Losing My Favorite Addictions
Change always seems to come too quickly or not quickly enough. Perhaps it is good that things are slow right now.
My changes are internal, not external. My tolerance for white flour and sugar is dropping. It’s been going on for a while, but apparently slowly enough for me not to take it seriously. However, a few weeks ago, I ate a rich dessert and then felt miserable for the rest of the evening. I felt bloated and uncomfortable. Yuck. Last week I discovered I no longer really like barbecue potato chips, one of my all-time favorite indulgences.
I feel like I’m losing my friends. What good is “comfort food” that makes one uncomfortable? One of my friends said I should go to a doctor. I said, “And say what? ‘Hey, doc. I’m losing my tolerance for junk food. I have to actually eat healthy now. Can you fix me?’?” What will become of me? Will I end up eating vegetables? Heavens!
I think the same thing is going on in other areas of my life. This past election cycle, I got out of the habit of watching regular, network TV. The election is over and I still can’t make myself care about much of anything that’s on.
Barry watches the news every day. I’ve come to realize how useless 99.9% of it is. First, they tell you what they think will happen. Then they give live coverage of the event itself. Then, they tell you what happened. Then they analyze the result and its implication for possible future events. Think of 9/11. Even if you lived in a cave in Tibet, when hungry, you would go to the nearest temple for food and a newspaper would be lying around with a giant headline on it proclaiming what happened. Another example is the housing market. You can watch the trends on the news, but when it comes time to buy or sell, ultimately you will have to do your own research to find the market statistics relevant to you. All the rest is noise. That’s right: 99.9% of the evening news is noise. You still have to do your own homework.
Some of my distaste for everything may come from me having a cold. Buying groceries when nothing sounds appealing is a challenge, but the alternative is to have no food in the house.
But this feels bigger than that.
All of this means that I have zero distractions from my feelings. Every weird issue I can think of is rising to the surface. I have no means of avoiding anything. I believe most people have their pet addictions. I feel like I’m being robbed of mine. (Whine. Whine.) My papanca (ever-expanding proliferation of mental concepts) is kicking my butt.