The Crusade (standard:other, 2735 words)
Author: Lucky Wilson	Added: Nov 16 2007	Views/Reads: 2915/1953	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Finding the meaning of addictions.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

molestation either, but I felt she knew I was in danger because she 
came for me and took me into her warm bosom and her even warmer 
kitchen. 

I became a secret sexual being.  I would rub things against my pussy to
quell the” itch” that was there.  It seemed to work for a time, but the 
“itch” always came back.  I didn't know what else to do.  So I touched 
myself to stop the ache that was placed inside of me before I was old 
enough to know what it was.  I am still a secret sexual being and enjoy 
that secrecy.  I have sexual encounters with men and feel empty seconds 
before anything begins.  I know what they want of me and I feel nothing 
for them.  I can turn myself off like a light switch and then after 
it's all said and done, turn myself back on.  They don't realize it; if 
they do they never say anything.  I keep them at bay with my teasing 
and disinterest.  I was never interested in the first place, but now I 
make it known to them.  As I get older, I realize I need to stop this 
roller coaster ride that I placed myself on.  I need to find out who I 
really am and what in this world I need and want. 

I am a secret binge eater.  I plan out my binges like a burglar plans
out a burglary.  I make plans to go to grocery stores after work and by 
tons of junk food, cookies, cakes, pies, chips, sodas, to consume in 
just a few hours.  I feel guilty that the people in the store will know 
what I am up to, but I deceive myself by saying that they probably 
think I am buying all this food for a party and not for my own 
satisfaction.  When I get home, I turn off all the lights and sit in 
front of the television with all of my food surrounding me.  I gorge 
myself on sweet iced cookies, chocolate chip cookies, peanut butter 
cookies, spicy Doritos,  cheesy Doritos,  gallons of Coke with Lime or 
regular Coke,  small pecan pies, large pecan pies, chocolate cake, 
brownies with icing on top, or blonde brownies.  I eat, eat, eat, eat, 
eat, eat; my jaw hurts from all the chewing and there are crumbs 
covering my lap, but I continue to eat.  I eat, eat, eat, eat, eat, 
eat, eat; my stomach aches and I feel the vomit rising in the back of 
my throat, still I eat.  I eat, eat, eat, eat, eat, eat, eat; my 
fingers and hands are cramping up from opening packages, and stuffing 
food in my mouth, but I have to continue because the hole is not filled 
completely.  I eat, eat, eat, eat, eat, eat; I eat slower and slower 
because my chest hurts, there is a sharp pain in my left arm and I 
can't get off the couch, but I am still eating.  Before I know it, 
everything is gone, the packages are empty and I sit in wonderment.  I 
wonder where all that food went.  The hole is still not filled 
completely, but there is no more snack food to eat.  So I wait an hour 
and quietly drink my Coke.   My stomach is aching and sticking out like 
I am about to deliver; I am breathing so hard my breaths come in timed 
pants like a pregnant woman breathing through the contractions.   I 
feel heavy in my stomach, so I rub it to attempt to soothe the ache 
that is there.    It is so round and hard and hurts so much.  After ten 
minutes, which to me seems like two hours, I tell myself that I need to 
eat something because snacks don't count as a meal.  So I roll myself 
off the couch and sluggishly stumble into the kitchen to look in the 
refrigerator.  There are leftovers of cheese lasagna, soy bean patties, 
chicken fettuccini, turkey and broccoli divan, and other assorted 
dishes.  I look in the freezer and there are frozen dinners from Weight 
Watchers.   I go back to the bottom and take out a bowl of leftovers 
and stick it in the microwave.  I wait and eat the whole bowl.  There 
was enough in the bowl to last a single person a week or more.  My 
stomach still hurts and the hole is still not completely filled.  I 
have more Coke and sit in front of the television and wonder why I am 
so alone in this world.  Why can't I be close to someone?  Why is this 
hole in my soul?  What do I need to do to fill it?  Then I decide that 
I need to go to sleep before I start to cry over my disastrous life.  I 
go to bed telling myself that I need to stop eating so damn much and 
start exercising.  I make a vow to work out in the morning, because 
when I get small and thin, then I will be beautiful and everyone will 
want to be around me and the hole in my soul will be completely filled. 


