Relapse alert. Relapse alert.
For those that have been reading for a while, you’ll know that I managed to overcome a true addition that I once had. People won’t take it seriously, but if I didn’t take drastic action, I would have been in trouble.
I used to eat too much sweets.
I won’t go into it here again, but I used to eat so many everyday, and it was a problem.
I somehow managed to break free of the habit, and got to the point where I was completely indifferent to them. I didn’t have any urges whatsoever, because I’d got to the point where I knew that they weren’t something I’d ever go back to.
Until I had to.
As discussed on the Curve recap, I was very busy as one of the many helpers on the day. That involved (as my iPhone’s handy pedometer showed me) over 33,000 steps on the day of the event. The day prior I barely ate, and on the day itself, I only had breakfast and about three chicken nuggets to see me through.
It had been a very long day of lifting, running and decision-making, so I was vulnerable. That vulnerability came to a head once the event ended, the VIP lounge was empty and those gummy strawberries were calling me.
I had gone a full 594 days without sweets, and the situation called for it.
I shifted a sofa to the back of the hall, then got another strawberry, then a fizzy dummy thing, and another. And another.
It’s a real good job that I’m not addicted to anything more serious, because I swear down that the urge was uncontrollable once I had broken my fast. The circumstances – having barely eaten after lots of activity – meant that I could kind of justify it, but I wasn’t happy.
But it carried on. After we got back home from Liverpool, I couldn’t stop. Once I got home and saw lemon sherbets, and backed three of them down too. Then some more later that night.
Too much.
Writing this draws a line in the sand. It’s done. I’m not going back. Trust me this time. I’m actually going to update after next year’s Curve, in case something like that happens again.