A life of Sane and Happy Usefulness

"'A life of sane and happy usefulness' is what we are promised as the result of working the Twelve Steps." - The Tools of Recovery, p. 6

"'Who would want that?' That was my reaction to reading this line for the first time. . . . I want a slim body and plenty of money, not service to others." - Voices of Recovery, p. 366

As Voices of Recovery says in today's post, we don't usually start off thinking about a spiritual solution to our problem.  We think of compulsive overeating as a physical problem, and we want a relief for the physical symptom.  But I know that having gained and lost the same 40-90 pounds over and over again over the last ten years that it isn't just physical.  Because while I'm happy to be skinnier, the same problems that drive me to binge eat are still there.  The fear and the insecurity don't melt away with the pounds, and that's what really is important.  The weight is a symptom, not a disease.

This time stepping into the doors of OA I think I want the sanity and happy usefulness as much, if not more, than I want the slender body.  I want to feel up to doing the things for my family that my mother did for hers.  I want to be that woman, not the one who is too selfish or too lazy to do anything and everything her children need.  So with gratitude I say: "yes please."

Old Timer's Prayer

I came across this prayer while reading a really neat blog my sponsor told me about - Mr. Sponsorpants

OLD TIMER'S PRAYER

Lord, keep me from the habit of thinking I must say something on every subject and on every occasion.

 

Release me from the craving to straighten out everybody's affairs.

 

Keep my mind free from the recital of endless details - give me wings to get to the point.

 

I ask for the grace to listen to the tales of others pains. Help me to endure them in patience.

 

But seal my lips on my own aches and pains - they are increasing and my love of rehearsing them is becoming sweeter as the years go by.

 

Teach me the glorious lesson that occasionally it is possible that I may be mistaken.

 

Keep me reasonably sweet. I do not want to be a saint - some of them are so hard to live with - but a sour old person is one of the crowning works of the devil.

 

Give me the ability to see good things in unexpected places and talents in unexpected people. And give me, O Lord, the grace to tell them so.

 

Make me thoughtful, but not moody; helpful, but not bossy. With my vast store of wisdom, it seems a pity not to use it all - but Thou knowest, Lord, that I want a few friends in the end.

The Serentiy Prayer

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and wisdom to know the difference.

This excerpt talks about applying the serenity prayer to every day problems.  In doing so, the exercise "brings serenity to my life and helps me feel God's presence." - Voices of Recovery, page 365.

I started doing this last week.  I know this is going to sound ridiculous, but I was dog-sitting for a friend.  As I was getting ready to go to sleep, I kept hearing the dogs licking their paws.  The sound was driving me crazy.  I tried yelling at the dogs, I tried distracting them.  I was about ready to put socks on the dogs to keep them from their paws.  But as I sat there, I remembered the serenity prayer.  So I repeated it to myself over and over again until I no longer felt like kicking the dogs outside [they are indoor dogs and it was cold].  I suddenly found I could ignore the licking and go to sleep.  What a relief.

Today when I was reading about the fourth step, I felt complete and utter panic.  The concept of sharing everything about myself with my sponsor was just horrifying.  But reading the serenity prayer I started to feel calmer.  I need to work the fourth step.  I can't change that, and I can't change the things I've done in the past.  I theoretically could run away and leave program, but I'm not willing to do that.  I am going to do whatever it takes to find recovery.  So here I am.  Worrying about the upcoming fourth step isn't going to do anything to help me today.  So I am letting it go.  I'm going to hand the fear and the worry over to my Higher Power, and I'm going to go to sleep. 

God's Messengers

"Sponsors, OA friends, meetings, and literature are wonerful sources of help for us.  We wouldn't want to be without any of these resources because we often find God speaks to us through them." - The Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions of Overeaters Anonymous, p. 98

"God speaks to me through other people, especially my sponsor, when I listen." - Voices of Recovery, p. 362

I laughed a bit when I read today's Voices of Recovery. This is my last step of program work before I go to bed.  I've done any journaling I am going to do.  Attended all meetings I'm going to attend.  Made all my calls.  Done all my readings.  And now, I read my Voices of Recovery, write a quick little response about it, and snuggle up for a night of peaceful rest [baby permitting].  Today, my journaling was on the way that the meeting and the readings today spoke to me about the very things which had been weighing on my mind the past day. 

The past weeks the Big Book study group I attend on Thursday nights has been talking about how to approach and speak to a person who is interested in the program.  At the time I remember thinking that I wouldn't need to read this chapter for a long time, thinking that I wished we were talking about something that actually applied to me and applied to me now.  But as usual, God knew best.  Yesterday I was in a position where I would need the exact passages that we read in the study meeting I attended.

