Grandma Carmen told me that she could never have a drop of booze again. When I looked surprised at her claim during celebration times, she asked me, ‘Would you offer half a line to a cocaine addict? No, right? So why should I have a sip?’
She shared her struggle with me when I was 25 years old. She said she will always feel the liquid poison run through her veins. Addiction is something you have to live with, she told me with a smile. She compared it to a monster waiting to come out of its box. She had sensed I had my own troubles. She did not say much. She was very private, we often chatted when no- one was around. She said it was a daily commitment not to go back there, that it was easier if you had a reason. Family was hers. I understood the commitment part for sure. I, too, am an addict for life. I am not proud of it, but I am OK with it. I know I will always be tempted.
Food will be the issue for me. Sex and sport are under control; getting older helps to keep those at bay. I am no young buck overflowing with testosterone anymore. But I know it will be a constant fight not to fall back into food’s sweet and sour embrace. Food is everywhere you look and poses an easy trap to fall back into. If I give into temptation, I know I will fall back into the prison cell I once built around me. So I resist it. I fight it with all of my guts and heart daily. I often drive past the bakery and wonder if I could just get a little treat, but then I remember the feeling of sunshine through my entire body while I eat it, followed by the sensation of heavy rain soon after. I have to stay away from the blacklist of food that I store in my head so it is easier to say no to temptations on the spot. As long as I stick to that list, I won’t jump back into a splurge, and the desire, and later the guilt, won’t take over again. It gets hard when I have had a bad day, if I am emotional or if I can see or smell one of my decadent treats of choice. But I try to stay strong.
