From An Addict's Perspective

As the alcohol referendum nears - which has the potential to put alcohol on every corner and in every crack & crevice of Asheboro - I have had cause to ponder the subject of addiction.

The whole foundation of beating any addiction is abstinence . . . totally avoiding the substance/substances (alcohol/drugs) - or the behavior (sex/pornography/gambling/shopping) - to which one is addicted.

Alcohol is one of the harder addictions to avoid and/or beat because it is so much an accepted fixture of society. It is essentially a legal drug - one that can be far more damaging that any "controlled substance" I might ever prescribe as a physician. Yet in most communities in America (where it's sale is supposedly "controlled"), anyone of legal age can walk into a restaurant, supermarket or ABC store and buy whatever they want whenever they want (unless a community/state is neanderthalic enough to honor those pesky "blue laws").

When it comes to alcohol, American law enforcement essentially suffers from bipolar disorder. Drinking-till-you're-stupid is considered "cool" on college campuses and at country clubs. Drunk driving has killed millions of people in this country, but drunk drivers are rarely prosecuted as the first-degree murderers they are.

Moreover, the medical profession, over the last decade or so, has turned every little thing into a "disease" . . . and people often use their "diagnosis" as an excuse to fail rather than a reason to overcome/persevere/succeed.

I realize that that last paragraph sounds a tad harsh and perhaps judgmental (especially given my own diagnosis of ADD - for which I do not take medication). But you see, the perspective comes from that of my own addiction . . . one I have struggled with my entire life. In my opinion, it is the toughest addiction of all to overcome.

I am addicted to food.

It's been a love-affair from pretty much from year one. My first Pediatrician told my Mother that I was a "big girl" (above the 95th percentiles for everything), and always would be. And I more than fulfilled the prophecy. I remember scarfing down extras from the lunch & snack trays of friends at school . . . and for years, the best part of my day was right after school . . . when, as a "latch-key" kid delivered home by the bus, I could sneak food (either from the pantry, or a quick bike ride to Cox Grocery on the end of Inwood Road before Mama got home) . . . or, as I got older, stop at the Pantry every day on the walk from Asheboro Junior High to Loflin School (where Mama worked).

Working at McDonald's during summer vacation provided an endless supply of Fish Filets and Double-Cheeseburgers.

I know all about being big and awkward and way-beyond-uncomfortable in my own skin/clothing . . . about being the last person picked for teams in PE (unless it was basketball - where I always played center because I was taller than everyone else) . . . about never wearing shorts . . . about hiding my bathing suit behind voluminous towels or wraps . . . about not going to the prom.

It makes the current epidemic of childhood obesity all the more heartbreaking for me. Been there. Done that. Have the extra-large tee-shirts.

The thing about about a food addiction is that you cannot avoid food. You've got to have it to live. That is not true of any other addiction.

Therefore every trip to the grocery store is like ballet-dancing on the edge of a black hole. Unlike Oprah most of us don't have personal trainers, chefs and shoppers. Fat or thin, every day is a battle.

And one's relationship with food can become pretty warped. Mine did. I suffered from bulimia on and off for years (it started in college) . . . and for a brief time, during the later part of my Pediatric residency, I was actually anorexic. I avoided food all together. Trouble is, you don't live very long doing that.

Long story short, some people who cared very much intervened and gave me some choices. I got therapy. Did a year of Prozac (I like to call it Vitamin P). I got better.

I know it sounds awful, but I look back on those dark days almost fondly now (of course, I've had much darker days since then). Because I looked absolutely fabulous at a size 8. A part of me longs to get there again.

I've lost and gained and lost hundreds of pounds over the years. Working on the road, I do a lot of eating out, and it's not a lifestyle conducive to fitness regimens. Last year, after all of the surgeries of 2006, I was up to 275 pounds (heavier than I have ever been). I went to Memphis and lost 75 - by going on a mostly raw diet (I had almonds coming out my ears), and exercising (alternating between a rower and elliptical machine) every day. I cut out all caffiene and drank gallons of water & tea. Diet drinks were out (since I consider Nutrasweet a nasty poison).

The weight melted off - I lost thirty pounds in the first month by just cutting out soft-drinks.

Of course last summer's nasty bout of kidney stones "helped" with the weight loss. I didn't feel like eating for the two months it took them to pass.

Back at home for the holidays, the weight started to creep back up. And in January, I took on a fairly stressful assignment (which ended in May - I have since moved on). Over the last eight months, I've gained 25 pounds back. But this time I have an excuse - an actual disease. I've suffered from "borderline"/low-grade hypothyroidism for a number of years. But this month I was diagnosed with Hashimoto's Thyroiditis. There ain't no "borderline" to it anymore. We're playing around with the meds. I should be able to shake off the butt-dragging tiredness within a few weeks, and get back on track with the diet and exercise. I looked good at 2oo pounds and a size 16 (I'm 5-10 and carry it well). But I'll look better at 150.

And I will do it without stapling or banding, thank you very much (not that there's anything wrong with that, as Jerry Seinfeld would say).

The physician will heal herself. It's a choice - or rather a lifetime of daily choices - an addict has to make.

For the rest of my life, I will still have to go to the grocery store (which I cannot avoid) and walk by aisle where the Ben & Jerry's "Gobfather" lurks without loading the cart. Some days that is INCREDIBLY HARD TO DO.

That's what addiction means.

I guess my point is this: In some of the LTE's to the Courier - and commentary on the blogs - the "pro-alcohol" crowd has spit out the, "If you don't want alcohol, then don't drink" argument.

For people who suffer from alcohol addiction - or dance on the edge of it, that is much easier said than done.

And for fifty years, the good citizens of Asheboro have kept alcohol at arm's length - in large part, because the populace recognized that we are our brother's keeper. They did not want to make it easier for those with a problem to make a wrong turn/choice and load the cart.

The bull-in-the-china shop approach that Schmidly and his who's have taken with this alcohol referendum (an approach which will be the subject of another post), gives no thought whatsoever to the daily struggle that those with alcohol addiction face. "The whos" care more about money and their own convenience (because let's face it, nobody NEEDS alcohol) than they do about those who might get sucked into that black hole of addiction.

It's a recurring theme with some of these people. They do not care who they hurt.

It's insensitive.

It's selfish.

And it doesn't take 20/20 vision to know that it's going to be way bad for somebody's future.

Afternoon Update: Local resident, Howard Beck wrote about his own battle with alcohol in an LTE today - and where he might be today if alcohol had been on that local grocery shelf.

The "who's" don't care about that argument. They're upset over some signs.