All my life I kept asking and asking for God to give me faith.  For God to let me know the answer to this question or that.  I wonder how many times he was trying to answer, but I just wasn't listening.

God and the Willingness to be Willing

Today I sat in on a phone meeting that I normally would not have attended because I am going to be having [abstinent] dinner with family friends.  So it came as a surprise that the meeting topic was something that had been on my mind all day: the willingness to be willing.

To go back a step, I want to talk a bit about my abstinence.  I love my sponsor, and I love my program.  When I came into program this second time I wanted to be in the driver's seat.  I saw the program as a tool that I could use in building my own recovery.  But after 2 months of being abstinent with my own program and not seeing any improvement, I realized that I couldn't do this alone.

So I told myself I couldn't just wait for the right sponsor to drop into my lap.  I would pick up the first sponsor I could and just run with it until I found my perfect sponsor.  The very next meeting I attended, my sponsor's close friend was the speaker.  I listened to his story and thought he was really wonderful.  He had so many good, helpful things to share.  And my sponsor, who was present to support her friend, stood up to identify herself as a person who sponsors.  It was perfect timing.  The best way to describe it is that I got good vibes from her.  She was lovely, slender, older than me (but not by much), and I just had a natural inclination to like her (and have since discovered that she is warm, loving, supportive, and funny as well - I hit sponsor gold).  My gut instinct said "yes please."  So I approached her at the break and she started to tell me a bit about her program, promising to go over it the next day with me on the phone.

When I heard just how strict my abstinence program would be, my first thought was complete and utter horror.  I didn't want to hand over control!  I wanted someone who I would be accountable to, not someone who wanted to run the show!  I wasn't ready for this, and my husband wasn't ready for the craziness to start right before our vacation.  So I put it off until we got back.

Knowing I'd be starting fresh at day 1 as a beginner, I went on that vacation and thought "what the hell, screw my abstinence.  I don't get credit for it anyway!" (Because, of course, abstinence only counts if someone is watching. . .)  And I went wild.  It was the last hurrah of last hurrahs.  I ate myself silly and managed to gain nearly ten pounds that week.  By the time I got back, I was finally defeated.  I'd been miserable letting my disease drive, and I didn't know how I could stop!  I needed help and I was finally ready to surrender.  The phrase "willing to go to any length" suddenly had real meaning for me: I would do anything to not live in the state of compulsive overeating torture one more day.

It turns out that my sponsor is exactly what I needed.  I discovered that surrendering my food to her was the only way I would find sanity.  My sponsor arrived in my life at the exact moment I needed her, in the exact manner I needed her to, and with the exact program I needed.  It was thinking about her that I was able to make the connection to God.  I'd always had a notion that a God was out there, but I'd never felt he took any particular interest in individuals.  But realizing the serendipity of meeting my sponsor, I suddenly knew that God had put her there for me to find.  He'd heard my prayer and he'd answered it just when I needed it most.  He knew what and when and how - and He made it happen just right.

Well fast forward through seventeen blissful abstinent days living on the pink cloud and I am speaking to a beloved family friend.  She is desperate to return to program, and she told me how she needs a sponsor.  Well, she asked me about my program, so I told her what my days are like.  Immediately she began to go through the same objections that rose to my mind: she didn't want to hand over the steering wheel.  She wanted to be driving her own recovery.  But that wasn't true - she wanted to have a reasonable abstinence, just a different one from my own.

So when I left her house I made a call to my sponsor and my three outreach people, leaving a message to ask them to keep an eye out for a sponsor with the characteristics my friend was looking for.  Even if she never picks up the phone or doesn't pick up the phone to call the people I find for her any time in the next X number of months or years, I'll have done my best to help her find the help she wants.  I also gave her the information on how to find online and phone meetings [since she is often too depressed to leave the house].

But the first thought that went through my head was that she was not willing to go to any lengths for her recovery.  She wasn't willing to be willing.  And this thought has been stewing with me ever since.  Just like no two people are the same, no two recoveries are either.  So who am I to doubt her.  Maybe she is ready, she just needs something different than I do.  There is nothing wrong with that.  There is no one right answer.  As yesterday's Voices of Recovery pointed out, the problem is within.  No one has the answers, they don't even know the question.

I am far too ready to look into other people's lives and other people's recoveries and think about what it is they should be doing.  But I am not in charge of their lives or their recoveries.  That's God's job, not mine.  There was a great quote from my Thursday night meeting:  "The only thing I need to know about God is I'm not Him."

