Hi, my name is the Jogging Clydesdale...

... and I am a carb addict.  It's been 20 mins since my last bowl of cereal.

It hit me hard this morning.  No sooner had I opened my eyes when I suddenly realized a big missing piece of self-information.  I really am addicted to carbs.  We've all read the many articles about how carbs release pleasure hormones and bring a sense of euphoria.  I've always understood it in an academic way, I suppose.  But at some level I've never accepted it as a self-truth.  If I knew these facts, then surely my knowledge overcomes the physical dependence on the carbs.  Right?

I had a bad day yesterday.  Popcorn, bread, cereal, white rice and so on. I knew I was blowing it. I knew I wasn't eating as I "should".  I knew I was going far, far off plan. And, at the same time I was doing what I knew I did not want to do, I felt weak, ashamed, even unworthy.  It was like I was in a trance; that my legs moved toward the fridge on their own, my arms reaching for a bowl, my hands buttering the bread.  I honestly, terrifyingly, felt disconnected from my body.  No amount of will power could have stopped me.

And I hated myself with each bite.

This morning, I woke up to a simple thought. "Why do you think you're so special?  That the rules don't apply to you?"  Now, at first glance, those words don't sound all that encouraging.  But those words floated through my mind not as an admonition, but an insight.  I am a physical body that responds to the same hormone  chemistry as anyone else.  Moreso, I have 40 years practice at ignoring the truth of those hormones.  I have spent 40 years intertwining my emotions with those addictive, dependent responses to the point where I cannot separate them...not without spending a lot of mental energy.

This morning, as I woke up and those words floated through my head, I had an image of eating those first few pretzels.  And I saw the chain reaction of the entire day unfold.  And I saw the physical dependency.  I saw the trance as a "high". And the shame as a "crash".

I don't know what it is to be an alcoholic.  I can't imagine it.  But I am beginning to wonder (understand?) that that little snack of whatever is no different than an alcoholic's "one drink won't hurt".

Today has been no different.  Not a damn bit.  Today at church, cookies were offered between Sunday school and the service.  Coffee and home made cookies.  One cookie won't hurt.  Six will. Plus two thick cuts of bread once I was home.  Then 2 bowl of cereal.  And the shame. It's all there.  It's played out exactly as it did yesterday.

I cannot have that first cookie.  That first finger full of pretzels.  That first handful of popcorn.  I've even started on the wrong path on a single M (as in M&Ms). I simply cannot.

And I must, must, must forgive myself when I do.  Because will power, knowledge, understanding, discipline can take me a very long way on this journey.  But I cannot constantly go against my body, and its complex and wondrous systems.

For the first time in perhaps ever, I am beginning to understand that I'm dealing with more than my psyche--my LHG if you will.  I am up against the very chemistry that keeps me alive.