recovery

There are so many things to recover from, no? Recover from surgery, recover from alcoholism, recover from a bad childhood, recover from the flu, recover from a trip. The list is never ending. But what is "recovery" anyway? I suppose it means different things to different people, and different things based on what one is recovering from. And when does one know that they need to be in recovery?

All philosophical questions that I'm quite sure I'm not up to answering tonight. And knowing myself, they'll be questions that I won't think about by the time I have the answers...assuming I ever do.

So, why the jag about recovery? It's a subject that came up during the week...directly, indirectly, and in regards to different things. When it comes to the alcoholism piece, I have a pretty clear answer: It's not simply about not drinking anymore. It's about a psychic change. It's about learning to "deal with life on life's terms" by using healthy coping skills, instead of running straight to the bottle...instead of running away, period. The answer for that one is fairly easy because I heard it over, and over in 12 step meetings, and in therapy...and it is something I teach to my own clients.

But then there is food. Food...which I am completely powerless over. In the 5 days of our vacation I gained 6 pounds because I ate every cookie, chocolate, and piece of pie that was in my line of sight. It's simple; it was there, so I ate it. I knew that everything I was eating was going to make me sick, but I ate it anyway. I knew that what I was eating was going to exacerbate the physical pain I was already having, but I ate anyway. I knew that I would gain weight, and I did it anyway. So what would food recovery look like for me? I've had periods where I was "good"-where I stuck to a diet that was healthy, that eliminated all of the offenders in my life...and I didn't apologize or feel guilty about it. I could just say no to bread, and candy, and whatever else came my way.

But then I fell off the wagon. I know exactly when...when i went in for my shoulder surgery a little over a year ago. I was so frakking petrified that I decided I could allow myself some comfort food...and I've never really gotten back on the wagon since. Oh sure, I get a few days, weeks, or hours here and there...but nothing resembling recovery...I white knuckle every moment of it. I'm running away, and I'm on a frakking runaway mustang the second I smell sugar. 

There's that classic question you hear in food recovery circles, "It's not what you're eating, it's what is eating you." So, what is eating me? Well, the obvious, if you've been reading my blog; my body crapping out on me, and my continuing drama of what to be when I grow up. There is also life-long anxiety, and depression to add a little fuel to the fire. Chronic pain that has gotten far worse over the last year and a half. Helplessness, and hopelessness. Yeah, those are the real things I need to recover from. 

I'll let you know how that goes.