I once lost close to 60 pounds of weight.  I was working out every day
for 45 minutes to an hour, people were giving me compliments and I felt 
good about myself.  The hole was still not filled.  It still loomed in 
the darkness.  I would cheat on my diets/new eating plans.  I would 
have a cookie here and there, or have a time when all I ate was junk 
food.  The hole was still there.  It would not go away.  Then the 
weight hit a plateau and the hole was not filled.  It was still there.  
I couldn't take it.  I decided that I had to fill the so I began to eat 
again.  I never stopped.  The hole was not filled and everything began 
to crumble because of the hole.  He left me and broke my heart into a 
million billion little shattering pieces.  I cried for days in the 
darkness as I lay on the cold hard floor.  I went to the internet in 
search of something, anything to help me forget about the pain and the 
fact that the hole was getting bigger by the second.  I turned to the 
sexual favors that I had in the past to heal and fill.  The hole got 
bigger.  I couldn't make a decision about my life.  The end of the 
choice I had chosen before was coming to an end.  Since he left me I 
had no choice but to return to where I didn't want to be—HOME.   I 
hoped and prayed that coming back would fill the hole. My job made the 
hole bigger.  Everyday I went to work to help men that were like the 
bastard that had put the hole inside of me.   I was determined to hate 
it, but instead I loved it.  I still was searching the internet for 
sexual fulfillment and to completely fill the hole.  It was bigger now 
and needed more than before.  I alternated between different things—I 
ate, I exercised, I cried, I slept, I traveled, I surfed the internet, 
I read, I wrote short stories.  Nothing worked.  The hole was still 
there.  I left my job for something that would make me think less.   I 
thought I had found it.  I was wrong.  Now I was on the right side.  I 
was with my own kind.  The hole was still growing.  Then I went to a 
conference and I silently cried in the hallway because I couldn't 
contain the pain anymore.  I wrote the words that made the tears rush 
forth like a freak storm and the words washed over my soul like a 
soothing warm bath.  I began to feel peace.  I began to feel as if I 
was one with something in this universe.  Then I decided that I needed 
to write these words down to preserve my satisfaction and the fact that 
the hole was nearly whole. 

As my fingers feverishly flew over the laptop keyboard, I could feel my
anguish and sadness fly away.  I thought I had found the magic “thing” 
that I had been searching for all my life.  Then one morning I awoke 
and realized that the hole was still there.  I realized that no matter 
what words I wrote down, no matter what spilled forth from my fingers 
or my mouth, the hole was still there.  I wanted to turn to food to 
east the pain, but I was tired of it.  I wanted to turn to sex to fill 
the hole, but that too was tiring me out.  I didn't know what to do and 
I could feel the hole getting bigger and bigger.  I feared that it was 
coming to consume me and take me down with it.  I slept fitfully at 
night, tossing and turning, having devilish nightmares about my bed 
falling apart.  I had nightmares about everything I touched turning 
into dust and ashes at my feet.  I awoke covered in sweat and labored 
of breath.  I could not go on like this.  I had to do something.  What 
could I do?  Then it struck me!  I needed to own the hole within me.  I 
tell my clients all the time to own their pain and their suffering and 
their hurt so that it is theirs to control and no one is controlling 
them.  I reached inside of me and took a hold of the hole, aiming to 
tame it and make it a meek lamb at my side and no longer a ravenous 
lion.  I fought with the hole deciding to trick it and leash it the 
pole that was me. 

It was a courageous effort.  I am proud of myself.  Neither of us walked
away a winner nor a loser.  We agreed to part, rest and come again to 
do battle.  The hole is still inside of me and I still want to fill it, 
but I now know that food and sex are not the way.  I have to deal with 
everyday as it comes and everyday I must battle with the hole within 
me.  It is a battle, a war, a crusade that will rage the rest of my 
living life.  I am not a coward and neither is it.   We will strike 
blows and walk away bloodied and battered, but upon the next day, we 
will march upon the battle field that is my conscious and knock at each 
other again.  Stubborn are we and relentless too.  I do hope I win at 
least one battle before I leave this Earth. 

----Lucky Wilson 


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