I used to be a chocoholic. No really, not simply someone who ate a generous amount of the stuff, but a regular, authentic addict. I had cravings. I could eat a whole box of Cadbury’s Milk Tray, leaving the ones I didn’t like, until there was nothing left to do but polish them off too.
It had nothing to do with this:
Although it is cute.
There were times when I would stuff my face, until I felt awful, or nauseous and Christmas time was the worst of all. I would buy huge quantities of chocolate, in the name of having them for everyone else for the holidays…nothing to do with me…certainly not.
And then I would proceed to eat them, continuously, throughout the day. Did I want lunch? No thanks I’m not really hungry. No kidding, chocolate chops. Something about eating chocolate made me feel good. Who cared about nausea. The taste, mmm.
I did this for years, and I’m not exactly certain of when it all stopped. But making an educated guess, it was probably around the time I began to learn that my thoughts and feelings had a huge impact on my life experience. Especially my feelings.
I didn’t stop eating chocolate on purpose. I never thought, I really must stop doing this, well okay I did think this…a lot…and often…but it didn’t make any difference. I was definitely addicted, plus it tasted so good. The only way I wouldn’t eat chocolate was to never have any in the house. That might last for a while, but eventually I’d succumb and bring the delicious, delightful stuff home.
It didn’t matter that I’d gain at least five pounds over any holiday season. Well it did, when it took a lot of tugging and pulling and squirming to get into my jeans. But the desire for chocolate was greater. It always won.
The weaning began slowly and ostensibly had nothing to do with chocolate. I began to focus on the things I wanted in life…the usual stuff, health, wealth and happiness. Every morning when I woke up I’d set the tone for my day. No jumping instantly out of bed for me any more. I’d lie there quietly imagining the happy day that awaited me. I’d fill myself with happy thoughts, maybe picturing a happy outcome in my day, or remembering happy things from the past. Big surprise…it felt good.
Instead of feeding my face, I began feeding my mind. My mental diet altered and along with it my life…truly for the better. I hardly noticed the changes as they were happening, they weren’t huge, wham bam, in your face changes that would have people saying “Wow you’re so different.” Yet I was.
It wasn’t until the day my Darling One offered me some chocolate and I said “No thanks“, without even thinking, that I knew. I no longer need chocolate to feel good, I could do that all by myself and it was only dependent on the thoughts and feelings I chose. And they didn’t make me want to throw up…always a plus.