Crimes against Humanity

Forget ISIS, forget Assad, forget Putin for that matter. The dictators, despots, fundamentalists and killers that grace the front pages of our newspapers are a side-show, a distraction from the greatest scourge of our time; addiction. Recent statistics released by the journal Addiction in the 2014 Global statistics on addictive behaviours report illuminate the vast, worldwide scale of mankind’s subjugation by addictive substances and behaviours. It shows that five percent of the entire human race struggle with alcoholism (some 240 million people), and that a fifth of all human beings are addicted to tobacco. There are over a billion smokers on planet earth, each compelled by their addiction to inhale cancerous chemicals that will end their lives prematurely. In addition to this there are 180 million cannabis users. There are thought to be 150 million problem gamblers in the world and a far smaller number of people intravenously inject drugs (a mere 15 million). These are conservative estimates, and they do not show the massive collateral damage that addiction does to the families and loved ones of addicts, whose lives are wrecked and whose own behaviours are distorted beyond recognition in order to cope with addiction in their lives. The statistics do not show the suffering of entire societies in Central and South America, West Africa and South East Asia that have seen a bloody and fruitless war on drugs simply hand unaccountable power over to criminal elites. They do not show the millions of intelligent, industrious and productive people around the world who have been dragged through courts, prisons and recently in Indonesia, in front of firing squads as governments react in the only way they seem to know how to the challenge of addiction. The loss of potential to the human race of this disease is almost beyond the ability of anyone to calculate, but, like global warming, it seems to be an issue that the political classes of the world are constitutionally incapable of addressing. Our cautious, impotent and craven leaders, terrified of ill-informed howls of rage from newspaper columnists who feel qualified to hold forth on any and all moral panics, do nothing more than prohibit, punish and push away the problem. They do a very good job of mimicking the behaviours that are commonly found in homes where addiction rules the roost ‘don’t speak, don’t say, don’t challenge, don’t feel, don’t think, don’t admit’, in behaving in this way, the governments of the world aid addiction every single day. What, then, is to be done? The proponents of legalisation argue that controlling, taxing and licensing drug use is the only way to limit the harm it causes. Perhaps. There is another solution to the problem of addiction, but one which lies far beyond the skill sets of our current leaders. It requires nothing short of an existential revolution, a reformation of meaning to take place across the world. Addiction is the practice of self-annihilation; it is the consumption of a substance or the engagement in a behaviour in order to flee from one’s self. Surely, by posing the question as to why so many millions of human beings wish to escape from the only life they have or will ever know, we can work towards, not only a solution to addiction but a solution to the problem of ‘human-ness’. Life never creates a crisis without also presenting the seeds of opportunity and in addiction lies a potential springboard to the future, its victims are so numerous they present a critical mass and if, together, they can speak with one voice and tell the rest of the world their experience, the results might just be revolutionary.

I'm slowly getting back on track

Blog 24th May 2015 I’m slowly recovering after a three week long relapse which built to a crescendo last Tuesday. I still don’t know if that’s my food rock bottom, only time will tell. I’ve been experiencing every emotion under the sun over the past three weeks and eating furiously to keep them all at bay, but of course eating doesn’t help any more (not that it ever did really). I’ve been jealous “How come all those people at OA can do it and I can’t?” I’ve been angry “Life’s too short not to eat a biscuit” I’ve been pitiful “Why me? Why do I have all these addictions?” I’ve been childish, petulant and resistive “I can’t be bothered, I just don’t care, and it’s too hard” I’ve been lazy and self-loathsome “I’m not doing it, I hate myself anyway, I’m old and ugly anyway, I’m disgusting, just a big fat ugly pig.” I’ve been doubting “I’m never going to get it” I’ve been ashamed and guilty “I’ve hurt, lied and cheated so many people that I love, I’m never going to be able to resolve it.” I’ve been hopeless It’s been a dark, dank and depressing time and I have been out of control acting on my own will and turning my back on others. The self-righteous indignation is creeping back in and I remind myself of my Mother which just compounds my self-hatred even more. I’m slowly picking myself up and with help putting myself back together. ONE DAY AT A TIME I’m going to ease back into it, I’ve gone from binge to three meals a day again and the next step will be re-engaging with OA. This time when I re-engage I need to do it whole heartedly and that means listening and being willing to try another way, instead of resisting. The only way to do this is to do it. I’m praying for willingness, for a sign, for a way in. I know I need a sponsor and I also know that I am so much better when I fully engage with the programme instead of paddling in the shallow end. Even as I type this I’m frightened as it then means I have to put pressure on myself and put some action into my recovery. I can’t do this by myself. I need to leave my pride at the door, stop looking and comparing, ignoring and despising others, as this does me no good. Now I just need to take that leap of faith, what have I got to lose? Julie

I'm going to do something about this procrastination next Monday!

