I am an addict.
My drug of choice is sugar. But don’t let that fool you: Addiction is addiction. I’ve been using sugar as a feel-good drug since I was eight years old. When I read Russell Brand’s words on substance abuse — in an article I highly recommend reading — I see bits of myself.
“When I saw the tape a month or so ago, what was surprising was that my reaction was not one of gratitude for the positive changes I’ve experienced. Instead I felt envious of this earlier version of myself, unencumbered by the burden of abstinence. I sat in a suite at the Savoy hotel, in privilege, resenting the woeful ratbag I once was who, for all his problems, had drugs.”
Just replace sugar for drugs and you will perhaps have a glimpse of the minefield in which I walk. While I can easily note the number of bars available on my drive to work each day, they don’t tempt me. Food, however, is something we all need on a daily basis. In modern western society, it is practically omnipresent– always available, day or night — and much of the food available to us is processed (not whole) and packaged to tempt, chock-full of sugars.
Russell Brand writes,
“Don’t pick up a drink or drug, one day at a time. It sounds so simple, it actually is simple, but it isn’t easy — it requires incredible support and fastidious structuring.”
Put me in a restaurant or a grocery story and I will struggle mightily against the sugar monster begging to be fed. Sure, don’t shop hungry — we all know that advice,and I do my best to follow it. But sugar addiction has little to do with hunger. Don’t we all wish for a little something sweet after a meal? You’re not truly hungry then… and yet you desire a bit of sweetness. This is true for most people whom I know. But me? Even if I start out wanting just a bite, I often end up wanting an entire slice… and then after I savor it, I want more. I want more of the feelings and chemicals that rush through my body when I am savoring those first bites.
The fact is, though, that the sufferer must be a willing participant in their own recovery. They must not pick up a drink or drug. Just don’t pick it up — that’s all.
I’ve given up sugar before. In the spring of 2003, I went on the Atkins diet. The first couple of weeks were awful: I cried at the table sometimes (trying to not let my boys see) because I was craving fresh, homemade bread. I took Tylenol to combat the headaches from sugar withdrawal. Later on, I did feel much better without the simple sugars in my system and it became easier to avoid sugar, but it was always around in some form or other. I had lost 32 pounds when we threw a surprise birthday party for my husband. His mother made carrot cake with real cream cheese frosting. Once I had a taste of sugar again, I quickly returned to active addiction — and there went four-and-a-half months of hard work and self-denial. My weight slowly crept back up, bringing more pounds as baggage.
The fact is, though, that the sufferer must be a willing participant in their own recovery. They must not pick up a drink or drug. Just don’t pick it up — that’s all.
It’s hard enough to follow that wise advice about an illegal drug, and it is much easier said than done when we are talking about food. (Please understand that I am not underestimating the difficulty of breaking addiction! I am merely pointing out that food is more available than illegal drugs — at least for most of us.) I want to be one of those people who can have the occasional treat and not go overboard, falling into the abyss of abuse. It would be so much easier and nicer to be one of those people. To be able to eat just one thin slice of cheesecake and be utterly satisfied with 3 or 4 bites, to leave 10% on my plate as a testimony that You don’t own me, Cheesecake! would be incredibly gratifying. But right now, to envision the first scenario is often to desire more-More-MORE, to plunge headlong into the fullness of the entire dish.
I’m working hard to change. (Admittedly, some days I work harder than others.) I’ve been listening to meditation tapes CDs at night before I fall asleep. On stressful days, I’ll come home from work, drink a glass of water, and spent 25 minutes with a personalized session on CD from Positive Changes® before communicating with anyone. It puts me in a positive frame of mind and I no longer want to use food as the tool to try to make me feel better. This has been a big change for the better for me.
Limiting simple sugars in my diet (and here, diet = daily way of eating) is my desired modus operandi. To do so is to plan, shop, and eat intentionally. There is so much food being marketed at us that is not healthy and yet the USDA spent years telling us that it was the ground level of the food pyramid. (Hello, bread and cereals, I’m talking about you!) Have you looked at the ingredients and nutrition label on a typical granola bar? Manufacturers took the fat out of food, added sugar to make it palatable and told us it was healthy. I’ve actually gained weight trying to eat low-fat food because I was always hungry.
There are plenty of smart and healthful reasons to strongly limit one’s consumption of simple sugars. Jen on the Edge wrote about this a few months ago. I know that when I strongly limit my sugar intake I feel more energetic, once I get past the withdrawal symptoms. Yes, I do get withdrawal symptoms when I cut back strongly on sugar, the same withdrawal symptoms that I get when I forget to drink coffee!
I’ve spent many years now — all of adulthood, basically — trying to fight back against my genetics (tendency for adults in my family of origin to be overweight) and the excessive availability of food with high sugar content/empty calories. In most places it is easier to buy a pack of donuts or ice cream than it is to find some guacamole or an orange. While I like a relaxing day now and then, I also enjoy being active and productive. I’ve been struggling with foot problems for the past nine years and those problems have sidelined me to the bench sofa when I’d rather be out doing something active like hiking or kayaking or even walking. Obesity isn’t all about laziness, and fat-shaming hasn’t dug us out of the hole we’ve created in this country. Juggling Jenn has written a well-thought-out blog post on this very topic.
I live with thin people who will probably never be overweight; the boys all seem to have their father’s genetic tendencies when it comes to body shape and weight. I am not like them and I never will be like them. My parents were overweight most of their own adult lives, but their body types would never fit the “thin is beautiful” branding even if they had been fit and healthy. I inherited their build: I’m 5’10” tall and my “skinny clothes” — as a younger adult, after my first 2 babies and becoming a jogger — were a size 14. My personal healthy & fit goal is a size 16 because I’ve had four children and a somewhat botched hysterectomy (which I got the difficult way, complete with a 5-day hospital stay, four of those days without taking anything by mouth). So I actually become a bit irate when people assume that size 16 is humongous and think that size 6 is desirable for the entire population of women.
I figured out about 20 years ago that low-fat diets did NOT work for me, and that I’m much happier and more easily satisfied eating real food. [Gwen Shamblin’s Weigh Down Diet opened my eyes to more about this in 1997, along with my own rebellious nature regarding food choices and control in general. Again, I’m working on it. It’s apparently a life-long journey.] I’m learning about head-hunger (appetite) vs. true hunger, and I’m still trying to figure out daily what “enough” (satisfying the needs of my body) feels like. I’ve learned that I am a person for whom sugar is a dangerous trigger, but I’ve also learned that I need to live in a world where sugar exists. Dr. Atkins — perhaps rightly so — labeled me a sugar addict and I’m sure many other people have the same issues. I started treating sugar like a feel-good drug when I was eight years old. That is 40+ years of habit to overcome. But I am learning about how to treat my own body with respect. This is the only body I have and I want it to work well for many years to come.
Spokalulu 