Evening is a bad time for me for eating too much sugar. I know I shouldn’t so close to bed time but I can’t seem to stop myself sometimes. I was just saying to someone yesterday that if we are doing something repeatedly when we know it is to our detriment then there is an underlying reason for it. And that reason has nothing to do with the actual thing we’re doing.
So I am sitting here tonight trying to figure it out. Why is after supper such a difficult time for me? Which leads me to the question – what happened in my childhood home at this time of day?
Here’s the thing. I don’t remember. At all. I mean I have absolutely zero memory of this time of day. For those of you who have normal childhood memories you’re probably thinking oh come on, you’ve got to remember something.
Nope, nothing. Zip. There is just a huge void in the evening. Which in my case likely means something really bad happened around this hour. Often. Having very few childhood memories (or in my case almost none) is a trauma response. It’s a survival mechanism. It’s what got me through my childhood.
But now I need to sort out what is happening in the present. And the only way to do that is to get in there way in the back of the damn closet again and find the after supper hour skeleton. I’ll have to haul him out and shine the light on him in order to break this pattern.
The problem is these skeletons are big and scary and ugly. And the only way to deal with them is to examine them in great detail, acknowledge their existence, and deal with the fallout with self-compassion. I can tell you from previous experience that it is an extremely difficult, painful, and at times horrifying experience. But it’s necessary.
So I’m goin’ in. Because the only way out is through. And I now have a lot more courage than I used to. Wish me luck.