Acceptable Addict

I'm an addict.
As much as i run from that truth and cover it in smiles and socially acceptable behavior, deep down I am an addict. Though I know that my actions and struggles don't define my worth or my identity I wrestle with the fact that my drug of choice is admirable or even envied. We live in a society that is overwhelmed with obesity. We live in a world that describes the perfect body and perfect size as a standard that is unattainable. So when I found that pain in the world was too great and control was only a figment of my imagination I found that I could set my mind and my heart on becoming beautiful. I found that drinking in excess and using drugs was socially unacceptable. I found that those who were slaves to alcohol were mean and loud and inappropriate. I couldn't be perfect and be drunk. Drugs were expensive and unpredictable. There was nothing attractive to me about taking something that made me absent from my own body and susceptible to the desires of those i was with. Who doesn't want to be thin and beautiful. Everyone is always trying to lose a little bit of weight and work out to be more toned and in shape. No carbs, only carbs, no sugar, no wheat, no fat, low fat, all fruit, no fruit....it is always just merry-go-round, changing from week to week...only to cycle back around years later.
I found myself sad tonight as I sat in Church... perfectly raising my hands in worship, taking diligent notes, nodding my head at all the right times...and that being genuine. My desire I believe is genuine. My heart full longing to be seeking after God. My deepest desire in life to know Christ and emulate his love to a hurting world. But in the midst of pain...my mom's surgery behind us and everyone else taking a deep breath of relief...i spiral in the fear and confusion. I am so good at being strong until the time comes when everyone else is able to sigh in thankfulness...and all the terror and fear and insanity that I felt finally able to surface...shoved down so deep that it wouldn't even be known at all...until the pressure breaks through and the mess is everywhere to be seen.
So i could drink. I could take prescription or recreational drugs. I could sleep around or cut my wrists...but the world would look down on me. They would see me as lazy or selfish. There would be talk of me being out of control and untrustworthy...wasting money. It would bring embarrassment to my mom and her job as a children's pastor. My destruction would only cause more pain and my family isn't looking for more of that. So I diligently go to the gym. I use the same machine on the same settings for the same amount of time. Every night I pack the same foods for the next day...knowing the things I will eat and knowing the things I will repack every day this week...something to fill up space. But I can't help but feel like I am living a lie. I can't help but feel like an addict when I get so worried about not going to the gym two days in a row that I sneak away during family dinner to get in a short workout.

I just want to be free. There are days when I am jealous of the alcoholic or the drug addict...because they wear their pain for the world to see. They don't care about keeping a pretense...they just hurt and let the world watch them destruct. I secretly sweat out every fear and every devastation. I starve away each loss. I bleed though sweat and it manifests in flashbacks. My whole past secretly lurking under my skin desperate to find its way out...in a loud and angry and uncontrolled way. It screams at night threatening to lash out and consume those around me...and consume any good that is left in me. So I embrace that 4th elliptical from the left and put it on a level 4. At work I park in the 4th parking spot from the right and always have 4 new emails in my inbox. I eat my same foods at the same times and I wonder why the tears won't come. But don't you see that they understand wanting to work out...they are envious I make it a priority. They understand not eating anything unhealthy...and they are jealous that my clothes are a smaller size than their own. Self control. When all I see when I look in the mirror...when I take a deep breath as I leave the gym...as I throw away my plate from dinner...
I'm an addict.