The Many Faces of Numbing

Not everyone talks about it, but they should: addiction doesn’t always look like a bottle or a needle.

Sometimes, it looks like drive-thrus at midnight. 🌙
Like online carts full of things you can’t afford but need to feel something.
Like a glass (or a bottle) of wine to hush the noise in your head. 🍷
Like chasing anything that numbs the ache you can’t quite name.

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My First Spell: Food

For me, it started with food.

I didn’t just eat to survive—I ate to soothe. I was stressed, overwhelmed, under-supported, and constantly pushing down emotions with every bite. I ballooned to 330 pounds. But it wasn’t just about weight. It was about pain. And food was the soft place I landed when everything else felt sharp and unforgiving. 🍟💔

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Therapy and the Waiting Years

In 2016, I finally started therapy. But it took years—until 2022—to find a therapist who didn’t just listen, but saw me.

In the meantime, I did what I could to survive. I cast my coping spells with whatever ingredients I had.

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When Food Fell Away

When I got the gastric sleeve surgery, everything changed. My stomach was smaller. My ability to numb with food? Gone.

But the pain? Still there. Still whispering. Still haunting.

So, I started shopping.

And not just a little retail therapy here and there—I devoured dopamine in the form of tracking numbers and clearance tabs. 🛍️📦 The rush of “out for delivery” felt like magic. Until it wasn’t. Until the spell broke. I filed for bankruptcy in 2021/2022 and lost that wand, too.

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Enter: Wine

So I switched to wine.

That’s when my ex-husband started calling me an alcoholic. So I dropped the bottle and picked the fork back up. Gained weight again. Hated myself for it. Then I swapped it for shopping. Again.

Rinse. Repeat. 💀

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The Witch’s Lesson

That’s the thing about cross addiction—when you were never taught how to sit in the dark, you light a thousand wrong candles just to find one that fits.

But I’m learning.

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Softer Spells

I have a therapist I trust now.
I write instead of drink wine. ✍️
I chew ice instead of my own emotions. (No shame—I have a nugget ice machine in my bedroom like some kind of soft-core Hozier lyric. Bless the witches who find their comfort in crunching snowflakes. 🧊✨)

I’m still figuring it out. Still unlearning. Still whispering healing spells in my own language. Still finding ways to cope that don’t leave scars on my wallet, my body, or my soul.

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Becoming

But I’m doing it. 🖤

If you’ve ever felt like you’re playing emotional whack-a-mole with your coping mechanisms—just know you’re not broken. You’re becoming. You’re trying. And that matters.

Healing isn’t linear.
It’s messy.
It’s magical.
And it’s worth every step.