As we drove to the country this past weekend, my husband told us about bears. “Us” included myself, Beastlet #2 and Beastlet #3. (Beastlet #1 was working since he is nearly a full grown beast.)
My husband said, “You do know that there are bears in southwest Missouri and they will kill you.”
I said, “The bears won’t come up close to the road where we are.”
He said, “Oh yes they will. And they have big teeth and claws(he hooked his fingers for emphasis and made growling noises.”
I said, “Okay, Smartie! So what are we supposed to do if we happen upon a bear? Should we lie down and play dead, like in cartoons?”
My husband looked at me like I had just proposed playing fiddle to lull the bear to sleep. So I said, “So should we run?”
He said, “Can you run 50 miles an hour?”
Sometimes I really want to bop my husband over the head with a blunt object, but I digress. He said, “Duh! You fight for your life! Be ruthless!” He paused for emphasis. “Stab it in the eyes. Punch it in the nose. But always remember that when hit a bear in the most sensitive spot on its body that he is going to be seriously angry at you so you had better make it count!”
I then calmly explained to him that he was scaring Beastlet #2 and Beastlet #3. And since our future plans involved camping outside in tents, in the dark, he had better stop talking about bears.
Upon my return to work today, I recalled our conversation. The thing is, I don’t really like Monday mornings. I’m usually tired, coffee deprived and don’t like going to work. My brain reverts to self-protection mode. I therefore begin to conjure any method of anesthetization that will ease my suffering and since my place of employment regularly produces a plethora of treats, delightful to the eye and extremely pleasing to the tooth, my brain hones in on the one thing I want most in this world…COOKIES. Immediately, frustration and shame washed over me as I begin the familiar argument.
I will go to the café and buy cookies.
You must not go to the café and buy cookies.
Sometimes I can successfully win the argument but frequently I lose, as evidenced by the tight pants I wore today(to torture myself to behave). I stood at my desk and fought back tears. Why am I so weak? Why can’t I just eat healthy snacks and be good? This craving bear is freakin’ huge! I am fighting for my life. Why can’t I be more ruthless?
Despair has been a familiar friend for the past few months as I battle serious depression. Food is a comfort and a trigger for more depression. I have chosen poorly more often than wisely in a desperate attempt to find some semblance of solace. I had lunch with a good friend last week and we discussed how certain foods accelerate depression but convexly are the things that offer the most comfort. The best tasting foods make us feel better in the moment but worse over time. She said to me, “I now understand why people take drugs. They just want relief from the continual pain.”
I live in a torturous cycle of depression which prompts my food addiction and throws me headlong into a snake infested pit of extreme mental agony. I’ll be honest, my situation frequently feels hopeless. Willpower is not an effective tool against weight gain at this point in time. The thirsty man cries out for relief in the form of water, but for me, food is a necessary curse. My quality of life hinges on how little or much I eat. The types of foods I eat determine not only whether I feel happy or sad, but whether I feel satisfied or wanting. Basically, pick your method of torture.
This morning as I mulled over all of these things, I recalled one of the key components to any recovery plan: accountability. I acknowledge my inability to refrain from indulgence and thereby recognize my great need for assistance. This morning help came in the form of a co-worker who walked with me to the café and made sure I did not buy cookies. Right now I am too weak to stand and I need someone to hold me up. I prayed for help, and God sent a friend.
I am so thankful for Tricia. She saved me. Today I am 100% cookie free. Was it embarrassing to have to ask for help? Yes! Was it necessary? Yes! Was I ruthless against the bear? YES! Today if you are fighting for your life, you need to do everything humanly possible to survive. That bear is going to eat you piece by piece if you don’t fight back. Whether you are struggling against addiction to food, alcohol, drugs, or any other manner of vice, I encourage you to be ruthless. Protect your life at any cost. Do not roll over and play dead. Gouge out the eyes and run like hell! Your life is too precious, too sacred to do anything less.
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