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A World Without Facebook

A few days ago, rumors wafted around the Internet about Facebook shutting down in mid-March. Panic ensued, illustrating just how addictive this thing has become.

Mood music:

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Mm7KUQ_uXK0&fs=1&hl=en_US&rel=0&color1=0x3a3a3a&color2=0x999999]

Call me nuts (well, I am a little nuts). But as a guy who’s recovering from a runaway addiction, I know it when I see it.

And since an addict is forever playing a frustrating game of whack-a-mole, I admit the thought of Facebook going away panicked me a little, too.

There are times when I’m embarrassed by my own Facebook behavior. Sometimes I’ll stare at it for hours even if there’s really nothing new happening. It’s easy to use it to be a busybody and nose around in other people’s worlds, though some folks are only too happy to supply the fodder.

Last summer my friend Linda noted that I changed the settings on my Facebook page to allow wall comments. It amused her because it was my birthday. She knows me well. Truth is, I wanted to see the birthday messages. I have an ego to stroke.

I suffer from an inflated ego. It’s a side-effect of where I’ve been. I have this odd fear of being forgotten. And I didn’t want to be forgotten on my birthday. It sounds ridiculous. But there it is.

OCD types have big egos. Achieving big things is one of the ways we try to fill in that hole in our souls.  In my profession, getting access to the major power players of information security is a rush. I feel like I am somebody as a result. When I don’t make it to a big security conference, the wheels in my head start spinning. I start to worry that by not being there, I become irrelevant.

With this blog, when I write something that really connects with people, the ego grows a few sizes larger.

I’m somewhat ashamed about this. But I also think it’s a common thing among us. When people say they want their birthday to pass quietly without hearing from people, I don’t buy it.

Everyone wants some attention. That is exactly why Facebook took off.

People suddenly found they had a way to project themselves in ways never before possible. Wannabe writers suddenly got to become “published” writers because they had a platform to do it with. For the most part, this has been a good thing, because a lot of those writers are very good.

But it’s also become an outlet for a never-ending supply of mind junk. And I’m only too happy to consume it.

There’s small comfort in the fact that I’m not alone.

For me it’s complicated further by my profession. In the media world I exist in, proliferating your content is vital to survival. If nobody sees the content, why would anyone want to advertise with us?

So I can’t completely put Facebook down and walk away.

I also use it to push out the contents of this blog. I won’t lie: Some of it is driven by my OCD impulses, some of it is because I badly want to break some stigmas.

Facebook, Twitter and the like are like a rushing river. Throw a toy boat on the water and it’ll be gone from view in milliseconds. 

So we throw duplicate copies of the toy boat into the current every few hours.

I’m no better than the other people who worried about Facebook going down.

I also know people who can stay off Facebook for days and weeks at a time. I envy them.

The best I can do, since I can’t extract myself from Facebook, is be a positive voice and give people something they might be able to use while I’m here.

It beats the shit out of whining.

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Am I Too Hard on Myself?

A friend asked that question yesterday. I’ve certainly been accused of being too hard on myself before. My step-mother reads this blog and told me I should give myself a break. Steve Lambert, former editor of The Eagle-Tribune, said I was too hard on myself when I wrote the “One of My Biggest Regrets” post.

Mood music:

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The short answer is that sometimes I am, most of the time I’m not.

When I was at my absolute worst, I knew my soul was in deep trouble and I hated myself for not having the will to do something about it. I call it my long road through self-hatred. Back then I would be hard on myself by wallowing in the corner or, more accurately, in my car, where I would go on many, many binges.

If I had the ability to cry it out back then, I would have probably binged less. But I’ve never been good at crying, so I’d let the rage fill me and I’d do my best to destroy myself. It’s not that I wanted to die. It’s that I hated and wanted to punish myself. Giving in to my addictions was a lot like taking a thick leather belt and lashing myself a few hundred times.