So while I'm thinking that she isn't willing to surrender, that her ego is going to get in the way unless she finds that willingness - I realized that I am showing that same ego I was internally accusing her of displaying.  Here I stand with my whopping seventeen days of abstinence feeling so high and mighty and proud of myself.  Like I have all the answers and have found the cure.  In reality, I should be the one eating humble pie!

Listening to the readings in that meeting tonight, as well as the shares, helped me realize what was bothering me about the situation with my friend.  It wasn't that there was anything wrong with her, it was that there was something wrong with me.  I thought I was doing good by trying to be of service to her - helping her locate a potential sponsor and find meetings.  Being supportive of her and explaining that there are many ways of finding abstinence, not just my own.  But deep down I was being prideful.  It was my pride that was making the gesture feel hollow, not the doubts about her ability or willingness to accept the help.  My sponsor assigned supplemental readings to deal with my issues with my in-laws, but it applied to this problem as well.

What keeps striking me is the random luck of my meetings.  It always seems like these meetings cover exactly the subjects I am needing that day.  It just makes me realize that God is talking to me, I just need to stop talking and listen.

I realized that I'm willing to let God run the show in my own recovery, but I need to be willing to be willing to let God do the rest of his job.  Because if I can't manage my own life, I have no business managing anyone elses life either!

Chapter 1: Bill's Story - Summary

Bill's drinking career began when he went off to war as a young officer in World War I.  He was a part of the world and he drank socially as a celebration of life.  But his drinking spilled over into those times when he was feeling lonely. 

When he returned from war, he felt like the world was his oyster.  He was a leader and he would go out and prove to the world that he was someone.  He began a law program, but his drinking got in the way.  He nearly failed his law course, and was too drunk at one of his finals to think or write.  His wife was concerned but he assured her that all the great minds had their inspiration while drunk.  By the time he completed his law course, he realized that the law was not for him.

While in school, he worked for a surety company that introduced him to Wall Street.  He was drawn to the markets and began to save money with his wife to invest in some securities.  He achieved success but was unable to find a job.  So he went on a road trip with his wife to do research on various markets.  The reports he made landed him a position on Wall Street and he began to know great success.  He had arrived.

During his rise in wealth he made a number of fair weather friends.  But over time his drinking began to grow more serious, continuing all day and almost every night.  Fights broke out between him and his friends and he became a lone wolf.  His marriage grew strained under the pressure of the drinking.

In 1929, he began to golf.  He went to the country with his wife to conquer the game, but the game ended up conquering him.  The sport permitted him to drink constantly.  He spent money hand over fist during that time until one day he learned that the stock market had crashed.  He was finished financially.  While others despaired, he went to the bar and got good and drunk.

He made a call to a friend in Montreal and moved to Canada with his wife to await the market's return.  But his drinking caught up to him and his friend soon kicked them out.  They were forced to move in with his wife's parents.  Although Bill found a job, he soon lost it while brawling with a taxi driver.  He was unemployed the next five years and hardly sober during that time.  His wife began to work in a department store only to come home exhausted to find her husband drunk.

Liquor was no longer a luxury but a necessity.  He would try to work deals, but all the money went straight to paying his bar tabs.  He still thought he could get under control and there were periods of sobriety that gave his wife hope.  But gradually things got worse.  His mother-in-law died, his father-in-law became ill, and the house was taken over by the mortgage holder.  He got a promising business opportunity, but he went on a bender and lost the chance.

He woke up determined to be sober, and in spite of having meant it he was drunk shortly thereafter.  He renewed his resolve and tried again.  This time he was able to stay sober a bit longer and confidence turned into cockiness and he once again found himself drunk.  He started to think of suicide and feel he was hopeless.  He drank to obtain oblivion over his hopelessness at being an alcoholic.  One night he was so bad he had to drag his mattress downstairs for fear he'd jump.

A doctor came and gave him a sedative to help, but he soon found himself drinking both gin and sedative.  His family put him in a well known treatment center and he began to improve.  He learned about alcoholism and the difficulties that alcoholics have with control, in spite of having control in other areas of their lives.  And he thought this self-knowledge was the solution - but it wasn't.  He was soon drunk again. 

After a time he returned to the hospital and was told that either he would die or be forced to go to the asylum.  It was a devastating blow to his ego.  He thought of his poor wife, wishing he could make amends, but that was over.  He sunk into a quicksand of self-pity.  He had met his match.  Alcohol was his master.  He had been overwhelmed.

