Its amazing how much of our parents are coded into ourselves, even if we see them little of the entire span of our lives. Ive noticed my mother's mannerisms coming out strongly in me lately- the way I gesture with my hands, clap them together when im making a point; my thought pattern of reasoning. But also, I find I am so very much my father's daughter. I hold my chin the same way, I cross my arms in the same circumstances and hold the same stance. I have the same bubbly excitement that I can hardly contain, and the thirst for adventure. And the same appetite. I have always known my dad was a sexual man, always with a girlfriend or two, always following women with his eyes, making comments. I sat silent in the passenger side of the truck, awkwardly silent and choosing naivety or laughing slightly, to ease my discomfort. But I think it was always a part of me. Which, now that I realize step 4, a searching and fearless moral inventory of myself, i have to come face to face with, the discomfort and pain that sex has played in my life. But besides sexual appetite, I also get a love of eating from him. Which i think stems from instant gratification. He wants that excitement, that thrill from life that adventure brings. But we cant have that every day, at our fingertips. Most of us anyway, in the dashing, romantic way we imagine it. So we eat, for its pleasure, for its numbing contentment.
We both ate a lot tonight, laughingly sharing embarrassment, but continuing to gorge. On fat and sugar and wine. I love him, in the unexplainable, exasperating way you love family members. But I also regret the things I have learned from him. Self-centeredness. Interrupting people, not giving them the time to finish their sentence, not giving them the chance to share their story. Not on purpose, but blindly ignorant of his lack of respect. His work ethic is tremendous as is his sense of groomed personal appearance, both of which I admire greatly. But his miserly and childishly greedy outlook make me sad. Probably most because I see them in myself. Though i feel part of them melting away. I don't want THINGS. I don't feel the need to plan and spend my time daydreaming about what i can HAVE. Now- i would like to sit and meditate and look at the sky, at the trees, feel the air, have my mind clear and free to take in my surroundings, hopefully beautiful.
I feel the need to write down what I ate, like it would be a purge from my body. But all i need to acknowledge is that I ate it, its over, its done, and now I can move on. My glass is half full, and this moment is this moment and tomorrow (well, today), is another day.
I would really like to get in shape for ski season. So though I am working through the steps to help me with a lifelong ability to be free of food obsession and delve into and understand and heal from the underlying causes of that symptom, I think having a short term goal with give me some oopmh. Though I have to be careful that it does not distract me from the bigger picture.
Grateful for OA. So far what works now: routine. connection (sharing). stimulation.
meetings, outreach calls, Partner in Recovery, reading, meditation (after-work-RRR), 3 meals a day plus 2 snacks (y/f; f).
I would like to include a 2 day a week sugar snack. This give me options and flexibility and choice.
I would like to include consistent step work in this list. Especially with the onset of step 4.
grateful for writing, for its power of healing. grateful for sleep, for my bodys ability to heal itself during rest. excited for tomorrow (today), the chance to buy olympic tickets...! grateful for some disposable income to actually have the ability to consider them. grateful for a job. for a meaningful job that fulfills me when i put in the effort and dedicate myself to its outcomes. grateful for peace.