That’s what happens when mental illness and addiction burn wild with no management. You end up being hard on yourself, and nothing good comes of it. In fact, it just makes things worse.

Today I’m hard on myself in a different way. I come on here and write about what a shithead I was the day before, and in the process I fix my course and work on doing better. That’s much more healthy.

I was feeling stupid yesterday because I purchased a new pair of boots and a pair of pants on Amazon.com. I needed the boots, but not the pants. It was a splurge with money we don’t necessarily have. Call it no big deal, but I know better. Sometimes, when I’m not letting the food addiction or wine guzzling control me, I let the spending addiction control me. Or the Internet addiction.

That’s when I have to remind myself that I’m being a jerk. And then I try to do better.

When I put up my wall and fail to let family in, I need to come on here and remind myself that I’m doing something wrong so I can fix it. Same thing when I’m thinking about things in absolutes.

In the final analysis, I see nothing wrong with being hard on myself as long as it leads to self improvement.

It’s the brand that leads to self pity and self destruction that’s the problem.

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It’s a Disease, Not a Choice: Part 2

The Sunday night step study meeting I wrote about yesterday gave me more to think about than I could cram into one post. Another thing that stuck with me is how society continues to mistake addiction for choice.

Mood music:

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cECTX3mPu1o&fs=1&hl=en_US&rel=0]

I’ve tackled this subject many times in this blog. In the first “It’s a Disease, Not a Choice” post a few months back, I noted that the addicted brain works differently.

My problem was binge eating and a growing dependence on wine, further complicated by the variety of pain pills I was prescribed for the aches and pains caused, ultimately, by my bad habits. I was a less-than-ideal husband and dad. You just couldn’t rely on me. I’d sneak around feeding my addiction and then cover my tracks. Sometimes I would blatantly lie about it. [See “The Liar’s Disease“] I didn’t lie to be evil. I did it because the shame was too much for me to handle.

You might also say I didn’t know any better.

One thing’s for certain: I didn’t wake up one morning and decide it would be a laugh riot to slowly destroy myself and hurt everyone around me in the process.

To someone watching a loved one in relapse, the question is always “How the fuck could HE/SHE do this to ME?”

Here’s the ugly truth: Alcoholism — addictive behavior, period — is a disease. Nobody chooses it. They are chosen instead. It controls you like a puppet. You know as you’re doing that addictive action that it’s wrong and you hate every second of it. But your motor skills have taken over and you CAN’T stop.

Sure, we can shake it in time and find recovery, but relapse is a natural part of the disease. In fact, relapse is something I probably worry about the most, because I’ve been relatively lucky up to this point in my 12-Step program.

I know it can creep up on me and regain control at any moment, before I know what hit me.

In one of my favorite TV shows, “The West Wing,” Leo McGarry describes where the mind goes:

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ma3d-YdLjCs&version=3&rel=1&fs=1&showsearch=0&showinfo=1&iv_load_policy=1]

“My brain works differently,” he says, followed by,” I don’t get drunk in front of people. I get drunk alone.”

It’s the same way for a food addict. You can’t have just one slice of pizza. It has to be the whole box. I once joked to a friends that I can’t eat just five. And when I really wanted to numb my frustrations in a bag of junk, I always went peddle to the metal out of sight from others; typically when I was alone in my car.

At Sunday night’s meeting, someone brought up another thing about addicts and choice: We all have choices in life, but when we become addicted to something, choice is destroyed. We become slaves to an evil force that’s far more powerful than our sense of reason, right or wrong. We become slaves to the substance. We have no choice but to feed it.

But the story doesn’t end there. 

My own experience is that there is NEVER a point of no return. Slaves sometimes break free of their captors. On rare occasions they come back with a shotgun and kill the bastards. Most of the time the slave just runs away, hoping to avoid recapture. In a world where addiction is the captor, relapse is when the oppressor catches up to you and puts you back in chains.

I broke free. But I always have to watch my back.

