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| Some people surely can co-exist peacefully with these-- I am not one of those people. |
After just shopping with Sis Saturday in Connecticut, and showing her the bag of Newman's Own Ginger-O's [creme-filled ginger sandwich cookies] and telling her I can't buy those, I can't control myself with them, they're so good, I succumbed tonight.
Yes, things have been very rough. But I stopped into Whole Foods in Montclair to get good things--a box of assorted Tazo teabags [with names like Awake, Calm and Decaf Chai] and half & half to give it a little rich kick. A big mug of something warm, soothing, nurturing, peaceful, safe.
Instead I saw the smaller bag of Ginger-O's, 9 ounces, on sale at two for $5. So I got a package. And as I plopped it in the metal cart, I thought, I should call Patsy. I have my cell phone. She'll pick up. She will tell me not to buy these, that it will be hard not to eat the whole pack. Sis would also say not to get them, for my health. Plus, these may be on sale, but you know it's no sale at all for your health.
But I didn't call. I bought the tea, the half & half and the cookies and guess what? The cookies were gone by the time I opened my car door in front of the house. Just to be perfectly honest, that bag contained 18 cookies--or nine servings. One serving [two cookies] contains 130 calories, 20 grams of carbohydrates and 13 percent of the Daily Value for saturated fat.
My Dad used to eat things in the car, too--candy he'd bought on sale at CVS, for example. It did not help that the ride home from Whole Foods took me by Van Dyk Manor, his home for the last six months of his life. I thought of the workers there, of Dad in his bed, of my many visits--day and night, sun and rain. I can't see him anymore. What's the point of eating healthfully?
Yet as a person who battles overeating, I am recording this here so it helps me and maybe even others who struggle with this. I am being real and truthful so my recovery can be real and truthful. I want to face exactly how it feels in these dark moments, so I don't forget.
Think of me as an alcoholic, lying in the gutter with a broken bottle. After all, there have been and likely still are some serious Irish drinkers in my family.
How am I any different?
Cheers.
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Alice. You are not alone. I have done this from time to time (as I'm sure many others have)and I know how awful it feels. But, take heart, tomorrow is new day and a fresh start. Love, Linda
ReplyDeleteI am struggling with this too. My girl baked chocolate chip cookies and I had to dip in. We need to find a happy place to have a few little treats because life should afford pleasure. Sometimes, balance just won't be possible. Now it's done, it can't be undone, and as Linda says, we just need to move forward.
ReplyDeleteYup, the best thing I love about BitchCakes is that she effs up often and gets back up on that horse and keeps on moving. Life is not linear and not consistent. The most important thing you do is the next meal, next day, next week after those cookies.
ReplyDeleteI completely agree with you btw on the addictive nature of food. And, all the more difficult for us because we HAVE to eat. Drinkers don't have to drink, smokers don't have to smoke, gamblers don't have to gamble, druggers don't have to drug. Every day, we have to go mano y mano with the stuff that lures us, seduces us, yet nurtures us and keeps us alive.
You are in a very tender place and I applaud your trying to care for yourself--the teas, the workouts, the gardening. But also be kind to your stumbles. Bring out the mother in you and mother yourself. If Figgy did what you did to those cookies in a similar painful place, you would undoubtedly not condone it, but you wouldn't condemn it either.
It's small small comfort, I'm sure, Alice, but we are all here, reading your every word, thinking of you daily and sending our loves and prayers.
Dear Lin, Nan and Kim, thank you for your support. I will somehow find a way through all this--a way, I trust, that does not involve copious amounts of Ginger-O's. thank you again. Kim, i should read that BitchCakes blog. Love, alice
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