I broke the other day. Friday, to be exact. I went out of my mind, was encased in utter rage, and wanted, no, NEEDED chocolate.
Emotionally, it had been an up-and-down week from the start, which is difficult at any time. Throw in the fact that my brand new jeans fell apart on Thursday, my driver’s side headlight burnt out the same night, and a particularly painful, and moody, time of the month, and let me tell you that I can’t believe I didn’t break a dinner plate just for the satisfaction of controlled destruction.
I was sad because I’m 30-something years old and still don’t have the life I want. I was annoyed when the domes (yes, plural) on my brand new, and beloved, jeans fell off. By the time I got to the dealership so that the service centre could replace the bulb in my headlight I should have known that I was going to lose my mind. Instead, I sat there for 90 minutes, simmering that it was taking so long to change a light bulb, then seethed when I got my $78 bill. I was done with positive feelings and all that other good girl crap. I considered buying myself a cup of tea on my way home (we have skim milk at home and it’s just not the same as the 2% milk in any drive-thru), but the thought of talking to another human being made me want to throw things, so I got home with my pride in tact, barely, and proceeded to rage internally. No chocolate in sight, and I needed a fix. I needed it to fix me.
Why did I want desperately to turn to chocolate at that time? I’m able to tell you, because I had just enough sanity to consider while falling to pieces. As I fretted about in the kitchen, trying to decide if I would cheat on my mission and dive into the chocolate chips I knew were in the pantry, I asked myself what I hoped eating chocolate would do for me.
Eating chocolate, for me, is a process. My tongue, actually my whole mouth, appreciates chocolate. I don’t chew it up and swallow it down. I let it melt at least a little, I enjoy the textures of chocolate – from the solid shape, to the shavings made by my teeth, then that velvety, soul-soothing finish. And the flavour shoots happy messages to my brain. I relax, because in eating chocolate I am taking a step back from whatever I’m doing, wherever I am, however I’m feeling. I calm down, even if it’s just a little, and consider what’s going in my mind. I trick all of my senses, hoping to align them on the same track. And you know what? It works.
But on that day I decided I would be strong, for once in my life not let chocolate rule me! Surely I don’t need chocolate, I’m a grown woman, sound of mind and strong in stubborn characteristics. I calmed down, watched some TV, read a book, and when the time came, went to sleep. Saturday was a new day! But I still felt off. I decided to get some sympathy for my 90-minute, $78 car repair so I told my parents. They told me that I shouldn’t go to that service centre again, they knew where I should have taken my car to begin with. I turned to Facebook, hoping for sympathy. Within minutes I realized I’m an idiot, Facebook is not a place to garner sympathy, and I deleted the message because everyone out there knows what I should have done too. They must have talked to my parents. Then I shut down my computer, and my phone. Did I say I was in a rage on Friday? That’s hilarious because until Saturday afternoon I had no idea what rage really was. I went to Church, I ate a quick dinner and, fearing for the relationships I have with, well, everyone in my life, I tuned out of The World and watched romantic comedies on TV, letting my mind fill with nothing, be distracted by nothing. Sunday morning I enjoyed a pre-planned social brunch, but found myself not really tuned into the conversations, I was still mentally zapped. But still I did not turn to chocolate.
As I write this entry it is Monday night, and I still haven’t completely recovered from The Rage. I’m no longer angry, but I feel restless. And still have not touched chocolate. I’m seriously wondering whether that’s the right choice. I still haven’t figured out how to replace chocolate. I spend far too much time considering snack ideas and coming up with nothing (which is better than choosing everything, I suppose). Looking back at the last few days I think I should have turned to music, another great love of my life, but today in particular I spent mostly in silence, not even turning on the TV. But then I consider that I spent a good portion of my day getting lost in a book, as reading is yet another of my great loves. Was it the right choice? Am I supposed to bounce back after The Rage? Or is this all part of the process of taking control of my life?
Um, I mean, taking control of my chocolate addiction?