A family friend has a dad who has suffered a long time with alcoholism. He achieved years of sobriety, only to relapse. Now he’s in a very bad place.

He’s a slave again.

I’m praying for him.

Even when the addict is returned to slavery, they still bring something to the table that the rest of us can learn from:

They show you what it’s like to suffer, and their example serves as a warning.

Make no mistake about it: This is some seriously complicated shit.

I’m just glad to be free today. I managed to see through the haze one day and I got my choices back.

Here’s hoping I don’t lose them again.

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The Hole in Your Soul

A lot of changes to my program of sobriety and abstinence are under way, and I feel like I’m running on nuclear power. Last night was my first Big Book Step Study meeting, which is quite different from the speaker-discussion meetings I’m used to. It only took me a few seconds to realize why I had to be there.

Mood music:

A lot of times when someone sobers up or stops binge eating, it’s a white-knuckle experience.

It’s not just because you’re missing your junk and the momentary feeling it gives you. It’s because the hole in your soul — the thing that drove you to addiction in the first place — is still there. If you don’t deal with that hole, you might stay clean for a year or two. But sooner or later, you’ll fall right back into the old, insidious patterns.

Speaker-discussion meetings are a vital tool for the initial clean-up. You can’t start working on the hole until you stop the addictive behavior. It did me a ton of good and I still need to go to those events, but it’s no longer enough. The Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous is all about dealing with the hole, and studying it more closely is a must if I’m going to stay clean.

Studying the pages will also pull me deeper into the meaning of working the 12 Steps.

I also have a new sponsor starting this week. Instead of me simply telling him my plan of eating for the day, we’ll talk about the deeper issues at the heart of sobriety and abstinence. I’m looking forward to it.

My life is full of Blessings. This program is the one that allowed for everything else.

I’m glad I’m starting to take it more seriously.

A guy at last night’s meeting noted that there are two types of addicts:

–The type who is doomed and DOESN’T KNOW IT, and

–The type that’s doomed and KNOWS IT.

The latter type has a better chance of escaping that fate, because in knowing you’re headed for disaster you might be willing to take action. I’m glad I was that type.

I had an advantage: Several years of brutal therapy for OCD. The tools I had to develop to manage that are a lot like those you need to clean up. And it was all about identifying the hole in my soul.

It’s still there, but I think it’s getting smaller all the time.

Because I keep working on it.

I’ll have to until the day I die.

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Midwest Center for Fraud & Bullshit

Cleaning out the trunk of my car yesterday, I came across a stack of cassette tapes from a period in my life when I was so desperate I’d spend stupid sums of money on anything to remove my fear and anxiety.

These tapes were part of a program that cost me some $450. Each tape, sold by the Midwest Center for Stress & Anxiety, is designed to help people learn the skills to defeat anxiety and depression without medication.

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I ordered the so-called free trial in 2006 after seeing all the late-night TV infomercials with Lucinda Bassett, mastermind of the program. I worked the program diligently. But overall, the program wasn’t even close to what I needed.

I called the Midwest Center before the free trial period was up to tell them I’d be sending the tapes and DVDs back. No go, an impatient phone rep told me. They had already charged the card number I gave them. No refund.

Meanwhile, I received a package of vitamins in the mail with ingredients designed to reduce stress and balance the brain chemistry. At first it struck me as odd, since the concept on paper was a lot like other pills the center typically railed against. They weren’t anti-depressant-caliber pills like Prozac. They were just vitamins. I saw them for what they were: an expensive placebo.

I never asked for the vitamins. Yet there they were, and they were charging me extra for something I didn’t order or want.

The phone reps basically told me too bad, they had already charged my card and there were no refunds. I should have read the fine print.

So, the program to attack anxiety and depression simply made those things rage within me even worse than before.

At some point, I dumped the tapes in a box in my trunk, forgot about them and moved on. I found more lasting tools to manage my OCD and the resulting fear, anxiety and depression, and that was the end of it.

