I have a disease in my mind. You see, although it's the manifestation of the disease, its not about the food. I think that people think when they learn about the "allergy of the body" that's described in The Doctor's Opinion, they think that it means they can justify having a fixation on finding the right "foods" when not addressing the spiritual malady that we learn we have. By focusing on my spiritual program of recovery and not what I'm eating, I get to experience freedom from the obsession. It's a gift I don't take for granted.
I'm also a visual person. I do better when I can a picture of something to give it animation and life. And somewhere in the past 40-ish days I decided to give my disease a persona. This persona feels familiar because I've been under the influence of it's whims for a very long time. My disease has a name:
His name is Guido.
You see Guido lives in Bayonne New Jersey in the refurbished basement of his 89 year old tiny Italian mother who still presses his shirts and folds his underwear. He's 47 years old and his life is going nowhere. He sells used cars at the lot over by the fairgrounds. He remembers with fond nostalgia the times of Starsky and Hutch and wears the fashion to prove it. Velvet suit cut in an homage to the 70's, white spread collar dress shit underneath unbuttoned unfortunately too far to reveal a smattering of chest hair with a gold necklace laying on top of it. His hair plugs are going to take any day. He thinks his pinky ring is savage. You can get a whiff of the High Karati cologne.
Guido's sole mission in life is to render me dead. He truly believes I deserve nothing but pain and suffering and torture and turmoil. He is mean spirited, likes humor at the expense of others, and is just generally, pardon my French, trying to fuck up my shit. Here is a short list of his goals for my mind/body/spirit:
To be alone. To FEEL alone. To be emotionally cut off from virtually everyone who cares about you, unavailable to enjoy the fellowship you crave. Broke financially, because let's be honest, you don't really think I could pay cash for that much bingeing. No self-respect, no dignity, no hope. Unable to take care of your own personal hygiene. Unwilling to be honest with anyone. Fearful, irritable. Physical body broken, emotionally vacant, spiritually void.
The fun part of all of this is the Guido, being nothing if not resourceful, can change his form at a moment's notice to accommodate the needs of his victim. If it seems that her food issues are being reigned in, let's start fucking with her money, money settling down? Let's start messing with her relationships, creating friction between people I love. Whatever he can get at his fingertips, he will use to crush my hopes and dreams into oblivion. He wants me annihilated . He almost won.
But luckily, with a tiny mustard seed of faith, I recognized that I had received the gift of freedom from the obsession. I truly believed that a Higher Power had intervened on my behalf and taken me by the hand to beautiful new place called abstinence. Abstaining feels effortless right now. The compulsion is removed by abstaining from foods that I know trigger the allergy of the body and the obsession of the mind. I refrain from sugar/flour/DoorDash. The boundaries are lazer sharp and crystal clear. I know the lines I do not cross. And in turn for what feels like a small amount of surrender; we receive a disproportionally larger gift. Entire Abstinence. As someone who tried to "think" my way to freedom; I was dismayed to find out that knowledge was worth less that nothing. In fact it was a direct hinderance to my being able to let go of my self-will just long enough for Mike to take my hand.
One of the leaders of one of my favorite meetings says, "God sends out search and rescue missions for us addicts". Because I have been rescued. For as long as I had tried to think my way into right action, I was governed by a self-will that was determined to work as Guido's underling and keep me sabotaging any chance I might have at a real life. That I have finally surrendered to my disease and admitted that I am absolutely a compulsive eater to my core. I will never NOT be a compulsive overeater. I can never think my way into right action. I can't solve a problem with the mind that created it. I'm so grateful that I finally dropped the friggin rock, I can really only collapse in exhausted gratitude. That I am finally know that my THINKING is the problem, not just the food I put into my mouth. You can't turn a Volvo into a Porsche. I had sat in a lot of meetings wishing I could be struck ignorant. That I could let go of the incessant nagging drive to figure it out. Find the loophole. I can just stop. I can let go.
I finally recognize that I don't need Guido's influence in my life. Seeking Guido's approval almost killed me spiritually if not physically. I can't do it anymore. I'm done.
But who's going replace the void that Guido's place in my life? He was my common law spouse and he'd been with me for the past 20 years. Whoever was going to replace him better get his act together and help me or I'm going to throw a tantrum. He needs to be loving, possessing a borderline sardonic sense of humor that delights in the absurd but never revels in another person's pain. He wears his Power confidently, without the need to brag or boast. He needs to be patient, and understanding. He KNOWS that he can take care of me better than that sniveling weasel Guido. He's here, waiting to take you to a beautiful place you've never been. He wants to care for you. He want's you to trust him. Unlike Guido, he keeps his promises. He knows you're precious and deserve to be cherished. He's ready to do the heavy lifting. He's begging you to turn your back on Guido. " Please just leave him" He will never give you what you deserve. He will leave you hanging every time. "Please just trust me. I won't let you down." His name is Mike. He holds out his hand. I think to myself that the only thing left for Guido to do is kill me. I don't want to die. I've got shit to do.....
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