I'm about to get vulnerable, fair warning. However, I know as I share out of my weakness and brokenness, it will connect with someone else's and offer them hope (which, I guess, has become my mantra). It is no secret that I'm a recovering addict and I thank God for sobriety and healing in certain areas of my life. But addicts are known to struggle with more than one addiction, or trade one for another. And I'm humbled to admit that's me.
My eating habits never really matured. I'm not a big fan of salads, always preferred regular sodas over diet, and helped myself to something sweet to eat after a meal. For the last few years I have been dealing with aspects of food addiction. I hesitate when I think of typing the details because it's embarrassing... I got into the habit of waiting until everyone was in bed at night, sneaking out and driving to a nearby fast food joint, and bringing home an entire meal to consume in front of the TV. This would happen at least three or four times a week.
Marty and I would have discussions around my diet and I would brush off her concerns or admit I needed to change, but nothing ever really stuck. I knew she was worried about me, but it still wasn't enough to make me do something about my issue.
One night I pulled up to the window at the Jack in the Box that is two blocks away from my house. The worker greeted me warmly and asked,"Are you coming from home?" "Yes," I said. "You're earlier than usual," she observed. And at that, I was humiliated. That was as bad as it could get. The drive-up window attendant knew me on sight and knew my late-night routine. As I drove away, I told myself I would never patronize that place again. And I haven't been back since. Maybe I wouldn't be as familiar at Taco Bell down the road...
To be continued...
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