When I found the tapes, I chucked them in the trash along with the rest of the rubbish I was clearing out of the car.

When I came back inside, I found myself looking up articles about the Midwest Center and found some surprising items.

First, I found obituaries for Lucinda Bassett’s husband, David Bassett, co-principal of the self-help empire. The various reports were that he committed suicide in June 2008. Having lived through the horror of loved ones committing suicide, I’m reluctant to say anything bad here. I feel badly for Lucinda Bassett. To lose someone you love that way is one of the worst things you could ever go through.

Still, I couldn’t help but find it sadly, painfully ironic that THIS GUY would end his own life.

Here’s something I found that was written shortly after Bassett’s death. The author is STEVE SALERNO, author/essayist, musician, teacher, and blogger. (Check out his SHAMblog) He wrote:

This past June 7 (2008), 53-year-old David Bassett walked onto a California beach and ended his life with a shotgun. This took place not far from the home he shared with his wife, Lucinda. If the names sound vaguely familiar, it’s because David and Lucinda Bassett were principals in the Midwest Center for Stress & Anxiety.Not a few of those who left their thoughts were refugees from the Center’s in-house discussion forum, where their critical remarks had been expunged or edited; a few claimed to have been banned altogether. Collectively, they seemed to feel they’d been abused, if not conned. The gist was that the Center had used misleading claims and credentials to charge them a lot of money for programs that didn’t work (or at least hadn’t worked for them). To be fair, a number of Center apologists also weighed in, and for a while we had a spirited, thought-provoking give-and-take going.A prospective customer might reasonably ask: If the Center’s programs can’t even prevent one of the Center’s owners from killing himself…?

I also found a site known as the Complaint Board, where a fellow by the name of Alfred logged his complaints about the Bassett empire:

Lucinda and David Bassett flood late night infomercial TV with their overpriced Attacking Anxiety and Depression schlock program. They advertise a ’30-day risk free trial’ for just $9.95, the so called ‘shipping/Handling charge’ (inflated as any typical infomercial ripoff), the hook being that the S/H charge is all you pay for the 30 day ‘trial period’.Then when you aren’t magically cured by this collection of cassette tape in 30 days, send it back with no obligation to pay the $75.00 a month that they bill your credit card for the next 6-7 months. Do not believe this CRAP for a minute. They start ripping you off immediately with the inflated shipping charge and then start removing your money 30 days from the ORDER DATE which typically is 10-14 days BEFORE the 30 day trial period STARTS. By the time the ’30 day trial’ is over they have already taken the first FULL payment of $75.00 (+ tax) by 2 WEEKS, even when you decide you don’t want to buy this craprogram. One of Lucy’s top-secret cures is to ‘Drink 8 glasses of water everyday’ and ‘quit smoking and drinking’ DUH!! Gee for such wisdom it only costs 450 bucks! If these amateur Pyschobees had a grain of credibility would they operate so Don Lapre-like? It will take weeks to get your refund (if ever) A wiser approach would be to work for the Bassett’s. Then you can buy the ‘program’ for $20 and save yourself $425 just 90% off the ripoff price they charge everyone else.

That sounded a lot like my experiences with the program.

To be fair, this program probably has worked for people. I’ve seen plenty of positive reviews over the years. It’s just that there is no one size fits all. What works for one won’t work for another. It’s the same with medication. What worked for me won’t necessarily work for the next guy or gal.

There’s always that roll of the dice.

I just don’t think it should cost someone $450 to handle the dice.

Here’s the real problem, though:

You can tell a person to read the fine print, but a depressed, anxious person isn’t thinking about the fine print when they’re up at 3 a.m. watching those infomercials.

A person like that is desperate, and when they see a TV program telling them how easily the program will work in their lives, they’re not thinking about the fine print. They hear the words “free trial” and dash for the phone with credit card in hand. They figure the credit card number is just a placeholder. They don’t expect to actually be charged. Sure, they’re engaged in stupid thinking. But when you’re mentally and emotionally sick, stupid thinking is a way of life.

