Day 687
I eat too much, and I'm trying to figure out how this factors into or is related to my sex addiction. I'm a little overweight, but not bad. My sugar levels are okay. I think I eat healthier than most. So why do I think I continue to put too much food into my mouth? Is it as simple as I enjoy the culinary flavors?
When I leave the table, I'm usually uncomfortably full. I'm generally still feeling uncomfortably full the next morning. During the day I eat smartly, and by late afternoon I feel fit, the way I'd like to feel all the time. But then supper shows up in the routine of life (as it should), and I eat until my plate is clean, at least once.
I have been known (or more specifically, I have been unknown) to eat away my depression. Secret Whoppers here, a giant tenderloin there, a pint of Breyer's ice cream with a bag of nacho chips were all favorites of dark days long ago. I guess that means there is reason to be concerned, but I really don't think it's an issue, at least not to the destructive scale that alcohol and massage parlors have been in my life.
But still, I'm an educated and successful individual that would rather feel good than feel stuffed, and yet I repeat this pattern day after day.
I don't have any ah-ha moments here. I'm thinking out loud and wondering why knowing how something makes me feel miserable is not enough for me not to do the things that make me feel miserable. I took that misery to extremes during my sexual acting out, and now I'm learning to see those dangers on the horizon and use new tools to avoid calamity. But when it comes to food, not so much.
I'm pretty sure this will be on my next Step 6 exercise when I revisit my list of defects. Whether it is connected directly to my sexual defects or not (it's probably all connected, but don't tell me that), it's worth at least acknowledging that I know when to stop eating, and yet I don't.
Damn. That sounds too familiar.
–JR
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