Trembling, he left the hospital.  Fear kept him sober for a bit, but the fateful day came when alcohol won out once more.  Everyone became resigned to the certainty that he would either need to be locked up or he would die.  But little did he know this was the beginning of his last binge.

One day as he was pondering hiding a bottle of gin next to the bed to make it through the night, the phone rang.  It was an old drinking buddy who wanted to meet up for lunch.  Bill was excited because he would have someone with whom he could drink and recount better days.  But when the friend arrived, Bill discovered that he no longer was a drinker.

The friend explained that he had found religion.  He explained that he was approached by two men who had persuaded a judge to suspend commitment to an asylum on the basis that they had a simple spiritual program that might work to help him.  And two months later the friend was sober, and was coming to pass on the word to Bill.  He talked for hours and Bill struggled with his qualms with religion.  While Bill was not an atheist, he had a strong antipathy for organized religion. 

But Bill listened as his friend declared that God had done for him what he could not do for himself.  His human will had failed, and then God had in effect raised him from the dead.  Bill realized that here sat a miracle in front of him, but he still felt anitpathy at the word God.  But then the friend said the magic words that helped Bill reconcile his issues with religion with his desire to recover:  "Why don't you choose your own conception of God?"  And Bill stood in sunlight at last.  "It was only a matter of being willing to believe in a Power greater than myself.  Nothing more was required of me to make my beginning."

Bill realized that he wanted God, and that was enough for God to arrive into his life.  He went to the hospital to dry up and offered himself to God.  He did not drink again for the rest of his life.  He worked the step with his friend, and he discovered a sense of peace and serenity as he had never known. 

It was then that Bill realized there were thousands of alcoholics who might be glad to have what was so freely given to him.  He decided to work with them, so that they could in turn work with others.  After all, faith without works was dead.  Bill and his wife abandoned themselves to the idea of helping other alcoholics to a solution of their problems. 

The first year and a half Bill's old business associates remained skeptical and he found little work.  Occasionally the despair would nearly drive him back to drink, but he would go instead to work with other alcoholics.  On talking to men at the hospital he would be lifted up and set on his feet.  A fellowship developed and he was able to watching the fledgling Alcoholics Anonymous grow. 

"Most of us feel we need look no further for Utopia.  We have it with us right here and now.  Each day my friend's simple talk in our kitchen multiplies itself in a widening circle of peace on earth and good will to men." - p. 16

The Question

". . . I would if I could, my friend, but - as it is for me - the problem is within. . ." - For Today, p. 277

"It seems that for most of my life I have been searching for the answer book.  In school, there was always one definitive answer, and the teacher had all the answers.  Unfortunately, in life there is no one right or wrong way to do something.  There are no answer books. . . No one has my answers; they don't even know what the question is.  I believe that all my answers are within me. . . . What I have been looking for is not the answer, but the question." - Voices of Recovery, p. 363

There are so many people who keep looking for a magic bullet - some diet or pill or program that's going to make them thin and keep them thin.  But as I've heard in program, the weight is a symptom of the disease, not the disease itself.  Yet my mom - among others - looks at my weight as being an indicator of whether I'm getting healthier.  Physically that may be the case, but mentally I am afraid that is not the truth.  I've lost and regained the same 40-90 pounds at least 5 times in the last 9 years.  That's a problem.  So I can lose all the weight I want these next months, but I'm not going to keep it off unless I find the answer to the question.  And to find the answer, I need a question first. 

That isn't to say I don't have plenty of questions.  What makes me want to compulsively eat?  Why do I compulsively eat?  What triggers my eating?  What is the best means of alleviating my compulsion to eat?  But what is the question that is going to help me progress? Which question is the one that I need answered before the craziness can abate?

I think I look to the Big Book to give me the magic answer.  The blueprint of how to fix whatever is wrong with me.  But reading that book isn't going to give me my answers.  The more I read, the more I hear about working the steps.  I go to meetings and hear "faith without works is dead" - and I nod.  But reading this passage, I realized I still am looking for my magic fix.  I still want this program to give me the answers.  Tell me how to get better. 

I purchased a Overeater Anonymous Workbook this week, and I looked at a few of the lists and promptly shut the book.  I told myself - I'll work on that when my sponsor tells me to.  But I want to get better.  I want to work toward a better life.  For now I'm going to listen to instructions and follow them - but I know the day is coming when I'm going to need help. . . "The difficulty lies in looking within, something I'm incapable of doing alone.  I need the love, help, and support from others." - Voices of Recovery, p. 363.

