Addiction, the struggle is real…

I sat there, in bed, while my son was crying next to me due to a fever. He didn’t want me to comfort him but he wanted me close, so I sat there and ate apple pie with vanilla custard and had some coffee. This, after a decadent indulgence in chocolate pralines that lasted two days. Perhaps it wasn’t “that many” pralines but they’re rich and I shouldn’t have had them anyway. Regardless I sat there and ate apple pie from a bowl, filled to the brim.

And when the tiny man fell asleep on my lap I was left alone in the peaceful tranquility of my overworked brain. A perfect time for some introspection and meditation, or something equally poetic.

My poor brain was jolted out of its slumber pretty quick when the sugar high hit me like a ton of bricks. It was only then that I realized that my old addiction was back, and this time it means business!

I’m a sugar addict. A real sugar junkie. I self medicate with sugar, which is my drug of choice. I love sugar and consume it by the sleeve-full, with no regards to what form it’s in. From complex carbs to simple sugars, I love it all, and breaking that habit was a nightmare beyond all nightmares. It took me three months of torture to get myself to a good place, and then it took about that long to get back into it.

I remember a specific day especially, when I was out with my best friend for an amazing dinner to celebrate that I had beaten the sugar monster. We split a dessert, a chocolate and licorice lava cake. Delicious. But my body had been detoxed from refined sugars for two years so what happened was I got massive heart palpitations and stomach cramps. I thought I was going to die, so we paced through Stockholm until I settled down a bit.

And instead of that propelling me to never touch sweets again, instead it became a challenge to find my way back to where I started. And sure enough, I am there. I can consume my body weight in sugar, every single day. And I do. Not really considering it to be that big of a deal.

Until today. In bed, next to my sick child, I realized that I was the really sick one. An addict. And it’s been said so many times before, once an addict – always an addict. But I was recovering, which I no longer am. Today I’m not even knee-deep I’m waist-deep in addiction and I need to stop.

I will not quit cold turkey again, instead I will try and phase out the refined sugars first. Then we’re going to attack the part of life that’s always the hardest for me – complex carbs. The breads and pastas, the white rices and all of the good stuff. The things that can be substituted but never replaced.

But I miss fitting into clothes. I miss sleeping without waking because I have a hankering (yes, my addiction is that bad). I miss not being dependent on having something sweet at the house at all times and mostly I miss not being ashamed of my choices.

No new era will start, no new chapter or new book. Instead I will just do better now, where I am and with the tools I have at my disposal. Addiction is awful and a battle to end all battles, but it can be kept in check and it will be once again.

Life isn’t static and this is just a bit of a rough patch. Nothing new or revolutionary, but something that most people encounter on their journey – in one form or another.

May the odds be ever in my flavor… I mean favor.

B. Campbell

Teething, a hell of its own.

Some kids go through it without too much whining and pain whilst others go through hell. But as it’s often been said, if you’re going through hell – keep going. So we do.

Mr Pudgy the whale is having a shitty time teething, which translates to even worse days and nights for the mother unit. He’s whining nonstop and clinging onto me as if I’m somehow the cure. I’m not and he knows it but he keeps hoping that being on me while screaming might make things better. And who knows, maybe it does on some level. 

I’m sure you can tell, just by looking, that the pictures above are from his nap time. It’s obvious to see that he has no interest in sleeping, be it day or night. And most people will testify to less sleep during teething but for a child with a severe sleeping disorder this is devastating. Or rather it is that to his mother. His usually incrimental sleep has become even more incrimental and some nights even nonexistent which means no sleep for the mom either. And it’s one thing to not sleep a night and then catch up on your sleep later but after a series of some three nights where the boy has slept a grand total of an hour you are not human anymore.

So a few days ago I had a total breakdown. I spent all night crying along with Erik, wondering how I would pull through. But dawn came and I could see a bit clearer. So I packed up some stuff and took Erik into Stockholm. He slept for two consecutive hours, waking a bit here and there but fell back asleep when rocked.

I obvoiusly didn’t get any sleep but I had some retail therapy. Buying myself a dress, two sweaters and a ring. I also met up with my best friend and had both dinner and fika, while at it. Because if we had stayed at home I might have just spontaneously combusted.

Life as a single parent is hard, especially when your child has a sleeping disorder and there is no money coming in. It’s extra hard when his absetnee father doesn’t sign over custody on you so you’re locked into a place where you can’t even put the child in queue for a spot in a kindergarten. It’s a stressful situation knowing you have the full responsibility but absolutely no rights. But I’m hoping things will change in that arena, soon. I reached out to the boy’s father to sign over custody, today, in bopes that he might do the right thing for once. I have no hopes whatsoever that he will do what’s best for my child but one can always try.

In the meantime I do all I can and then some to ensure that my baby boy has all he could ever want or need. Even with a tremendous lack of sleep, a constant headache and enough stress to kill a normal human being I still trot on. Why? Because I love life. I love living, and each new day brings with it something positive. Something new and worthwhile. My boy is growing, sitting himself up like a pro and getting onto his stomach from a seated position. He’s full of energy and life, and if that doesn’t get you through the day then nothing will.

It is my will to live, my love for life that has gotten me through all the bad stuff. And in the end there is but one thing that controls how you respond to whatever is going on in your life – you and your perception. Change your outlook on life and you’ll realize that you are in fact living in the best of times.

If all else fails get yourself a new dress and a ring. Or whatever makes you equally excited.

But all that shopping aside, waking up to a view like this. Or going for a drive, making Erik laugh, trying new foods, talking to a loved one. Those are the real motivators. All else is gravy.

This. This is what heaven looks like: a happy and healthy boy who has everything he needs. Content. That is absolute heaven to me. All worries just melt away, all tiredness goes out the window. He is my love, my life – my boy.
Campbell of Sweden

Heaven

I don’t believe in life after death, that idea has never appealed to me. But I lie here in the dark listening to him breathe and watch him move his pudgy little legs and even pudgier tiny feetsies and I wonder how anyone can think that there is a place better than that.

If there was a heaven that’s what it would look like for me: a quiet Friday night before Christmas with my tiny boy sleeping safely and soundly. His little body sprawled out in my bed, that he’s made his.

How can anyone think that there is a better place anywhere else? God is in the details, I’ve heard. Well then God, you’ve outdone yourself with this boy.

And I rest my weary soul knowing that I have seen heaven, and it’s absolutely fantastic.

Ms. Campbell