Blog 8th May 2015 My eating disorder recovery has slowed to a very slow crawl. I am barely doing anything at all. I am coasting. My eating is not out of control but it’s not in control either. Every day I overeat in regards to my evening meal and at least twice last week I have eaten trigger foods. The awful thing is I don’t even care that much, talk about a slump in motivation. I didn’t go to OA this week, I could have gone if I really set my mind to it but instead I choose to lie on the sofa watching the box set of Game of Thrones (new addiction) and bemoaning a very bloated abdomen as my IBS was playing up. I was well and truly sitting squarely on the pity pot. The next day to cap it all I went to the dentist and as they say “You don’t get away with anything” All the years of regurgitating and vomiting in response to the gastric band have really taken their toll on my teeth. They are going to look like the cemetery in Dodge City soon. I can’t have a crown or a bridge on my front tooth as there is not enough bone left in my jaw so my only option (bar dentures) is an implant. This comes with the princely cost of two thousand pounds. I nearly choked on the mouthwash when young handsome, perfect-teeth dentist gleefully explained this. “I’m going to refer you to an implantologist!” he said I thought he was joking and laughed. It was no laughing matter. Coupled with that bombshell I needed a root-canal filling and a crown on my back tooth. I’m far too vain and young (cough) for dentures so I had better start saving up. That or look like one of the Clampets. If the situation continues I won’t even have to worry about an eating plan, it will be soup for life! I also visited my Aunty this week, she’s my Fathers last remaining relative and she has breast cancer. She went for a lumpectomy last week and will need radiotherapy. It’s a lot to cope with at any age let alone at 77. What I was struck by was how positive she was and how she managed to find humour and humility in what must be a scary and over-powering situation. It was inspiring. I learnt that your urine goes bright blue following a lumpectomy and that my Auntie has got an incredibly high pain threshold and has only taken 2 Paracetamols since coming out of hospital. When I think of all the drugs I took to block out emotional pain, it’s an odd comparison. I love my Aunty very much - she is witty and sparky, full of fun and can be a little bitchy at times (which to me adds to her appeal) as I find it funny and shocking at the same time. My Aunty adored my Father and misses him; I enjoy talking about him with her as she recounts stories of when they were children and the funny things he used to do. I received such a beautiful text from her when I got home, comparing me to my Father which made me feel all warm inside. Returning to the eating disorder: could someone please kick me up the arse? I know I have to get back on track, I know I have to be willing and I know I have to take action to get motivated. I cannot sit here waiting to be thin, it is not going to happen by wishing or by eating what I am eating at the moment. I will eventually take another leap of faith but the question is when? Monday perhaps? (Try doing it TODAY) W X Julie

Detached Indifference!