Anonymity

"It is essential that all of us understand and respect anonymity if OA is to survive and we are to find recovery here." - The Twelve steps and Twelve Traditions of Overeaters Anonymous, p. 199

Among the "rules" of OA is that we maintain anonymity at the level of press, radio, films, and television.  It also means that "I don't place myself above or below anyone else.  It reminds me that we are all equal.  It tells me that my job is of no importance.  What counts is that we are both compulsive overeaters trying to recover through the Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions of Overeaters Anonymous." - Voices of Recovery, p. 362

When I first came into OA, I just nodded and passed on the issue of anonymity.  I figured, "well, it may be embarrasing for people to be in these meetings, so promising anonymity is a good way of letting people join in."  But the concept of maintaining anonymity in the media boggled my mind.  I understood that we could not promote OA, or be spokespeople for OA because this is a fellowship that has no leaders, only people who are serving. 

Recently I had been thinking about my grandsponsor.  He lost over 350 pounds, and has kept that weight off for at least 3 years I know of, by eating what amounts to El Pollo Loco twice a day every single day.  He is a handsome man, tall and slender.  It occurred to me that if he went to El Pollo Loco, he could very easily become their Jared the Subway Guy.  The press would eat it up!  He could make huge amounts of money as a spokesperson for the restaurant!  Why doesn't he?

And then I thought about it further.  Say he does go through with it.  Say he becomes the spokesperson for El Pollo Loco.  When the details of his recovery come out under the media attention, it will become apparent that he is a member of OA.  This will drag OA into the media.  While this will help other sufferers discover the fellowship, it also will bring in a lot of people looking for a quick fix.  Meetings would be flooded, including by people from the media.  It could disrupt other people's recovery.  But much worse on a personal level - my grandsponsor would become a poster boy for OA.  This would place him above other compulsive overeaters in the program.

My grandsponsor has his own sponsor.  He is working this program one day at a time just like everyone else.  Were he to go on and "out himself" to the media, he suddenly would be placing himself above the other OA people. This would make it difficult if not impossible for him to continue working his program.  The need for anonymity isn't just to protect the program, and those who feel uncomfortable with others knowing of their participation.  It also protects the person who is seeking the spotlight.

A REALLY Bad Day

Today was a major BAD day.  It really reminded me why I need to be in OA, because today the disease brought on the serious crazy. 

 

I slept later than I wanted to, which meant I didn't have time to get work done. Which isn't the end of the world - I can do it tomorrow - but it means I can't start researching tomorrow. Then we went to lunch and ate at the restaurant, which meant I had to split my food and not have it as my salad. Again, not the end of the world. We came home and put the baby down for a nap, but he only slept for half an hour because he pooped. So we had a cranky and grumpy baby the rest of the evening while we tried to go grocery shopping.

We went first to order his birthday cake. The woman apparently was a perfectionist, because she rewrote the order on 4 slips before it was "right". All the while I am staring at the bakery display. And this isn't your usual grocery store bakery display. There are a TON of cookies, mini-cakes, little tuxedo strawberries with dark chocolate buttons, and all sorts of cookies I have no idea what the names are but that look HEAVENLY. And I'm trying to order a cake that my husband says, "are you really not going to eat his cake?" - "No sweetheart, I'm not" - "Not either day?" - "No, not either day" - "But what about the other candy, are you really not going to eat that either?" - "No, my love, I'm not eating any of that stuff." - "But they make Lebanese food for Christmas, you love that! Are you going to be ok?" - and at this stage I wanted an ice pick so I could start stabbing him repeatedly with it. My poor husband was oblivious to the fact that this was going to upset me.

The baby is fussing so we grabbed a few of the items at Gelsons - although they didn't have the seasoning - they didn't even have a Latin food section! - and then I was looking at their chicken display and it was obscene how much they were charging. And I started getting that claustrophobic feeling, and my husband is standing WAY in my space bubble the whole time. This meant that while I'm trying to read labels and find things, I have a baby smacking me in the face and pulling my hair and him breathing down my neck nagging me to just grab corn tortillas. I'm trying to make sure there isn't any sugar in them - and he wants to go.

I just wanted to SCREAM! We go order dinner because I am now starving and everywhere I look there is junk food, it seems. So we go get the next meal, even though I haven't even gotten to finish my salad yet [I turned what was left from lunch into a salad]. We bring it home and the baby goes to bed. Now I am just frazzled and while I was ok with the little things going wrong, when I take a sip of my supposedly light lemonade and it is regular I about broke down and cried.

I tried to stay calm, so I put down the lemonade and went in and got a diet Lipton green tea. I would drink that instead. Problem solved. So I made my salad while my husband put the baby down to sleep and proceeded to mix my lunch remainders in with the dinner. Good - now it is all together and I can work on my food.

