Am I Better?

It has been a sobering realization over the last few months, that I am no different than these poor, unfortunate souls we see on this page. These men are shooting up heroin, even though they have hardened, infected veins. Even though they have probably lost all significant, intimate relationships in their lives. Even though all there is to them and their lives is the endless, shaky search for more heroin.

Drug users lie, cheat, steal, to get their drugs. They minimize the effects on themselves, hang around with other people who shoot up like they do. They steel their hearts against the pain and concern of their family members. And they keep on using. Regardless.

And here I am, struggling along with obesity and all that comes with it: gastric reflux, bad knees that sound like a man eating peanuts when I walk up and down stairs, and prospect of getting a host of weight-related illnesses and secondary problems. For one, a stiff neck from propping myself up at night on a bunch of pillows. Why? So my reflux won't bother me so much. Why do I have reflux? Because I eat chocolate. And I eat too much at night--the one time of day when I can eat a decent meal unrushed. But see--even here I'm doing it: making excuses, passing it off. Meanwhile, I've all but lost my singing voice, feel awful about myself, have a wardrobe of unattractive, baggy clothes, and feel like isolating myself. I keep saying that one day I'll drop the weight and get serious about my health. Maybe I'll become a vegan, or I'll start training to climb Mt. Whitney next year when I turn 50. But I keep on eating my chocolate chip cookies, and reaching for everything sweet and fattening. Regardless.

Am I really all that much better than these heroin users?