Last night I ate an entire pound of nuts while bing-watching 4 hours of TV. After that, I tossed and turned all night and the next morning felt like I had a greasy bowling ball in my bloated stomach.
I was disappointed in my lack of control and remembered this was why I should never keep nuts in the house.
I mentioned this to a friend, who pointed out that my problem was not mixed nuts. Nor was it binge-watching bad TV.
My problem was being mindless.
He suggested that when I eat mixed nuts that I do it mindfully. He spoke about food mediation – paying attention to everything from preparation, to tasting, to swallowing, to how it feels.
He said I should examine my feelings when I am “zoning out”. He hinted that I was trying to escape some feeling and that it was no different than drinking too much (been there), running away to live in a truck (oops) or over-exercising (guilty as charged).
I explained that I used to love dinnertime because that was “our time” for Ellen and me. We would talk about what to eat. We would cook, or go out or order takeout. We’d take the dog for a walk. We’d talk about our day. We’d relax. We’d watch a movie, feed the pets and unwind.
But now, dinnertime is just something for me to get through so I can move on to my next activity.
It’s not a bad time. But it is no longer a good time either.
He said, “That is not your life anymore. You are now the guy who eats dinner alone. You have to learn to enjoy it.”
He nailed it.
That life is over.
I am a single guy who lives alone. Who eats dinner alone. Who walks the dog alone.
I am no longer married. I no longer have to worry about my wife’s health. Or providing for her if I die. Or her kids. Or her family. Or her feelings.
I don’t have to consider Ellen in anything – because she is not here.
It is ok for me to remember our past, but not for me to try to hold onto it.
And while I am enjoying parts of my life – like drumming, painting and swimming, there are clearly parts of my old life that I am clinging to.
I’ve been meditating every morning for a few weeks. It’s a practice I did early in sobriety, and then again when I first began yoga but had gotten away from.
It is helping me to be more mindful instead of just plowing through each day the way I plowed through that bag of nuts.
With mindfulness, things become clear. For me, realizations appear suddenly.
One day, I’m overeating nuts. The next, I make a conscious decision to stop eating when I’m full and I no longer have a nut problem.
One day, I’m fully immersed living my life “on the road”. The next day, I know it’s time for me to return to society.
Today, it became clear that I should no longer wear my wedding ring. Legally, I have been single since the moment Ellen died a year ago. In my mind I have been a widower – still “married” to a dead woman who I love.
I loved being married. I loved my wife. I loved being a stepfather and a family man. It was my entire identity.
Except now it is not.
It doesn’t matter if I miss my old life. Or how much I loved Ellen. Or that I am accustomed to wearing the ring. My wife died. I am a single man who lives alone.
Wearing the ring doesn’t change that.