I’m not saying this happened to me I did this.
Picking up Campfire Marshmallows [by far the best of the easily accessible, inexpensive marshmallows].
At the Rite Aid a mile from my house.
On the way home from work.
I’m not saying that.
I’m just saying, that when the clerk at the local Rite Aid recognizes you because you’re buying marshmallows again, you might have a problem.
If you take those Campfire marshmallows home and eat them all, some toasted over the stove, others smooshed to a taffy life texture, along with a small bag of M&Ms Mega and some Movie Theater Popcorn, I think it’s safe to say you definitely have a problem and are out of control.
Which I feel comfortable saying because, as you may have guessed, I did this last night.
And when I type “this happened to me” instead of “I did this” . . . it gives you an idea of how fucked up things are. Pardon the expletive, but seriously . . . If you’ve been here before, you know I what I’ve been through with sugar. After a lifetime of feeling lousy and experiencing absurd highs and lows, and truly thinking I was more than a bit crazy - I found all of that went away when I stopped eating sugar.
Let me reiterate this - when I stopped eating sugar I discovered that all the negative stuff I believed about myself, was false.
I am not crazy.
I do not have out of control mood swings.
I am not basically unhappy.
I am not sickly.
This last is a bit of an exaggeration of what I thought of myself. I never thought of myself as sickly, but I tended toward colds, belly aches, awful periods, acid stomach, general tiredness.
How does one reconcile all this knowledge with the fact that one continues to go to Rite Aid and buy Campfire marshmallows? On the regular?
No, seriously, I’m asking you - how does one reconcile this? Because I can’t. It makes me feel like a fraud. I know sugar is poison. I ask my clients who deal with arthritis and other inflammatory conditions if they eat sugar, because I know how it aggravates arthritis - I don’t even know I have arthritis when I stay away from sugar.
Yet I don’t stay away from sugar.
I am a fraud.
I am also a sugar addict.
Last night I literally ate myself sick.
This morning I still feel sick. I’m working this afternoon, though I seriously contemplated calling out sick - it’s not easy to give a beautiful massage when you are suffering. But I need the work and if I drink a ton of water between now and then it will be fine.
As I sit here contemplating how to finish this up it occurs to me that feeling like a fraud is misplaced. The fact that I am ruled by sugar doesn’t negate the knowledge that I have. I’m not dictating anyones behavior, I’m just saying I know this to be true - sugar is poison.
Plus there’s the title of the blog, Diary of a Sugar Addict straight up tells you right off the bat that I am a slave to the small white crystals, along with most things that might as well be sugar.
Today I’m at the point in the cycle where I have eaten myself to such misery that I renew my commitment to throw out anything in my house that might vaguely resemble sugar. There isn’t much as I don’t keep it around, I make myself go out specifically to buy it in the hope that I won’t.
You see how that’s working out for me.
But every minute is the first minute of the rest of my life. And every first minute of the rest of my life holds the possibility that I’ll get it right this time.