I firmly believe that in each person's life we find ourselves acutely aware that we are standing face to face to a turning point - a realization that comes to us sometimes out of the blue, sometimes nurtured along until fruition, sometimes wholly unwelcome, sometimes with the fanfare akin to a 21 gun salute, sometimes as quiet and unassuming as the gentle breeze that floats across skin on a spring day and sometimes as longed-for as a first kiss... a sure, deep down knowing that change is not only demanding to be made, but it is in some way, a harbinger of a new chapter in the life you are living.
So, yeah. I had one of those moments today. It occurred to me in the garage at home, as I was getting out of my battered Sunfire, mumbling about the bloody infernal Canadian winter and the resulting snow and ice and plugging in of cards as I hauled my stuff in the house while corralling two jovial pugs out of the way, that really, I, or at least that part of me that I call the true self, the self that knows what is good and right and real, no longer have the desire to feed my body crap food any longer. I realized all the Tim Horton mochas and iced cappuccinos, all the KFC chicken (which my eating tonight no doubt pushed me to this realization), all the associations I have made with food=reward=comfort=support=love=worthiness=suppressing emotions, all the just -one- more's of Cokes, chocolates, M &M's, etc., are not really what I wanted, and it's like something finally clicked mentally and the lights are on.
Now, I am not ready to start shouting "I am healed" and go naively off spouting all sorts of ecstatic hullaballoo, because I know that it will be something I will have to remind myself of again and again. Food, unlike some other addictions, requires the addict to constantly be on guard because let's face it, you can't go cold turkey off food. You have to be faced with it several times a day.
I can't really explain it any more than this- right now I realize the crap I feed myself isn't satisfying any part of me. I don't enjoy it, it sabotages my kick-ass efforts at the gym, and it screws with my mind/emotions/feelings/reason. I am nearly 44 years old, and a bag of M and M's isn't going to make me feel better about myself the way consciously choosing to fuel my body wisely will. Coke and candy will not take away the residual pain of life's disappointments and grief, they will not increase my self-esteem, nor make me feel more comfortable about my appearance. In all honestly, they may taste good for a few minutes, but after the initial glow comes the crash.
Not sure what this turning point will need to play out in my life, but that's enough for now.