The Dark Passenger

I've been watching a lot of the show Dexter these days. For those who might not know the show, Dexter is a lovable blood spatter analyst with the Miami Police Department. Oh yeah...and he's a serial killer. His traumatic childhood awakened what he called "the dark passenger," his need to kill. By all intents and purposes, Dexter tries to be a normal person, but this drive for the kill also makes his life unmanageable at times.

I, too, have a dark passenger. I have an incurable disease that without the proper treatment will first make my life unmanageable and then will kill me. The hardest thing for me to remember is that I HAVE this disease, and that I'm not a bad person. This dark passenger speaks very loudly to me at times, telling me that I am a worthless piece of shit and that I do not deserve all the good things in life or even life itself.

I am currently trying to do more self-care. I'm really good at caring for others, but horrible at caring for myself. This is primarily because the disease tells me I'm not worth it. So for now, I'm acting as if I believed it. I have gone to the nutritionist, the dentist, an oral surgeon, and the eye doctor all in the last two weeks. And there is more to come.

Highs and Lows

When I was active in my disease (binging my brains out and eating myself to oblivion), my life was a series of highs and lows. Everything that happened to me was either the best thing that had EVER happened to me or was absolutely devastating. There was never the in between. I was either on top of the world or the lowest life form to ever slink across the surface of the planet. And if I am completely honest with myself, even when life was amazing and I was getting everything I wanted, I usually still felt like the later.

When I hit rock bottom with my compulsive eating, I (by all accounts) was at a peak of life. I graduated from grad school, was moving back to a place I loved, was marrying the love of my life, was starting a non-profit, etc. But I also ballooned to my highest weight. When life happened to me, I ate. For the good and the bad, I ate. I didn't know how to cope with life without eating. I did not know how to live life in the middle ground. It was all high or all low!

My life is different now. Or better that I should say, my reaction to life is different now. These last two weeks have been a crazy system of ups and downs. (Not the ones perceived by my addict's brain...but actual ups and downs.) And the most brilliant thing I have experienced has been a middle-of-the-road reaction to it all. I have felt the exhilaration and the devastation, but I have not stayed there. Once I was beyond the initial shock of all the events, my Higher Power gave me an evenness of mind and body. I did not want to eat or starve over it all. I just wanted to be of maximum usefulness to my HP, my family, and my fellows.

Recovery is like this. Amazing!