Addiction, Compassion and the Long Road Home

When I began writing these essays, I made a couple of promises to myself:

1. I will never write something just for the sake of posting something. There will be no filler to be found here.
2. The words I write will be my own, my own form of self expression, no matter how deep or personal they may be. These words are my art, they are me.

What follows is a piece that cuts right to the heart of me, exposing things that I’ve kept hidden for a long time, to my own detriment as it turned out.

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Recently I discovered that I weigh more than I ever have in my entire life. The exact number isn’t important, but I will say it’s a… very unhealthy weight. Needless to say I was not best pleased by this intelligence, and it forced me to do some deep soul-searching. What I found was, as you may expect, not pretty, however it was eye-opening.

There are of course many ways one can react to the realization that they have reached an unhealthy weight, with the resultant medical issues that go with it. Denial is common, as well as depression, even anger. Even knowing that there is no one to blame but oneself for such an increase in abdominal circumference, the negative emotions pour over oneself like a wave, while the mind desperately searches for a way to justify the situation.

Certainly I’ve felt all three of these emotions concerning at one point or another. Denial, more a cause of my difficulties than an actual emotion, has done the most damage. The ability to pretend I wasn’t slowly destroying myself is a powerful and pernicious one, but also an entirely voluntary one. Depression is certainly present, at least in a mild form, as the fear that too much damage has been done sets in. And of course there is anger, mostly at myself for allowing such a state of affairs to occur, especially after the events of a few years ago. I should explain.

In August of 2011 I had what the medical community calls a ‘non ST segment myocardial infarction,’ or a mild heart attack. I’d like to point out that the medical community and I differ greatly in our definition of the word ‘mild,’ but that’s another tale for another time. Suffice it to say it was a terrifying experience, and one which I have no desire to repeat. Of course I was ordered to improve my diet — which was ‘healthy’ in much the same way that Donald Trump is ‘subtle’ — and reduce the stress in my life. It took for a little while, but soon enough my old habits resurfaced, and I was right back to eating poorly and not exercising at all. While thankfully I have not had a repeat performance of my myocardial infarction, other health issues have cropped up, from acid reflux and joint problems to the inability to run more than 20 steps without feeling as if a heart attack would be an improvement.

At this point you may be shaking your head and wondering how a reasonably intelligent human being, one who has already had a brush with death sufficient to frighten anyone into a healthy lifestyle, could do this to himself. I don’t have a good answer for that dear reader, and I feel as if I should. I do however have an answer, for what it’s worth. I hesitate to raise it for several reasons, not the least of which being shame, but also because it sounds so much like an excuse, as if I’m trying to lay blame for my own poor choices on something else. I will lay the facts before you, not to beg forgiveness, nor to invite your scorn, but to be as honest and forthcoming as possible, in the hopes that I might help / inspire / comfort someone with similar struggles.

You see, I have an addiction. A very serious one from a health perspective, though some still scoff at the idea. I have a serious addiction to sugar — specifically, to Coca Cola. I drink far, far, far too much of it. Like water if I’m honest. Indeed, in many ways I rely on it to get through my day. I don’t drink coffee, so soft drinks have become my caffeine. We all know the devastating effects of soft drinks on our bodies, and are now beginning to understand the debilitating effects of massive amounts of sugar (or more specifically, high-fructose corn syrup) over the long term.

Some pay pooh-pooh the idea of sugar addiction, but I stand before you a living example of what it can do. I’m fighting the addiction as I write these words and I know that the coming days will be worse.

Because of my precarious income situation (I’m a copywriter searching for agency work), there have been long periods where I have not been able to have soft drinks, and they have been something close to hell. I’m ashamed to admit that I’ve become quite adept at hiding the effects from others, but they are there. From mental sluggishness and increased bouts of anxiety, the ‘withdrawal’ is not a fun experience.

That brings me to my current situation. At the beginning of this essay I mentioned the emotions I felt when I realized just how much damage I had done and was still doing, mostly out of denial and a vague sense of self loathing. As understandable as those emotions may be, none of them are helpful in beginning the long road back to health and happiness. A negative emotion like anger may be a good fire starter, but it must be maintained by more positive feelings and beliefs, such as compassion, self respect, honesty and hope.

Of course friends and family are a significant part of one’s recovery from addiction and move to a healthier lifestyle. In my case, I have no family to speak of, and I tend to deal with things on my own whenever possible, so that will be another hurdle I’ll have to face.

The final piece for my particular recovery process (such as it is) is the complete rebuilding of my diet. Recovery from any trauma is made nearly impossible if your diet is unhealthy — and mine most assuredly was. I’m currently switching over to a (mostly) plant-based, whole foods diet, reigniting my deep (but seldom used) love of cooking to try new, healthier dishes. If nothing else, this recovery process will be tasty.

I will, over time, use this venue as a place to mark my progress on the long road home, back to the land of the living. I hope you’ll forgive the indulgence and perhaps even offer a wave as I pass by.

Every little bit helps.