I sit down and locate the next phone meeting - it was set to start in 6 minutes. Perfect. I am listening to an amazing speaker and loving my meeting. And then I start getting booted from the call. Of course, being already in crazy mode, I start to take this personally. I was booted around nine times before I finally got in and was able to stay in. I don't know what was wrong? I was on mute, so it wasn't like I was doing anything special. I mute the line on their side AND I mute my side as well just to be safe! So now my great meeting is now ruined for me because I am feeling like I was getting picked on. Oh, and I was terrified that the leader was my boss because he sounded just like him and had the same name. Thankfully it wasn't him, but I spent a good chunk of that meeting not sure if I should slink out and wait for the next phone session.

 

I was sad that my meeting didn't lift me up like usual. So I picked up the phone and made my outreach calls. All answering machines. I even called a few people from my We Care Phone List - same thing. I gave up on the calls and told myself that I was being irrational, and that I was responsible for my mood. I should be proud of myself for following my instructions and staying on plan. But I wasn't.

 

I realize I was being vile to my husband and snapping at him at the grocery store. So I apologize. The baby wakes up from his evening nap and we get bundled up to walk him around the neighborhood to look at Christmas lights while he drinks a bottle. My husband starts complaining about how this one thing hurts - and I get so annoyed because he whines and complains about aches and pains all the time. If he has the sniffles it is like the world has come to an end and he tells me "I feel sick" in misery every ten minutes. Except that I've listened to these whines and complaints for two years every single day.

So I am biting my cheek to keep my mouth shut. I have tried to get him into the doctor, but he just says "oh, this doctor at a walk in place didn't help me when I told him I hurt my shoulder" so he won't go see a doctor who specializes in the types of injuries he has. Meanwhile the fact that I have torn cartilage in both my knees, arthritis in my hands and feet, two blown discs in my back, and adhesions in my abdomen that all cause me pain on a daily basis rises up to the front of my thoughts. And you know what I don't do? Complain to him about them. He knows I have these problems but he'll forget unless they're really bad - why? Because I keep it to myself. And it isn't a martyrdom issue. I simply don't see the point in harping on it when there's nothing to be done about it.

 

So I get home with knees that feel like there's broken glass inside of them, my abdomen feeling like someone is repeatedly stabbing me, and listening to him whine about an ache in his shoulder. The baby has had the bottle and the dogs are now pleased that they've had their walk. The baby goes up to bed and we proceed to watch television.

I make my evening oatmeal and it isn't the kind of oats I like. I tried this rolled oats thing that doesn't really gel together into oatmeal. It's more like having Smacks cereal without the sugar/flavor. In water. And then my husband makes himself a few slices of sourdough toast. And when I give it a longing look he then takes a big bite and goes "mmmm it's delicious" - and proceeds to tell me it is revenge for me being snippy in the grocery store. I was within a millimeter of punching him in the face. And when he sees I am genuinely upset, he says "I was just teasing you, what's wrong?" Like he even needs to ask.

And then, he proceeds to talk through the whole TV show. He knows that is like nails on chalk board for me. Most nights I pause and stare at him, so he eventually gets the point and stops. But tonight I was just not able to be calm about it. I knew if I paused I would yell at him, and I didn't want to yell at him.  So I sit and I stew.  I drank water because I wanted to eat that sourdough bread so desperately.  So of course I had to pee constantly.

 

Then we are going to get ready for bed and he starts up one of our repeating fights.  The problem is that he is epileptic and can't remember a lot of what happened while I was pregnant.  So he starts going off on how the baby made him sick.  And I remind him that his insistence on not taking his medicine - against his doctor's instructions - is why he got so sick.  And he argued with me that the doctor didn't go against it.  And I just stared at him like he'd gone mad. 

 

Then he got angry at me because I didn't agree with him.  I am actually able to give him written proof of the doctor's instructions, but he is getting mad at me because I won't tell him what he wants to hear.  But I am not going to let him say that our child is the reason he is so sick when he did it to himself!  Because I know him.  If he gets it into his mind that he is sick because of the baby I'm going to hear nonstop about how my having the baby ruined his life.  I was just floored.  But I stopped myself and didn't scream.  I didn't yell.  I just agreed to not have the conversation since he was getting angry.

 

And he wanted to get a hug and kiss goodnight before I went downstairs to do my Big Book report to my sponsor.  I gave him a stiff hug and kiss and went downstairs feeling livid.  Because today I do not have my cool.  And even now I know it's nearly three in the morning, my baby is going to wake me up in two hours, and I'm too angry to sleep.