Blog 24th to the 26th April 2015 I learnt a lesson this week. The lesson was: do not send emails when in an emotional state. Some battles are just not worth fighting or indeed even worth entering into the arena. I had to ask myself “Where in the general scheme of life’s events does this one come?” If only I had asked this before demonically pushing the send button then announcing triumphantly “That‘ll teach him” to the bemused staff team. Of course it didn’t teach him anything and he retaliated also trying to be big and clever. This could easily have developed into email tennis wars but fortunately I was called into a meeting, burning with self-righteous indignation, championing my inner child. It was only on refection that I suddenly thought “0h dear!” I went to my boss and explained what I had done “I sent an email when I was in an emotional state of mind”. She face- palmed, “Oh no, who to?” I knew it was wrong, I knew it was childish, non-professional and ultimately stupid. It didn’t even make me feel better. In fact I just felt a bit daft. The conclusion of this was that I had to go and see my boss’s boss (the big boss) I held my hands up and apologised before she even opened her mouth. Honesty is a simple tool. My task then was refection and resolution. I may have to work with the receiver of the email again and I have to be professional. My other rather big and strangely cathartic mistake was to copy-in the Director of the company. Another rather impulsive error on my part! I was instructed, rightly so, to apologise. All of this is a learning curve. It’ll turn into a positive experience in the long run. Prior to recovery I could never have looked at this incident in such a way. I would have fumed for days, evilly plotting revenge and figuratively stroking a white cat in a menacing fashion. The email receiver would have been sworn at and ridiculed and blame, oh so much blame, would have been apportioned. Thank God today it doesn’t have to be like that. I cannot carry resentments: they eat away at my very soul. I have to find the middle ground and remain calm. Wyn calls it “detached indifference”. I am powerless over people, places and things and one snotty-arsed email is not going to change anything, win an argument or score points. I can’t change other people but I can change the way I react to other people - be that face to face, over the telephone or via sarcastic emails. In the words of Disney’s Frozen “LET IT GO” Julie

The Miracle Will Happen One Day

Blog 13th to the 24th April 2015 It’s been almost two weeks since I last blogged. That sounds a little like it’s been two weeks since my last confession. Sometimes I feel I write my blog like a confession. A confession to myself that these things have happened and by typing them out it confirms the truth and makes it more real. Out of my head and on to the paper. My last blog was very desperate and dark; I was struggling big time and wanted to escape in food. It all seemed inevitable and helpless. I knew what to do, I had the tools of recovery, what I lacked was the willingness. Then something important happened in the form of an OA meeting. We read a story from lifeline which helped considerably. It was about a woman who was bulimic and was vomiting up to twenty times a day. I related to it, in the year before doing anything about my food addiction I had been in the same situation, my gastric band had been tightened to within an inch of its life on my orders and I was regurgitating up to ten times a day, sometimes more sometimes less. It was horrendous; at each meal I was anxious, I would sit there consciously aware that I would have to leave the table and throw up but desperately wanting to feed myself and unable to stop. I would leave the table throw up then return to the table to try and get more food down, invariably being disappointed and frustrated when I couldn’t and I would need to run to the toilet to throw up again. Eating out was a misery, I would insist on eating out then spend the whole experience running back and forth to the toilet. Owen would then get angry (understandably so) which would make me more nervous and it would happen more. I felt guilty as he had paid for the damn band which I perceived meant that he didn’t love me the way I was and wanted me thin. This was despite the fact that I had asked for the money for the operation. Owen didn’t understand my eating disorder, how could he? If I couldn’t get it or understand it what hope did he have? All he saw was that he had paid for an operation out of his grandmother’s inheritance and I was not even trying to stick to the recommended diet that the consultant and dietician had advised. I couldn’t stick to it because I was a compulsive overeater and food addict, but neither of us knew that back then. Owen would then look at me with disgust and anger and I picked up on this and ate more to comfort and reassure myself. It was hell, my physical health was suffering, and my teeth were (and still are) in a shocking state. The only foods I could keep down were chocolate, sweets cakes, biscuits; these trigger foods would slip down past the band with gay abandon. I was getting no nutritional value from foods and my weight remained the same. Looking back it was horrifically unhealthy and madness. When I ate with my mother my trips to the toilet were even more frequent as my fear of being criticised for eating too much became too stressful and I often couldn’t keep anything down. As we read that story in OA I was taken back and instead of beating myself up I listened and actually patted myself on the back. I had come a long way. OK I was not perfect a long way from it but I was making slow but steady progress. I was losing weight albeit slowly. I was eating mainly healthily, I was eating regularly, I had apart from on a few occasions abstained from eating my trigger foods. I did still over eat but it wasn’t through triggers. I had for the most part eaten in the right places. In fact I had much to be grateful for. I had coped. This was my primary addiction and it was not going to vanish in a few weeks. My preoccupation could still be there but it was manageable and it did pass. This is turning a negative around and making in into a positive. I could have wallowed in misery and pity but that would have taken me to the end of the road and a ‘sod it’ moment which would have taken me back into the food. I don’t want to go back into the food. I do not want that emotional attachment with food any more. It has taken too much of my life and now I need to learn to manage it and come alongside it. It can be my ally, it can show me where I don’t want to be, it can alert me to the fact that I am not spiritually or mentally healthy and that I need to take action - change or step up my recovery. Food can be my friend and motivator not my enemy. I may have been taking it a little too seriously, we do not live in a famine-torn country, I will not starve to death, and it is not a life or death situation if I do not get to eat a box of Krispy Crème donuts. I need balance and perspective. I also need to stop comparing or getting jealous of others in OA who get it. The important thing is to keep attending these recovery-oriented meetings. They are on their path I am on mine, we are different. I am different and unique; my experience is going to be very different to that of others. I am where I am supposed to be at the moment. I need to take it easy and have faith that the miracle will happen one day. Julie

