetes. Luckily I'm in remission because of all the weight I've lost. My doctor says its gone, but I know would almost assuredly return if I regained that 150 pounds. But someday it might spontaneously return even if I didn't regain the weight, and I could have to take daily meds and monitor my blood sugar.
Look, in every fashion I can see my compulsion to overeat is a chronic disease. I HATE that. It is never going to be completely gone. Some days are easier, some are damn hard. So, I need this daily practice to keep me healthy. The funny thing is, it's got a lot of side benefits that have nothing to do with my waistband --- I do have flashes of , gulp, serenity. I've got many great friends that encourage me to take risks and keep growing, try things I would have never considered years ago. It's even helping my work. As an artist, I am now having the great experience of my creativity and scope of the possible opening up. If that ain't a great antidote for "that age", I don't know what is.
No comments:
Post a Comment