Chocolate and me

Oh, I have had a long relationship with all things chocolate.  Yum yum.

It probably (most definitely) started in childhood.  My parents went through a bitter divorce when I was 9 and we were “rewarded” for good behaviour not with praise, but a choccy treat.  It was therefore very easy to associate the feeling of happiness with some choccie stuff.  For instance, the dark chocolate Bounty bars were a motivation.  And so it went on.

It’s so easily grabbable as well.  When D was born, there was 18 months between her and T, I might not have always had time to eat some proper but a bar was always quick to get hold off and eat whilst pushing a buggy/snatching a couple of minutes whilst one of them snoozed on me.

Soon I wasn’t having an evening meal, but instead a bag of buttons.  Kidding myself that that would be okay, because it was quick and I didn’t have time for me.  I made sure everyone else ate and ate properly, but not me.  Silly eh?  The one person who needed to be at the top of her game, two children depending on her, surviving on rubbish.

The years went on.  With them came two autism diagnoses, illness in the wider family, self employment worries and day-to-day “stuff” seemed easier to cope with with a little treat in the evening.  Diets wouldn’t work because however “good” I was during the day, my evening treat made up for it.

The one time I was doing really well on the Atkins diet and my mind was really focussed, I got assaulted in broad daylight in the street and it set me back.  Big time.

Fast forward to late last year and I resolved that 2015 would be the year I looked after “me” more.  I had a full health MOT (some bits more pleasant than others) and sailed through all the physical tests.  My brain was refusing to “switch off” at night and I was so, so tired and weepy so a few pills were prescribed.

Fast forward a bit more and I’m happy, really happy.  My big phobia of the dentist has been overcome and ….. guess what? my nightly chocolate has stopped.  It doesn’t taste the same and if I do have some, it seems very, very sweet.  I’m having to be careful how I get my nutrition now (since my two doubts of dental stuff, four weeks apart) and would much rather have some vegetables or this really tasty cauliflower soup I’ve found with some granary bread than a bar.

I haven’t gone completely anti though, my Costa drink of choice is still a “massimo decaf skinny mocha in a takeaway cup” but it’s not vital.  There’s been times in the last few weeks when I’ve struggled to finish one, Hubbie has been amazed.

The most important thing for me is that I’ve beaten this, quite honestly it probably was a sugar addiction.   

I still wouldn’t say “no” to a box of these  

but would spread them out over quite a few days, instead of “oooh, I shouldn’t be eating these, they’re “naughty”, I’ll have them all now so that they’re no longer around”.

Forest Gump might have said “life is like a box of chocolates…” but blimey, there’s definitely more to life than that and I’m enjoying it!

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