Well, it's the holidays....a time for family and friends. A time to look within ourselves to understand why we do what we do. A time to face up to the fact that we're not the beings that we had hoped to be. And, sometimes, it's a time to admit that we have a problem. For me, today is that day.
Hi. My name is Rozi, and I'm an addict.
[Hello, Rozi.]
I guess that I've know that I've had some sort of problem every since I was a puppy. Back then, it seemed that we were all so carefree. We'd run around and jump over each other and pretty much kill time until it was time for dinner (which, I might add, was always on our birth mother...get it?). We'd rassle and we'd nip at each other, and it was probably back then that I should have realized that I had this ... this ... this thing inside of me that made me unable to stop things that I knew, deep down, were bad for me. At that time, it was just not being able to stop nipping at the tails of my sister and my cousins (sorry, Tink). I know that it was wrong of me to behave that way, and even though a part of me knew that I should act otherwise, I just couldn't. But, to be fair, the others in my litter weren't much different, so I didn't stand out and I didn't think about seeking help.
Time passed, and I ended up in this wonderful household with my new sister Izzi and my favorite person (my mama) and those impulses seemed to pass. For a while. It wasn't long before my inner self started to come through. Started with my not being able to control my playing in the house. I'd find something (a scarf; a slipper) that was minding its own business and I'd drag it across the floor, unable to stop myself. I don't know what I was thinking: that it would come to life and be a playmate, filling a void within my soul (oh, wait, I had Izzi as a playmate, so that's probably not it)? Looking for the attention that I no longer had (oh, wait, I had a ton more attention here than I did with my birth mother and dozens of cousins)? Well, whatever it was, I found that I just could not stop once I started. One time, mama came home to find that half the mitten bucket was emptied and strewn all over the floor. And, another time, some of my addictive behaviour was clear when people walked into the bathroom after a night in which I was obsessed with finding out how many pulls it took to get to the cardboard of a toilet paper roll.
But, this behavior was - as the professionals would say - an entry level "drug". It was a portend of things to come.
And, by "things to come," I mean food. Although, it's more accurate to say that my obsession with food came with me when I moved into this family. For some reason, I just can't seem to get enough food and it feels like no matter how much I eat, I'm always hungry. For instance, when it's time for dinner, I find that I not only vacuum up the food that mama has given me, but I often eat what was put out for Izzi. I love my sister, but I still can't help myself. And, if I'm in the kitchen and food is dropped on the floor, I rush to suck it up before anyone has a chance to move it out of the way. Also, as do most addicts like me, have a (literal) nose for food: I can tell if a potato chip is being crunched across the room, or if cheese is being sliced a floor below me. And, I'm there: Rozi on the spot. I just can't seem to help myself.
But, lately, that eating disorder has taken and even darker turn: I eat things that aren't really food. I know that some people think that I have pica (look it up here), and maybe I do. Or, maybe I just like the feel and the taste of what others would consider "common household objects" like straight pins. Or pencils.
And, like I said, I just can't seem to help myself.
But, today, I felt a new urge taking over, one that I was just not able to shake. I became a drug addict. There, I said it. I was wondering what it would be like to have some 'magic elixir' in my body, one that wasn't as tasty or filling as food, but one that I thought would change who I was. I found a discrete way to have a little of a drug and before I had a chance to see what it would do to me...mama found out!!! She called the doctor who told her what to watch for and she did and boy was she worried. But, I'm fine now; I really didn't have much of the drug. And, y'know, I'm realizing that it wasn't all it was cracked up to be. Especially since I heard mama talking about "rushing me to the emergency room" and "making me throw up" and "having me drink Hydrogen Peroxide. Icky. I don't know what Hydrogen Peroxide is (aside from its being H2O2) but I don't want any of that.
So, I am standing (well, more like lying...well more like sprawled out on the couch dictating) here to tell you that I am going to "just say no" the next time I have the opportunity to have a drug. I know that I'm just a little girl and I want to have my whole life ahead of me. So, I'm quitting, cold rotisserie chicken.
But, I don't think I'm ready to stop eating whatever falls on the floor, or that I'm ready to stop running around like a crazy girl and pulling mittens and scarves and slippers through the house.