A sense of hopelessness as nothing seems to be working.

Blog 12th of April 2015 I’m just not feeling it or getting it at the moment. It’s like I’m stuck, restless, irritable, I can’t put my finger on it, and a piece of the jigsaw is missing. I am not willing, there is a big wall in front of me and I’m not ready to surrender to it. I’m wishing all sorts of nonsense, angry that I can’t eat what I want to eat, sabotaging by doing things that I know are off plan. I deliberately ate a Chinese takeaway in front of the TV last night using the very pathetic and lame excuses (even for me) that Ninja Warrior was on! I find myself day dreaming about being able to eat what I want when I want and never gaining a pound. I am so obsessed by food. I just want to stuff my face and I’m getting madder and madder about it. My rational side is patiently explaining to me that I feel one hundred percent worse and the addict side is fighting back. I’ve even started buying bags of chocolate for other people. What the hell is that all about? I bought my mother enough chocolate to stun a small oxen for her birthday and my friend, whose just had a baby, half of Thornton’s. As I drove to see her the jury was still out on whether I would actually go through with giving her the box of Thornton’s Premium. My conscience batted with my addiction. In the end I thrust the box at her like a demented person, then regretted it all the way home. I took group yesterday then went to town to look for some sandals. I just wanted to feed myself. I managed to pass the new cookie dough ice cream stand in the New St David’s 2, but only just; I didn’t quite make it past the Pretzel stall and quickly bought and ate standing up a hot dog covered in cheese pastry pretzel. I chowed on it like a cave woman, devouring it, loving it, spurring myself on for more. What the hell is wrong with me? What am I running away from? I look at all the others in OA, the ones who have got it and I think how? I don’t understand it. I don’t take it seriously. I know alcohol drugs and smoking will kill me most probably after one binge if I went back to them. I’m healthily scared of them. I am not scared of food, I love it, I am obsessed by it, I crave it, I want it. I do not see it as a killer. I know it is but it would take years to eat myself to death. And when you talk in groups about relapse with a flapjack people, myself included, find it hilarious. I can’t seem to see the harm apart from when I look in the mirror and hate what I see I want to be willing, I want to take action. I’m stuck at this weight and I can’t seem to find that willingness to take it up a notch. There is quite a lot of change going on around me at the moment and change can bring fear. The Living Room is changing and that has scared me as a lot of the old gang are no longer attending and I miss them. Work is changing and the politics are as troubling as ever. Joe and Annie’s recoveries worry me, and Owen’s been out of sorts. I think another fear I have is the fear of becoming ill again and people losing patience with me as I am finding this recovery from eating disorder so difficult. I managed to surrender to drugs, smoking and alcohol. I know where they take me. I can’t go back. With eating I’m screaming, kicking, and fighting it all the way. I am not making this easy, I don’t know how to. I can’t seem to apply the tools, find the faith to help me. It’s hard to impose the positives at present. I am praying, I am asking my higher power but I seem to be fighting myself. Answers on a post card please? To compulsive over- eater, stuck and raring to binge. Julie

An addict on her own is in very bad company!