 

But on the positive side - I'm feeling my feelings, and I stayed on program.  I attended my meeting.  I made my outreach calls.  And when I finish this journal post, I'm going to write to my sponsor and summarize my five pages.  Hopefully tomorrow will be better.

Inertia And Burst

The past few days I had been feeling a lot of inertia, with today being my random burst of energy and purpose.  That seems to be my pattern of late.  I spend my days in this bone-deep and crippling sensation that I am moving through water.  Even the simplest task seems astronomically daunting.  Driving to pick up my abstinent meal seems to be a nightmare.  Before starting with this abstinence there were days I simply wouldn't eat until my husband got home from work because I simply couldn't get up the energy to order pizza. 

I cared for my son, but I prayed and prayed for him to nap, and keep napping.  I called my mother to try and visit her so she could chase him and play with him between nap times. 

Today I got a lot of work done and got my Christmas cards out, which is wonderful.  But now I don't want to go to bed because I am dreading tomorrow and the return of the weight.  On those dragging days I feel like I weigh a few thousand pounds.  And I feel beyond old - I feel ancient. 

I'm going to go catch some sleep - after all the baby will wake up long before I'm ready - but I wanted to at least write a little bit.

Preface - xxx-xxxii

The Doctor's Opinion

"These men were not [eating] to escape; they were [eating] to overcome a craving beyond their mental control." - pg. xxx

A lot of people associate binge eating with emotional comforting.  But I found, especially when the cravings were hitting me bad, that it didn't seem to be any particularly emotional or stressful time that was causing me to eat.  This was not the "I just got dumped" ice cream binge.  I tried to find justifications for the eating - I worked hard today so this is my reward, or I didn't get a lot of sleep so I'm eating to make up for being so tired, or I'm eating because I'm bored.  But the reality often was that I was eating because I constantly was thinking about food.  It had nothing to do with what was going on around me, but everything to do with the fact that I woke up thinking about food and spent the whole day fantasizing about what I was going to eat.  Then when it came time to eat I couldn't pick what I was going to eat so I ate it all.  Sometimes I ate to spite my parents, or to reward myself.  Often I ate even when I didn't want to because I just couldn't seem to stop myself!

"There is the type of man who is unwilling to admit that he cannot take a drink.  He plans various ways of drinking.  He changes his brand or his environment." - pg. xxx

I think for a while this was me.  I used to say I didn't have an eating problem - I just needed to try a different diet.  Once I got on the right diet I would stick to it and I would lose the weight and there wouldn't be a problem because if I gained a few pounds I'd just hop right back on.  But that's just not the case.

"There is the type who always believes that after being entirely free from [compulsive eating] for a period of time he can take a [bite] without danger." - pg. xxx

This was me after my first stint with OA.  I remember that after having had my son, I thought I was fine. I was losing weight while nursing and instead of thinking about food all day I was thinking about my baby and about how badly I wanted to sleep.  I thought I was cured!  Whatever chemical defect caused the binging was clearly fixed now that my body had "reset itself" with the pregnancy and I could live the life of a normal person again.  Yeah right. 

"Then there are types entirely normal in every respect except in the effect [food] has upon them. They are often able, intelligent, friendly people." - pg. xxx

This is probably me now.  I understand I have a problem.  I understand that I need to stay away from compulsive eating behaviors - I just can't do it alone.

"This phenomenon, as we have suggested, may be the manifestation of an allergy which differentiates these people, and sets them apart as a distinct entity.  It has never been, by any treatment with which we are familiar, permanently eradicated.  The only relief we have to suggest is entire abstinence." - pg. xxx

This is the cruel joke of food addictions.  You can live without alcohol.  You can live without nicotine.  You can live without heroine or cocaine or meth.  But you can't live without food.  I once thought I would be fine if they could just feed me through an IV. That would be perfect, or so I thought.  I'd never have to worry about what I ate and I would always get the exact nutrition I needed.  Except that isn't going to work.  Abstinence in OA terms is such a varying concept from person to person.  I heard a speaker say that their abstinence is reporting their food truthfully in an email to their sponsor.  Another person has a list of items he cannot eat.  My abstinence now involves eating a specific meal plan every single day.  There is no one "entire abstinence" that we can sign on for and be fixed.  All we can do is try our best to pick our sponsor and pick our abstinence and hope it makes a difference for us.

