I Scream, You Scream…

 

Day 10

Ice Cream L❤️VE

Our family has a serious commitment to ice cream. All of us. From Will down to our youngest granddaughter. I am not sure if that is a nature or nurture thing, but the family trait…habit…addiction…obsession…whatever you want to call it, is strong and unwavering. I do not know of a time, ever, when anyone has declined an invitation to go out for an ice cream, share a dish (or a carton!😳), or hang out and make home-made to enjoy. When Will and I went to Italy several years ago, we made it a priority to find THE best gelato (San Gimignano), and we faithfully track down the best ice cream shop where ever we travel.  We know the opening date of our favorite soft serve place in town for the summer and try to be there on the first day…and we are sad when they close (Aug. 29 this year) for the long winter.

So, one of Will’s quirks in his addiction, was to go to a massage parlor at lunch time, swing by the ice cream drive thru for a cone and get back to work. Aarrgghhh!  How could he?!?! Nothing is sacred! I was so angry at the thought that his stupid selfishness had ruined even ice cream for me. But, oh, the ice cream demons within are strong. It took a little time but…the trigger of soft serve has been overcome! Will told me a couple of weeks ago that he doesn’t go get a cone at all during the day. For him this is a big deal. Even in recovery, he would still go get a cone a couple of times a week. But now, he says, he loves ice cream and he loves me. What he really loves is getting ice cream with me. He says he has traded what he had (a lonely cone)for something better (sharing that time and treat with me) I like that a lot. I like that this is something Will has done for himself, but also for me. I like that ice cream is a happy thing from before, and continues to be a happy thing now. 🍦

Food, Glorious, Food…

Day 3 – Yummmmm!

I struggle with my weight. The battle began when I quit smoking over twenty years ago. I had always been a petite 5’4″ 115ish girl and just didn’t think about calories, or fat, or carbs etc. I just ate when I was hungry and ate what tasted good. A funny thing happened, however, when all of the sudden, I couldn’t have a smoke! I needed…something. That something turned out to be food. Then it got worse. I discovered that my taste buds, long suppressed by the numbing effects of nicotine, had regenerated. Food tasted REALLY, REALLY GOOD!! Lethal for the waistline. I gained, I lost, I eventually leveled out. Until D-day.

Weird how a body reacts to emotional devastation. I lost fifty pounds in about five weeks. I simply could not tolerate food. I had no appetite. I was in such a high state of trauma that I cannot honestly remember ever even opening the refrigerator or a kitchen cupboard. Worst diet plan ever. At least, the most painful.

Aaanyway…I have discovered that I was subconsciously depriving myself of happiness. Simply put, food makes me happy. In my trauma, I was punishing myself, as a lot of us betrayeds do, assuming wrongly that our addicts’ issues are somehow our fault. My weight has largely stabilized although I always seem to be wishing I could lose a few more pounds. I have now discovered that food can be comfort but that doesn’t mean I have to over-comfort myself. I have learned to truly enjoy food in smaller portions and have tempered my appetite. I love to cook and love to try new recipes. I really enjoy trying new cuisine when I travel and get stupidly excited when a new restaurant opens up. I very much enjoy hostessing big gatherings and planning and preparing the menu. It brings me such joy to see people I love congregate and enjoy each other’s company and really, really yummy eats. It is one of my favorite kinds of happy. Gotta go….dinner’s on…😉🍴