That’s what this program is: A money-sucker that preys on desperate people.

The lesson here is that you can’t go for anything packaged as a quick fix.

Nothing — and I mean NOTHING — will cure you in 15 weeks or even 30.

Getting truly well is a process that takes years. And you are never cured.

That’s my personal experience, anyway.

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A Sober, Abstinent New Year’s Eve

I used to revel in New Year’s Eve excess. I’d get blasted on vodka and “head-wreckers” in my Revere basement. I’d binge on Chinese food. I’d wake up promising God I’d never do that again, then I’d promptly break the promise.

Last night I stayed sober and abstinent. The food was weighed out as usual. I drank coffee. The niece slept over. Erin introduced Sean to “Dr. Who.”

Duncan read his cousin a bedtime story.

Life doesn’t suck.

Happy New Year.

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A Year in the Life

This isn’t a post about New Years resolutions. I don’t need a holiday to make changes in my life. IT IS about lessons I’ve learned in an effort to make resolutions.

Mood music:

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pNUU8jHXLMg&fs=1&hl=en_US&rel=0]

There’s been plenty of unpleasant stuff this year. I’ve watched two marriages fall apart. We had a couple months where money was painfully tight. My recovery has never been easy. But that’s life.

A big fistful of goodness slammed down on me, too. Me, Erin and the kids took two drives to the DC area and back. During the first trip we got a private tour of the White House West Wing, seeing the Oval Office, Rose Garden and press briefing room. I got to meet up with good friends in San Francisco, Toronto, New York and Chicago, among other places. My recovery was tested daily, but I held it together.

Making New Year’s resolutions used to be a compulsive activity for me. I was always so desperate for something better that I fiendishly and feverishly made lists of what I would do in the coming year:

–Stop binge eating

–Stop worrying about what other people think of me

–Stop trying to please everyone

–Stop letting my mind spin with worry

–Face down my fears

I used to go crazy about all that stuff, all to no avail.

By the end of the first week of a new year, these resolutions were cast aside. The eating resolution went first, then the bit about worrying about what others think.

Thing is, I eventually tackled everything on the list. But it was a much longer process than the instant-reset fixes we have a habit of pursuing at the start of every new year.

As far as I’m concerned, there is no reset button. The journey begins when you’re born and ends when you die. Case closed.

In that spirit, I promise to KEEP AT the following:

–I will keep drinking coffee and savoring the occasional cigar. I put down the food and have sworn off alcohol. We all have a collection of addictions, and my approach is to hold firm against those that cause me the most dysfunction. Coffee suits me just fine, and the cigars are infrequent.

–I will keep listening to metal music, because it keeps me sane.

–I will keep enjoying a good humorous tale, especially the off-colored variety. 

– I will keep up and increase the devotion to my wife and children. In doing so, I will keep up and increase my devotion to my Faith.

– I will keep feeding my appetite for history and learning from the hardships of those who came before me.

–I will write a TON of articles in the world of cybersecurity because it’s what I do and what I love.

–I will keep trying to be a better friend and colleague, regardless of the date on a calendar.

–I will keep working the 12 Steps, because it is essential to my well-being.

– And I will keep writing this blog, because it’s good for me and many of you have told me it’s good for you.

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Binge, Pray, Whine

I’ve never read the book “Eat, Pray, Love” and I haven’t seen the movie. I have nothing against it, it’s just that I have trouble with the “eat” part. Reading about that isn’t helpful to a recovering binge-eating addict.

Mood music:

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1cTJV3HK-Xs&fs=1&hl=en_US&rel=0]

My therapist actually brought up the book during one of our sessions. He wanted to know if I’d read it. I scowled at him and asked why the hell a guy like me would ever read a book like that. Then he started raving about what a powerful story of self-discovery it is.