All that is for another day. Like, maybe April Fools?
Arf, Arf, Arf, Yip,
Rozi
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| Photo by Ben |
[Hello, Rozi.]
I guess that I've know that I've had some sort of problem every since I was a puppy. Back then, it seemed that we were all so carefree. We'd run around and jump over each other and pretty much kill time until it was time for dinner (which, I might add, was always on our birth mother...get it?). We'd rassle and we'd nip at each other, and it was probably back then that I should have realized that I had this ... this ... this thing inside of me that made me unable to stop things that I knew, deep down, were bad for me. At that time, it was just not being able to stop nipping at the tails of my sister and my cousins (sorry, Tink). I know that it was wrong of me to behave that way, and even though a part of me knew that I should act otherwise, I just couldn't. But, to be fair, the others in my litter weren't much different, so I didn't stand out and I didn't think about seeking help.
Time passed, and I ended up in this wonderful household with my new sister Izzi and my favorite person (my mama) and those impulses seemed to pass. For a while. It wasn't long before my inner self started to come through. Started with my not being able to control my playing in the house. I'd find something (a scarf; a slipper) that was minding its own business and I'd drag it across the floor, unable to stop myself. I don't know what I was thinking: that it would come to life and be a playmate, filling a void within my soul (oh, wait, I had Izzi as a playmate, so that's probably not it)? Looking for the attention that I no longer had (oh, wait, I had a ton more attention here than I did with my birth mother and dozens of cousins)? Well, whatever it was, I found that I just could not stop once I started. One time, mama came home to find that half the mitten bucket was emptied and strewn all over the floor. And, another time, some of my addictive behaviour was clear when people walked into the bathroom after a night in which I was obsessed with finding out how many pulls it took to get to the cardboard of a toilet paper roll.
But, this behavior was - as the professionals would say - an entry level "drug". It was a portend of things to come.
And, by "things to come," I mean food. Although, it's more accurate to say that my obsession with food came with me when I moved into this family. For some reason, I just can't seem to get enough food and it feels like no matter how much I eat, I'm always hungry. For instance, when it's time for dinner, I find that I not only vacuum up the food that mama has given me, but I often eat what was put out for Izzi. I love my sister, but I still can't help myself. And, if I'm in the kitchen and food is dropped on the floor, I rush to suck it up before anyone has a chance to move it out of the way. Also, as do most addicts like me, have a (literal) nose for food: I can tell if a potato chip is being crunched across the room, or if cheese is being sliced a floor below me. And, I'm there: Rozi on the spot. I just can't seem to help myself.
But, lately, that eating disorder has taken and even darker turn: I eat things that aren't really food. I know that some people think that I have pica (look it up here), and maybe I do. Or, maybe I just like the feel and the taste of what others would consider "common household objects" like straight pins. Or pencils.
And, like I said, I just can't seem to help myself.
But, today, I felt a new urge taking over, one that I was just not able to shake. I became a drug addict. There, I said it. I was wondering what it would be like to have some 'magic elixir' in my body, one that wasn't as tasty or filling as food, but one that I thought would change who I was. I found a discrete way to have a little of a drug and before I had a chance to see what it would do to me...mama found out!!! She called the doctor who told her what to watch for and she did and boy was she worried. But, I'm fine now; I really didn't have much of the drug. And, y'know, I'm realizing that it wasn't all it was cracked up to be. Especially since I heard mama talking about "rushing me to the emergency room" and "making me throw up" and "having me drink Hydrogen Peroxide. Icky. I don't know what Hydrogen Peroxide is (aside from its being H2O2) but I don't want any of that.
So, I am standing (well, more like lying...well more like sprawled out on the couch dictating) here to tell you that I am going to "just say no" the next time I have the opportunity to have a drug. I know that I'm just a little girl and I want to have my whole life ahead of me. So, I'm quitting, cold rotisserie chicken.
But, I don't think I'm ready to stop eating whatever falls on the floor, or that I'm ready to stop running around like a crazy girl and pulling mittens and scarves and slippers through the house.
All that is for another day. Like, maybe April Fools?
Arf, Arf, Arf, Yip,
Rozi
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