Member since:
August 21, 2007

Ending the Affair

January 28, 2008 02:56 PM EST

views: 169 | comments: 48

I've been contemplating just that for quite a while now. Unfortunately, so many times I just get sucked back in, lured by what seems to be my uncontrollable sense desires. Last night, however, I made the resolve to go cold turkey. I thought writing about it might help me cope.

My husband, of course, is fully supportive; but is also detached, a handy part of his Buddha nature. This is nothing I've hid from him. He came into the situation with open eyes over six years ago, and promised to love me in spite of my ups and downs and struggles with this situation. I know there are groups for this type of behavior, but the shame and embarrassment just won't let me seek them out.

I felt the cold rush of air envelope me as I closed the door and bid farewell only yesterday. Although, I knew I couldn't avoid further encounters due to our close proximity, I had made my affirmations quite clear, and my resolve to end this affair was high. I wasn't doing it for my marriage. My marriage, in spite of all of this, was on solid ground. My husband is truly a Superman, who really meant for better or worse. I had to do this for myself.

It's been twenty-four hours now. Making it to this point has been quite an accomplishment for me. Sleep helps to a certain extent. Although, I'm quite a sound sleeper, I awoke at three am suffering from withdrawal symptoms. There was this incredible hunger and thirst gnawing at me from deep within. I won't go into details. Perhaps it was some sensual dream I was having of just having my lips so close…. no, don't even go there.

I woke up to pack my husband a healthy lunch, and fixed him a plateful of blueberry pancakes for breakfast. I lavish him with savory treats like this on a constant basis. Perhaps, it's my own guilt leaking through. He seemed to push the whole matter aside as he asked me why I wasn't eating. But it all still weighed heavily on my mind. I just handed him whipped cream to go on his pancakes, and neither of us brought the topic up.

After he had left for work, I took extra pains with my make up, putting on my new sweater to go out. I searched and searched for my car keys, which were not in their usual place. I called my husband and asked if he happened to know where they where. He had them. It was just a mistake I tell myself. He drove my car last. Did he think I was going to cave and have a rendezvous at the grocery store or the local pizza parlor?

Like I said, it's been twenty-four hours now. Once I lasted seven days. Another time I lasted four days. I think there is hope. Like they say, the third time is a charm. I'm taking it one day at a time, for as long as I can possibly go on without this weight around me, dragging me down.

So, there you have it. I have resolved to end this affair I have with food, at least until I get it to a manageable level, where I just don't care that much any more, or at least not in the same way I did. I just hope I don't fall, totally, madly head over heels again once Valentine's Day rolls around and my husband sits those dark chocolate Godivas in front of me.