i’m not a bear, so why do i eat like i’m preparing for hibernation

binge eating. oh sweet, sweet binge eating. this opponent i’ve lost to more than any other competitor dueling me for self-control. world war III is not fought on the ground. it is not sailing in the air. it is not spinning through the seas. it is not in the future. no, world war III is happening right now inside our heads as we strategize a war of attrition against our own dark habits. and binge eating is a stronghold yet to be conquered.

if you’re wondering whether i’m getting off course from my music career blog by talking about diet, you’re probably right. but let’s wait and see how this affects the totality of each waking moment colliding to form what is a day on earth. we’ll work this one backwards, since every other health aid, both digitized and organic, starts at the beginning and never gets anywhere.

i awoke at 0400 hours this morning feeling ten feet below subpar. an expanded, rounded gut invaded the abdominal area that is usually relatively flat (this is not a boast because the body image issues associated with it are, honestly, rampant). a cloudy conscious skated to life with an incessant headache cured by a later, extended journey back to slumber. bowels billowed like a sailboat in a hurricane, captain fully aware the night is darkest before the dawn. despite these pitiful complaints weaved into vivid imagery by a writer spoiled out of his spiffy outfits, the guilt is the most extreme inflammation of all.

well-being is a core value, as it should be for any sane individual. my father struggled with nutrition. as a result, i indirectly but also with maximum intention am in a perpetual state of manipulation to break the cycle. tragically, this operates like the Discover cashback program in the first year; for every glimmer of caloric wisdom earned, it is matched with a malicious downturn. the dread is mounted as a symbol of repeated failure and a continual absence of reigns to direct a gallop toward balance.

continuing the toe-then-heel procession, the previous night ended in a food coma. if you’re dreams are difficult to obtain, i’d bet an engorgement of food would tuck you right in. this is where music steps on stage for its debut appearance because productivity becomes an issue. i can’t be writing music if i’m fast asleep. digging deeper, music is an expression requiring all faculties. creating a complex, unique, and accurately representative song demands my best. predictably so, when i’m spiraling like sprayed whipped cream from the disappointment of an irresponsible consumption, it’s difficult to clear my head and get in the zone. music morphs into the course at dinner that i never eat.

stepping to our final landmark, we arrive at ground zero, where i timestamp the origin of a binge. the compulsion glides underneath waiting for a morsel to register before shooting to the surface to enact its rampage. to walk away from available food is nothing short of a miracle of willpower. could it be the desire for a carbohydrated sugar high? what about an emotional trigger that’s been utilized in the past to survive the lows? worst of all, what if i frankly don’t care as much as i believe i do? maybe i’m destined to balloon in size until my heart gives out and the unproportionate platter claims the throne. 

the motives of addiction baffle me, along with millions of others. what a problem to have, binging when others starve. why can’t i internalize my entitlement and change? i swear i’m not a bear, so why do i eat like i’m preparing for hibernation?

in retrospect, this is less about the motives as it is the revolving guilt of addiction. to speak of having too much is to legitimize the fictitious phrase “let them eat cake”. worse than that, it’s to become it.

– D K T


life ends. why pretend

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