I'm 43 years old and I'm tired of battling my food issues. I'm a recovering addict - Feb. 2012 will mark my 5th year clean from a 6 year meth addiction. These past few years, though, I've felt like a fraud. I may have quit using meth, but I continued doing what I've done my whole life - turned from one addiction/distraction to another. Most recently, I turned from meth to food.
Addiction is addiction. It's all the same thing - desperately trying to fill a bottomless hole in order to avoid falling into it.
I've been to rehab. I've seen therapists and psychologists and psychiatrists for my severe depression since I was 13 years old. But I found myself at the age of 43 still trying to "numb out," only this time it was with food.
It occurred to me that if I were going to be "fixed," it would have happened by now. I am what I am. Unfortunately, being cognizant of the source(s) of my issues doesn't make everything alright. I still feel broken, and I'm tired of being broken. I'm tired of hopping from one addiction to the next trying to escape myself. I don't want to hurt myself any more than I already have.
"What I need is a permanent band-aid." That's what I told my trainer the first day I met him. "Look," I said, "I'm broken." And I went on to explain to him what I've just explained to you here. "What I need is a permanent band-aid, and this 'training thing' better be it, because I'm out of options." (Those words may sound tough, but when choked out between sobs, tears and a runny nose, trust me...they're just pathetic.)
It wasn't quite a spontaneous decision, but almost. I had a part time job at the time cleaning the gym by my house. That's when I first saw Jacob: This high-energy bald guy with a perma-grin. Which would have been cheesy enough to make me want to smack the shine off his dome, except that he seemed genuine.
And he is.
I've been training with Jacob for about four weeks. I never thought I'd say this, but going to the gym is absolutely, definitely, without a doubt my favorite thing in the world right now. I look forward to my workouts and I dread the days between them. (It doesn't hurt that Mr.Clean is easy on the eyes, either.) My body is responding and showing changes I used to fantasize about while sitting on the couch eating ice-cream and watching The Biggest Loser.
I have high hopes for this new way of life which, by the way, is what I'm calling it. No more diets. No more fads. No more eating disorder. No more self-loathing. That's the goal, anyway. It's a process.
I'm working on the no diet thing first.
Addiction is addiction. It's all the same thing - desperately trying to fill a bottomless hole in order to avoid falling into it.
I've been to rehab. I've seen therapists and psychologists and psychiatrists for my severe depression since I was 13 years old. But I found myself at the age of 43 still trying to "numb out," only this time it was with food.
It occurred to me that if I were going to be "fixed," it would have happened by now. I am what I am. Unfortunately, being cognizant of the source(s) of my issues doesn't make everything alright. I still feel broken, and I'm tired of being broken. I'm tired of hopping from one addiction to the next trying to escape myself. I don't want to hurt myself any more than I already have.
"What I need is a permanent band-aid." That's what I told my trainer the first day I met him. "Look," I said, "I'm broken." And I went on to explain to him what I've just explained to you here. "What I need is a permanent band-aid, and this 'training thing' better be it, because I'm out of options." (Those words may sound tough, but when choked out between sobs, tears and a runny nose, trust me...they're just pathetic.)
It wasn't quite a spontaneous decision, but almost. I had a part time job at the time cleaning the gym by my house. That's when I first saw Jacob: This high-energy bald guy with a perma-grin. Which would have been cheesy enough to make me want to smack the shine off his dome, except that he seemed genuine.
And he is.
I've been training with Jacob for about four weeks. I never thought I'd say this, but going to the gym is absolutely, definitely, without a doubt my favorite thing in the world right now. I look forward to my workouts and I dread the days between them. (It doesn't hurt that Mr.Clean is easy on the eyes, either.) My body is responding and showing changes I used to fantasize about while sitting on the couch eating ice-cream and watching The Biggest Loser.
I have high hopes for this new way of life which, by the way, is what I'm calling it. No more diets. No more fads. No more eating disorder. No more self-loathing. That's the goal, anyway. It's a process.
I'm working on the no diet thing first.
Congratulations on quitting meth, that's a difficult one to quit. Your story is quite moving and you've expressed yourself in a very touching way. Like you I am broken too and you're right, being aware of the sources of my issues, as you put it, doesn't make it better. Also like you I've turned to one addiction/distraction after another to escape the pain and I'm also tired of it. I'm working on breaking free myself. I wish you well on your journey to becoming a free and buff individual.
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