I told him I don’t care about some woman traveling around the world eating, praying and loving. I have a habit of taunting my therapist.

By the way, he hated the movie adaptation.

I’m bringing all this up because a friend was on Facebook the other day expressing a similar view on the book — or at least her perception of the book.

She said she “refuses to read Eat Pray Schtup or watch the movie” and added:

“I just think there are too many adults who right tell-alls of their screwed up lives. It’s always a story like: “drink/drug/sex addict leaves abuser/partner/dysfunctional family to join an ashram/climb Everest/sail around the world and discovers another dysfunctional relationship/they are just as screwed up only better traveled/Jesus. Actually, I am OK with that last one but why can’t they just Grow Up And Deal withoout writing a pathologically narcissistic book about it?”

As someone who tells all about his formerly screwed-up life in this blog, I have a few thoughts on the matter.

There can be no doubt whatsoever that people like us have a strong narcissistic streak in us. You’ll never find a more self-absorbed person on this Earth than the one who struggles with mental illness and addiction. My personal examples are here, here and here.

But I think it’s OK to write about it as long as there’s some valuable insight for someone who needs it. At worst, it’s harmless.

I’ve seen good tell-alls and bad tell-alls. The bad ones tend to be books that focus on burning people other than the author. The “set-the-record-straight” crap.

People like us do get a ton of healing from the writing process. When we “tell all” we get all the slime out of our head. Most people do that in the form of a personal diary. I guess I did it as a public blog because I wanted other outcasts to see that they weren’t freaks and could go for a better life.

I do agree with my friend that the “going around the world to find myself” stuff is annoying as all hell. I recently saw a commercial on TV for a new series where this guy keeps having conversations with his dead brother and ultimately decides to take a boat ride around the world to find himself or become a man or whatever.

I glared at the screen and said to Erin, “Well that’s just stupid.”

I’ve had conversations with my dead brother plenty of times. But I didn’t need to steal a boat out if Quincy to purge the insanity in my head. Prozac worked for that. And my brother would have told me I was being an idiot, anyway. 

I have nothing against “Eat, Pray, Love.” How could I? I haven’t read the thing.

I also don’t object to tell-alls, as long as the author is honest.

As for some of the lines I’ve heard about from the book, including the one about God giving you Girl Scout cookies before slamming the door in your face, that’s pretty damn dumb, if the book really says that.

God would never give me Girl Scout cookies. He knows I’d just binge the box away.

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Done Eating by 3 p.m., Christmas Day

It was a good Christmas for me, for more than all the usual reasons.

Mood music:

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2eFiNud6fbU&fs=1&hl=en_US&rel=0]

There was the usual joy: Being around family, getting the chance to lie around much more than usual, watching the kids go Christmas crazy.

Mass was good, with a homily that pointed out that Jesus was as human as they come during his 33 years of living as a mere mortal. He got scared, angry, enjoyed friendship, passed out exhausted after a hard day’s work.

One of the joys of the day was that I didn’t make it about binge eating like I used to. I had a normal breakfast, lunch and dinner. I was actually done eating for the day by 3 p.m.

To some it would seem like I deprived myself. After all, one of the things we like to do at Christmas is stuff ourselves. For the average person that’s fine. Most of the year they eat in the normal fashion and can afford to indulge on holidays.

But if you’re a compulsive binge eater like I was, chances are you stuff yourself holiday-style every day. Holiday eating becomes just another day in the dysfunctional neighborhood.

As part of my recovery from this crippling addiction, the holiday eating has to be reigned in considerably. To indulge is to fall off the wagon into relapse. I came close to doing that on Christmas Eve, 2009. Not this time, though.

And while that might seem like deprivation, to me it’s a gift.

I don’t have to pollute myself and fall to my eating disorder to have a Merry Christmas. In fact, it was a Merry Christmas BECAUSE I didn’t eat.

