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Thursday, April 1, 2021

BLE: A slice of Peace

Last night was Bright, and it wasn't until this morning that I realized there was left over pizza in the fridge. I am a little flabbergasted; I knew the family had brought in pizza for dinner and it never occurred tome to have some? Not once did my brain start planning the sneak attack? I didn't think about moving left overs into the garage fridge so I wouldn't be tempted. I didn't lie in bed waiting for the house to be dark and quiet so I could grab a piece. I didn't think about it at all. Not even a little bit. Not even when I stopped in the hallway around midnight and made the decision to just go back to bed. Nothing, not a single wisp of a thought.

It's a first. Pizza has been my all time go-to for over forty years. I think I was 21 when I started working for my In-Laws at Round Table, and when we weren't wired we were eating pizza. It has always been my comfort food, and I spent my life knowing I was over-indulging. Yet it never occurred to me that my behavior was that of an addict. And that coming off of a few years of drug use that made me intimately familiar with the concept of addiction. It took SPT to make the connection and tell me all about it in Bright Line Eating.

This morning I was listening to one of Oprah's Super Soul Sunday episodes, and while I can't remember the gentleman's name, I remember the message. When you find yourself adrift in a valley, look for the forest. And  you have to go through the forest alone, to make your way up the next mountain.  So, when you are complacent, accept the next challenge, because the mountain you get to climb on the other side brings the next wonderful thing to your life.

That's what this journey of food addiction feels like, a forest that I am fighting my way through. But on this journey I have support, and friends, in my MMG, and not wanting to let them down has been a source of stress for me. Especially this week after committing to stay Bright and not being able to follow through. And I think that is the point. While they are here for me, I have to be here for myself. While they are companions on this trek through the forest, I am the one who has to do the work. And that is what I was feeling last night as I was preparing for bed; the responsibility I need to hold for my self care. I am the only one who can do it, and I need to accept that and stop looking for anyone or anything to rescue me.

There is no rescue, there is only the work that will get me through, that will gain  me passage to what is next. I already know this, having confronted the whole, 'there is no knight in shining armour' syndrome that all girls and boys of my generation have had to face. But I don't think I really KNEW it. A part of me is so stubborn, and has just refused the responsibility. I can still feel that spark of resentment, that little voice campaigning for an easy life, the one I should have had. Like I was entitled or something.

This human experience is so strange. I admire those who have figured out there is more to it than just going through the physical motions, but it's not something I ever thought to attain for myself. It was beyond me somehow, or something I didn't need to do because I've already been here and done that. Such a strange concept, but such a strong feeling of certainty has always accompanied that thought. Like, someone else accomplishing enlightenment means I have too just by recognizing it in them. Again, so strange.

Bottom line, I know I am the one doing the work now, and that part of the work is figuring out why a 'commitment' changes anything about my intentions. And of course that is true for the rest of my MM Group. We may be on this journey together, but each of us has to do the work alone. Fight through the forest alone.

I realize this morning that there has been a small shift, and it's because of the inner-work I am doing, attempting to do, whatever. Because not thinking of pizza didn't just manifest out of the blue. Something had to have happened for that significant of a change to have occurred in my brain. Finally, a small slice of peace. Literally.

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