This is not my first fast. I have fasted numerous times in my life. Most of them were for spiritual reasons - a time of prayer and fasting. When I was working with the college group in Tampa, I actually fasted for 28 days. I only would drink juice for breakfast and lunch and then have bread or dinner. I even did a juice fast a few years back. In fact, it was the success of that particular one that led me to do this one. I wanted to start my attack on addiction with a juice fast - to clean my body out and provide a jolt to my system. I guess it was a way to tell my body that things were going to change - NOW.
Well, this fast is different than any other I have been on . It seems my body is actually fighting me. Today has been horrible. I woke up feeling nauseated. I haven't wanted to drink my juice or water. But I have been severely tempted to wolf down handfuls of peanuts or to steal Gabe's waffle. I have been battling torturous images of food all day, as well as an avalanche of depressing thoughts. And now, the hives to end the day.
Earlier today, Heather and I were trying to work out some issues with her Financial Aid. I was driving her around FSU to fill out forms and such. She needed to be able to eat lunch while were driving, and Gabe was hungry as well. So we stopped at McDonald's to get them some food. The smell of the food in the car was overwhelming. As I breathed in Heather's chicken sandwich, I actually started to cry. Now I have cried at some stupid stuff over the years. I cried at one a Wonder Pets episode the other day. One of the auditions last night on American Idol made me cry. But crying over a chicken sandwich? That I don't even like?
It seems like my body knows what is going on and is fighting me. I can really understand what Paul talks about - the struggle between the old self and new man. I feel the old food addicted self inside screaming and fighting. He wants food. I went to cook Heather's hamburger last night and suddenly found myself deluged by images of big juicy burgers from restaurants all over the place. It was ridiculous. I knew this would be hard, but the seriousness with which I approached this effort seems to have pushed things to a higher level.
I know that Satan is not happy with this. I'm sure he isn't sitting there going, "Yeah, sure. No problem. Let's get rid of a problem that has hampered you for thirty years. Good on ya, mate." He is going to fight dirty. I can already recognize his rotten sneaky methods. The hateful and accusing thoughts. The encouragements to give up and go eat something. The suggestions to hurt myself or worse. The lie that I am alone in this and just being stupid.
I also know that the hives are part of the process. As the fast begins, there is a detoxification process. This happened last time too (just not as extreme). You start to get nasty tastes in your mouth, your skin gets dry and feels scummy. My eyes burn as the toxins from my skin get into them. It is very common for hives to break out due to the toxicity of the chemicals seeping out of the skin. Doesn't make it itch any less, though. I knew this wouldn't be easy and that the old person I was wouldn't go quietly into the night. I need to persevere and keep it up. The increase in opposition and unpleasantness probably means it is working.
Well, I am going to try to go back to bed. The storms outside have subsided and the itching seems to have calmed down momentarily. Maybe I can actually drift off now. Three days down. Tomorrow is a new day (and it is coming fast).
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