If you’ve done what I’ve done in the past, you’ll understand why this is so important to me. Especially since my recovery has been on shaky ground for awhile. 

I’ve kept it together, but got sloppy. I’m about to make some significant changes in my program as a result.

But for now, I sit here by the glow of the Christmas tree listening to old-school Van Halen and drinking coffee as my kids play with their new toys.

I’m not a bloated mess with a head possessed by flour and sugar.

And I’m grateful.

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No Flour or Sugar for Life? How!?

Some new readers came across my posts about eliminating flour and sugar as part of my recovery from a binge-eating addiction. The idea of eliminating these things for life is scary for some people. And who can blame them? It certainly scared the hell out of me once upon a time.

Mood music:

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4g86KUHGlOg&fs=1&hl=en_US]

Only after I kicked it did I realize how evil a combo those ingredients were to me. I envy people who can handle the stuff. It’s just that I can’t.

But you know what? I’d much rather have the freedom, mental clarity and weight loss than flour and sugar now.

I want to share one of the comments, from “Lorie”, and see if I can address it at the end:

“Just found your website. Sorry, but it made me cry (joy and sorrow). Happy that I found someone who articulates my own feeling so well and sad that I’m so out of control. I’m a serious sugar binger. Just finished off the Christmas treats I made for our family to give to friends. I’ve gone sugar/flour-free 3 times in the past,. – 4 months, then 10 weeks, then 11 weeks. Following each period of abstinence, I tell myself I’ve got things under control now. I can just eat moderately like a normal person.

If I can go cold turkey, I should be able to handle moderation. That’s logical right? This last time I lost 50 lbs. Man! That felt SO good! I reached my lowest weight two months ago and then, still off flour and sugar, easily maintained it over the next month. Then I decided I was ready to add in a moderate amount of sugar. I’ve been on a binge ever since, up 13 lbs. now. Each day I see the scale go up and my heart sinks. What kind of a crazy person does this to themselves?

“Every day I start out saying I’m not going to eat sugar today. My anxiety builds to the point that I break and then the lies start. ‘I’ll just eat one piece.’ ‘I won’t eat the rest of the day.’ ‘One more day of sugar won’t matter, I’ll start tomorrow.’”

“I’ve been convinced that I have a physical addiction, like an alcoholic. But yesterday I had an epiphany. This is as much or more like OCD than alcoholism. There is some serious OCD in my family. Grandma was a level 5 hoarder, mom’s got OCD, brother’s got OCD. I’ve always said to myself, boy am I glad I don’t have OCD like them. Yesterday as my anxiety was building until it was released with copious amounts english toffee I made, I realized, “you idiot, this is classic OCD.” Anxiety/Compulsive Behavior/Anxiety diminishes.”

“I have a degree in psychology. How can I have gone for 35 years and not seen this? Now what? I still don’t know how to stop. Hence the tears of sorrow. I don’t know if I have the strength to give up the sugar and flour again because I realized if I’m going to conquer this, it means a lifetime of abstinence, right?”

“How do you do it?”

I can certainly feel your pain, Lorie. I’ve had all those same thoughts play through my head at one time or another. Obsessive-compulsive thoughts always fueled the desire to binge.

I can also understand how you feel about the idea of giving up something “for life.” 

But in the final analysis, this is about making a life change. Sometimes we have to quit things we love for the rest of our lives in order to attain the quality of life that eludes us.

A diabetic has to give up a lot of ingredients for life.

A smoker who quits always misses the feeling of drawing smoke into their lungs. But they like that they can breathe again.

These choices can be hell. It’s also the kind of choice you need a doctor’s help to make. A doctor will always know better than me if you SHOULD give up certain things.

This program isn’t for everyone. But it IS for me.

It’s the only thing that ever worked.

I hope that helps you to some extent, Lorie. Keep fighting the good fight and you’ll eventually find long-term victory.

That’s my experience, anyway.

God Bless you.