When Escape is Actually a Trap!

Have you ever had the kind of day that necessitated escape? Did the report malfunction? Did your friend shout at you for no good reason? Did the pain from your chronic condition beat you about the head with chains of despair? Was the strain too much for your weary shoulders? Did you turn to that vice again for comfort even though you know it only tightens its grip on your soul? Take heart, Dear One. You are not alone.

My friend wrote to me today from the tail end of her treatments for breast cancer. For months now she has endured wave after wave of radiation and chemotherapy. All of her hair fell out. She has struggled with radiation burns, sadness and self-pity. Some days she wonders if she can take it any more, but she has two young boys who need her. So she fights with all the energy she can muster and presses forward. My friend is my hero. She is courageous in her fragility. She walks a path she did not choose and weeps with suffering. I too grieve that she must suffer. How I wish I could change her story, but I’m not the author of it.

Yesterday was a very tense day at work. My leader asked me to schedule a meeting with several very important people. It was comical in its complexity. In fact, I felt somewhat like it would be much easier to fly a kite on a breezeless day than put all of those people in a room together for an hour. His exact words via email were, “Margaret, make your magic happen.” But the stars did not align. Travel schedules conflicted. Instructions were vague, causing me to chase down additional details. It was frustrating and exhausting.  Finally, I said to one of the ladies I was working with, “My wand is broken. My bippity, boppity, boo is all bummed out.” And we had a nice little laugh. That’s how it goes sometimes. But as I was driving home I felt the itch–the overwhelming urge–the necessity to escape my stress headache with ice cream. Chick Fil A ice cream to be exact.

Let the reader be advised that this vice is one of my strongest. When I consume Chick Fil A ice cream, I go all in. I don’t eat it to enjoy a little snack, I eat it to escape my problems. It is an elixir, a tonic, an anesthetic. But not only does it not fix the problem, it hooks me once more. Whatever it is about sugar that affects my brain, turns me into a raging lunatic who must consume until I’m sick. And then, once the sickness wears off, I need more. I am disheartened to admit how frequently I have given into this craving and fallen prey to months of daily indulging. It is a horrible addiction–one I try to avoid at all costs because I know what a terrible trap it is.

I have spent the majority of my life turning to food for emotional comfort and therefore, no matter how long I practice living a healthy lifestyle, there are times when I must strain against the urge to turn to it once more. I do not always succeed, but today I choose not give in. Today, I choose courage in the midst of frailty and hope instead of despair. I choose to take long, deep breaths, hug my sons, and write instead. Even though today was worse than yesterday. Even though Chick Fil A ice cream is still calling (screaming) my name.

There isn’t usually an easy answer to fighting against the desire to escape our circumstances. But escape is actually an illusion. We chase after and cling to wisps of smoke thinking it will “take the edge off”. Which they may–for a moment. But then we face once more the jagged path ahead. It takes moxy to stand in the midst of suffering and refuse to try to escape. Often no one even notices the sacrifices we make. We cling to sobriety like a man clinging to a tree in a hurricane. We want to let go because our arms are tired, but to let go is certain doom. So we just keep holding on.

Today if you are struggling against a powerful vice or addiction, take heart. Your addiction does not define you. You can say no. I know it feels impossible. I know your arms are tired. I know it feels like an escape, but it’s not. It’s the mouth to a trap door from which it is very, very difficult to escape.

Take a deep breath.

Ask for help.

Pray for peace.

And never, ever stop fighting.