Give Me Cookies Or Give Me Peace

I’d much rather be stuffing my menstrual face full of chocolate chip cookies than sitting here trying to figure out which words to commit to this blank slate.  Will these words alter the course of the entire cosmos?  Maybe.  I have a hunch that every single thought and action does, whether we know it or not.  Whether we believe it or not.  And I also believe that a cut deeper is that it doesn’t even matter, since this whole world we dream is but a grandiose, self-important illusion.

Chocolate chip cookies…  Did you know that I used to be a compulsive eater?  I might as well talk about this, since I can’t think of anything else to say…  And best case scenario, my sharing could be of service to someone else “out there”.  (Strange… you seem to be “out there” to me, and yet to you, you are just “here”.  It’s kinda like we’re all self contained space cadets traveling through the deep reaches of outer space [inner space?], occasionally colliding with other travelers, sometimes with body, sometimes mind, heart… or another automobile…)

Cookies.  Lemme back up.  Sugar.  I believe there are demons inside me who thirst for sugar the way predators thirst for blood.  I try really hard not to feed these little demons, because one taste and they become suddenly activated and unrelenting, wanting more and more and more and more and… And I do not enjoy being their bitch.  When I was seventeen, I would eat myself sick.  Don’t ask me why.  It was compulsive.  God only knows what kind of pain I was masking.  But “at the end of the day” (one of my favourite expressions lately), pain is pain.  And at the end of the day, too, rain rhymes with pain and at the end of the beginning of this now moment, it is raining and my pain is at bay.   How auspicious is this collision of converging words speaking of deeper reaches that can only be reached by those willing to get DIRTY.

What was I saying?

Pain is pain.

And I try to abstain

From sugar.

But I was about to bleed and I ate some Mexican chocolate ice cream at dinner with Dan on Monday.  Which greatly excited the demons.  Then on Tuesday, I remembered that Mykael and I had been given a phat stash of cookies which were hibernating in the freezer.  (Mykael’s parents’ friends, the Spinellos have a gay son who is in the cookie business with his partner and they give plenty of the “run-off” to mom and dad)  And then crème brule on Wednesday.  Ooops.  And then… yesterday, again I was perpetually haunted by the slumbering, frozen cookies.  I woke up from my nap with a primal yearning for sugar, butter and hard chocolatey lumps.  Fine.  Athena, you can have HALF a cookie.  YESSSSS!!!!  Lucky me!  So I chomped upon the false promise of hollow heaven.  And for that moment, my body sang siren songs of ecstasy.  Consuming sugar truly can be an experience of symphonic rapture.  (Just so you know, I am on the verge of crying right now, because life is strange and my friend Dan said I would make a great minister, and when I think about praising God all day, for a living, all I can do is cry.  I will cry as I deliver my sermons, because my heart yearns and begs to break in an infinitude of pieces, one for each lost space cadet who exploded from God’s mind in that first holy combustion)

Where was I?  Cookies.  So I ate that half and then I had that old, terrifying feeling of perpetual insatiability.  I felt the whisper of weakness inside, and the cellular memory of the days when I was bored, aching and confused beyond belief and all I could do was make ONE MORE trip the refrigerator, all the while, loathing my body, not wanting to feel it, and my mind chattering up a noisy storm about how tomorrow I would diet, exercise, regain some semblance of control.  All the while feeling disgusted, so alone and A-S-H-A-M-E-D.  Shame is so fascinating to me.  I must’ve written about this before, but I just have to comment on how shame was so intelligently fashioned to perpetuate it’s own survival, because it insists that one mustn’t expose or reveal it because it is UTTERLY repulsive and unlovable, so the afflicted party must invest in concealing it, and like a fungus, it runs rampant in dark, moist areas of the psyche.

So yesterday after I ate my half cookie I thirsted with everything that I am for MORE.  And I argued loudly with myself in my head for a few searing eternities before convincing myself to break off another SMALLISH hunk.  It was weird to feel the juxtaposition of where I have been and where I am now, with a will that can kick some serious impulse booty.  My will wears steel toe boots and uses her big, sexy brains to decimate shadowy impulses with insight and intelligence.  My will refuses to lose control.  How on earth do I manage to have good orgasms?*!??*$^$#()&%  I’ll tell you how~ HARD WORK.  I laugh out loud as I write that, because it is true and if I didn’t laugh, I’d probably be criticizing myself for that truth.  But honestly, when I’m having sex, I am mostly coaching myself on how to most optimally “enjoy” the experience.  Hey, at least the incessant chatter is trying it’s best to be of service.

So I broke off another modest chunk of cookie and thrust the bag back in the dark recesses of the freezer as though it was the predator and I was the prey… Then I devoured the meager, sweet, false promise of salvation in the space between breathing moments, only to find myself feeling just as empty and voracious as I was before I consumed it.  And yes, I felt some shame wash through me, telling me that I’d be best off hiding myself from others, and best off beating myself up a bit for slipping even a little toe’s distance into the repulsive pit of addictive behavior.  All of this over not even a SINGLE lousy cookie!

Now, we all have our own custom fashioned relationship to food, sugar, addiction, self control, impulse… But I share this with you to poke so much fun at my own particular combination, because if I didn’t, the mechanism of fear and shame would do everything in its power to convince me that I am ALONE in these wormy little habits and that they are utterly unlovable.  I used to believe it.  Sometimes I still do.  But mostly I find it amusing.  Mostly I want to illuminate shadows that we might share, so that YOU can feel more human, and therefore, you, WE can be FREE.

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1 Comment (+add yours?)

  1. dan
    Apr 02, 2010 @ 20:27:28

    Just Athena….Be free…Please be free..of the demons that sneak up and grab us all by the genitals as we try so hard to not be self depricating. I feel and heard every word you have wriiten today. BE FREE! Live life as though we have just this one day, this one hour, this one minute, this one second, this one moment. Be free…here and now!
    love is the answer.

    Reply

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