I was ten and at the kitchen table pouring sugar over a bowl of cocoa pebbles. A tablespoon full of white powdery crystals layed briefly over crispy baked chocolate, then sank down into milk and settled on the bottom of the bowl. Mom sat to my right smoking a ciggarette and watched a morning show.
It has been 7 days since I have had an espresso
or a candy bar.
I have had spinach raspberry smoothies
walnut meat tacos.
I feel really good, not crazy manic high, nor do I crash. Every minute meanders into the next. My hands do not shake. and my mood stays the same. But, when life becomes dificult I reach. Alcohol is not my problem, it is reaching for anything that will change my mood quickly. Life gets hard and I shake for a poptart, literally. My breathing gets slow as I chew, and as I swallow I remember why it's okay to be alive. I can live for poptarts. Poptarts will get me though the day.
But there is a drop, later, further below where I started and I cry and yell at harmless questions and once again I reach into the air for something.
to save me.
and so it goes.
What worked then does not work now
and I want better than that. So it's not just hey sue have coffee with me, have a piece of cake. It is the same as lining up the shots. One is too many and a thousand is never enough. My reach is never satisfied.You will be there for the coffee but you won't be in my body later when I feel horrible. Telling me to have some in moderation is like telling me to just moderate the air I breathe. When you give me what I reach for I will suck it in until there is no more. Then I will pass out. I'm a crackhead. It's what I do.
An alcoholic always knows where the booze is at a party.
A sugar addict always knows where the cookies are.