I say I was born hungry. I famously finished more bottles at the hospital than any baby before me. And I liked my bottle so much that the doctor put me on a diet at 6 months. If you look family photos from my early years, there’s my tiny 8 year old sister, my tall lanky brother and big fat baby me.
When I asked my mother why on earth she gave me so many bottles, she said, “You cried and cried and cried, until I gave you more.”
And there it was – that disease of more, but never enough. More, but never satisfied. I wanted more of everything -food, alcohol, drugs, love, money…it didn’t matter what it is was. I wanted more of anything on the outside to make me feel better on the inside. And when I had it, I was happy for about a second, until I was almost immediately – looking for more.
During a binge, I could have half the refrigerator in my mouth, but instead of being present with that, I was wildly searching for the next bite.
But the sad fact is that I was trying to fill the lonely emptiness within me with all sorts of things that couldn’t help me. No amount of ice cream, even the richest, most expensive Haagen Dazs can cure my sadness. No amount of red wine can help me face my fears. No amount of shopping can give me the love I so desperately craved.
The food served as quick relief from dealing. I buried my pain and fear under a sugar coma, but the problem is – they were still there.
But when I dealt with my pain and sadness and deep loneliness AND faced my fears and got through them, then I began to recover. And after many many decades of being a slave to my eating disorder master, I get to be free.
And I’m not just free from all my addictions, I am free to live life. Freely.
More on how to get there in upcoming posts.