Blog 29th March 2015 It’s happened again, eating out of control. It all started on Wednesday when I was booked to go away to attend a course on dialectic behavioural therapy with my work. I was so pleased I’d been given that opportunity as I had wanted to know more about this therapy as it’s the recommended treatment for patients with personality disorder (the field I have worked in for many years) I was also interested for my own personal recovery as this treatment has proved successful in an adapted form in the treatment of addictions and risk taking behaviours. I was all set, Owen dropped me off at the station, I went straight in to Marks and Spenser’s and bought some food for the journey as I would be unable to have an evening meal due to travelling to Chester on the train. I bought some sandwiches and a bag of baked pizza chips, cheese and red onion flavour (large packet) I then justified buying a flapjack as it was seeded and in my addict mind healthy! This was the first step in dropping my guard. I did well when I got to Chester, even managing to ignore the biscuits in my room that adorned the complementary tea and coffee tray. The following day was quite torturous, temptation was all around, for breakfast I avoided the cooked buffet session and went for an omelette instead with cheese, onion and mushrooms freshly cooked in front of me (this was off plan, I am supposed to have cereal and toast) Again justification, I’m away, I deserve it, its healthy full of protein, and the killer blow, its free I need to get my money’s worth. I finished with toast and butter. I felt fine, smug almost, I convinced myself I had done very well. The actual conference was a food heaven haven, a thing of joy for an overeater. Yet the first day I resisted all trigger foods. There were even sweets on all the tables, Swizzles children’s sweets in little bowls, drum stick lollies and Palma violets along with other lovelies and they were in the centre of each and every table, no escape. Break times were no different, home-made biscuits, cakes of every descriptions endless varieties. I avoided them feeling strong. My colleague is aware of my problems and was sympathetic, encouraging even. Lunch was a veritable banquet four choices of main, plus bread rolls and butter, salad and a groaning desert table. I did well, I commended myself, shepherd’s pie, and vegetables and a bread roll (small portion) then fresh fruit salad (this was easy) Then in the evening I was planning to go to an AA meeting but when looking on the web site I found it had closed down. My colleague was going to accompany me as it was an open meeting and she was interested, she’s a clinical psychologist and was keen to find out about 12 step programme. So instead we decided to go for something to eat. I had passed a Thai restaurant earlier in the day when I went for a walk so we headed there. It was a lovely night, I slightly over ate but not to extremes. Sadly on my walk earlier I had bought another flapjack from the shop opposite and as we walked back I obsessed about it. I returned to my room shut the door and dived in. Sweet and satisfying just ramming it in, knowing that it wasn’t the right thing to do but simply not caring. On packing in the morning I stuffed the two packets of ginger biscuits from the tea tray (which I’m not even that keen on) in to my handbag. At breakfast it was like my mind-set had changed, I wolfed a cooked breakfast then a croissant, I was in freefall. I knew what I was doing but couldn’t stop myself, justifications I ate two biscuits as they were gluten free, then at lunch I thought that gluten free apple crumble would be perfectly acceptable with cream, then followed in the afternoon by not one not two but four shortbread biscuits an grabbed a handful of drum sticks to eat on the train home. I was determined then, I went to the station shop to buy another flapjack to have with a coffee, then stopped off in Crewe to buy sandwiches a grab bag of walker’s crisps and a packet of fruit tellers. This was alongside the ginger biscuits in my handbag. On the train Owen rang, “Have you eaten?” “Not much, I lied, just some sandwiches” “Shall we get a take away?” I didn’t need to be asked twice, he picked me up and we went to get 2 large Dominos pizzas, where on getting home I devoured 4 pieces! I woke up the following day, resigned but all right, today would be different. It was, until after I left the Living rooms when I discovered the half eaten packet of fruit tellers in my pocket after stuffing them in without tasting them I then drove to Sainsbury’s and bought a bag of walker’s Brazil nut toffees. I just rammed them in my mouth in the car one after the other desperately. I needed to do it. On getting home I confessed. I was in big trouble, we went to Chapter to eat and to watch a film, I made an unhealthy choice hot dog and fries and ate far too quickly again feeding something. I then went to the toilet and brought it up. After the film I was obsessing, I needed something sweet I went to the cupboard and ate cake decorations, again I knew I was doing it, I needed that sweetness that comfort that release from something. Today, I needed to tell you this. Today I want to be honest with you, today I don’t want to lie and hide, and today I want to get better. Going away from home may well be a trigger, when I left my parents’ home at 18 to come to Cardiff to do my nurse training. I put on four stone in a year. I was away from the restrictions the critical eye and voice and felt free. I’m not free today as I feel chained to this disease at the moment. I just can’t seem to get it. I was even thinking of radical acceptance to the fact that I am fat! How mad is that?