True Life: I’m Addicted to Peanut Butter
I’ve been eating peanut butter pretty much every day for the past 4 months. When I start to run low, I make sure to hit the grocery before I run out. I’ll be heading home from work or errands, and my mind will jump to a spoonful of that creamy, nutty goodness (that sounds much creepier than I anticipated).
Four months ago, I got sober, something I hadn’t been for an extended period of time since high school, which would be close to 10 years. And so I had a gap to fill in how I spent my time, unwinded at the end of the day, indulged. And that hole has been filled with an obscene amount of ground peanuts (trying my best to avoid saying peanut butter a dozen times in this).
I even googled, “how much peanut butter can you eat before it’s bad for you?” Turns out a lot. So based on my limited internet research, it seems as long as I keep my habit to a few spoonfuls a day, I should be alright.
But then there’s another consideration — in getting sober, I’ve had to recognize addictive tendencies (like thinking about that first hit of peanut butter before I even leave work). So I’ve had to question if mentally/emotionally my peanut butter addiction is acceptable. And let me tell you, the amount of resentment and frustration I’ve confronted at the thought of cutting it out would make the average person question what designer drug “peanut butter” stood for.
But the thing is, I didn’t want to have to give up another thing. I’ve already gotten sober, goddammit! I’ve given up my dominant vices, and so I wanted to keep this one. Which I have.
In turn, I’ve had to recognize an unfair association in my mind between pleasure and guilt. Because for so often, the things I indulged in induced guilt for justifiable reasons: avoiding real life, responsibilities, growing up, being accountable.
But you know what, my peanut butter addiction isn’t hurting anybody.
I’m not avoiding the text or phone call that I know is going to ask me to do something I don’t want to do. It doesn’t cause me to stay up late fucking around or do something I’ll struggle to face in the morning. It won’t make me resentful of the people in my life who expect me to be a functioning person.
One thing I might be is slightly hungover. Because hitting peanut butter hard at one in the morning might not result in mental or emotional damage but my stomach will have something to say about it the next day. Usually lots of gurgling translated loosely to, “Whyyyyy?”
I don’t know what the journey with me and peanut butter will bring. Are we in it for the long haul? Will I find another savory, luscious spread to take its place? Only time will tell, but for now, I’m okay with my addiction. Because fuck, it’s the small things in life, right? And if this shit is getting me through the day a little happier and lighter then I’m not gonna question it too much.
Plus, I’m making up for all those unlucky folks with a peanut allergy, so it kind of makes me a good samaritan. Right??
For non-peanut butter ramblings, check out my page.