"He had lost everything worthwhile in life and was only living, one might say, to [eat]." - pg. xxxi

I found that when I was heaviest into the food I would isolate myself from the world.  I wouldn't talk to people, I wouldn't accept invites to events.  I would get food and sit in my room eating all day long.  I'd play video games or read books and try to shut out the world.  I wouldn't get dressed most days, and often would not even shower because then I'd have to see myself out of my baggy sleep shirt.  If I didn't see myself getting fatter, then there wasn't a problem.  I was an ostrich with my head in the sand, and my day involved eating and those things I had to do between meals.

"From a trembling, despairing, nervous wreck, had emerged a man brimming over with self-reliance and contentment." - pg. xxxi

This is the hope.  I am still that trembling, despairing, nervous wreck.  I am so anxious about my body and my weight and my food and my abstinence that I am a complete mess.  I want to be that self-reliant and content person.  I keep hoping and hoping that I will get there.

Resentment

I attended a phone meeting today* that was discussing resentment.  There is a quote that I love that I heard in one of my face to face meetings:  "resentment is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die."

I really resent my in-laws.  I am able to get along with most people and look away when people wrong me, but I can't stand these people.  I was fine with them until I had my son, and now I hate that I need to share him with these people.  Part of it is that they were raised [and raised their son] in a way that is very different from how I want to raise my child. 

My mother-in-law is a passive aggressive nightmare who second guesses everything I say.  She has given my lactose-intolerant child ice cream and told me that the doctors can't tell if a child has a problem with milk at this age.  Well, I was the one dealing with the rashes and the diaper-consequences of that little gift.  She will wake the baby and/or opt not to put the baby down at nap time if it suits her mood.  She will opt not to feed the baby because it's a hassle.  She will decide she doesn't want to change his diaper and instead of telling us he made a mess, will simply hold a stinky baby so she doesn't have to stop playing with him - and then leaves us to deal with the attendant diaper rash.  And if I try to tell her that the baby is sleeping, she rolls her eyes at me.  It is like dealing with a 13 year old child, not a grown woman.  And while she is snippy and nasty to me, she behaves like a saint to my husband, so he doesn't understand why I get upset with her.

My father-in-law likes to harass me on a daily basis to tell me how my husband and I should live our lives.  He wants my husband to quit his job [he is the primary income since I work part time to take care of the baby] and fiddle around with an unpaying, no benefits, lab project he has thought up - which experts in the field have already said will not work.  But my father-in-law won't let it go.  He believes this idea will make us rich. . . but my husband doesn't want to quit his job to prove to his father that this idea is a dead end [like the people he's approached have already told him].  And he calls me to tell me how to run my business.  And how to manage my life.  I don't like being told what to do, and all my polite attempts to tell him to mind his own business [and my less than polite attempts] have met a wall.  I have had my husband approach him to no avail.  My father-in-law believes he knows best, and says he is just "offering advice".  I have taken the tactic of refusing to answer his phone calls, instead calling my husband at work and instructing him to call his father back to find out what he wants.  Once more, he is much worse about this when he has me alone than when he is around my husband.

And they always tell us they want to help - but are angry if we don't give them a week of notice.  Unfortunately, we don't usually know we're going to need help until the day of - and a day or two in advance if we're lucky.  But when they want to see their grandchild, they call the day of and are put out and angry when we can't oblige them.  Then, when we try to call and schedule visits with my son, they have odd excuses.  Like - we can't come see the baby on Sunday because we are painting the hall on that day.  They have no deadline on painting the hall - they can do it before or after a visit - but they decide that they have something to do so my son takes second fiddle.  But when we have something to do, how dare we deny them access to their grandchild.  It just is a lack of courtesy that drives me crazy. 

I tell my husband that no matter how much I love him - and I do - his parents would have been a deal breaker had I gotten to know them better before the wedding. 

But it isn't just when they are actively doing something wrong that I feel this outrage.  I can't let it go.  It just gnaws at me and gnaws at me all day.  I hate that I'm trapped with these people and I find myself saying that they will die one of these days.  I look forward to the day when they die and stop plaguing me.  The rational part of my mind says I need to learn to cope with them because they are part of my life, but I just don't know how.  I plead with my husband not to die, because I don't know how I would maintain a relationship between my son and his grandparents if I didn't have my husband there to prod me into seeing them.  I want my son to have the best in life, and taking away two of his grandparents is not in that plan.

So tonight I'm going to stop praying for them to go away and start praying for God to relieve me of my resentment of my in-laws.  Someone mentioned in the call that anger is the luxury of the normal man - something the addict cannot afford.  I can't afford to keep harboring this anger at my in-laws.  I need to let it go.  So if anyone is reading this, any prayers you might want to offer up on my behalf that I let go of the resentment would be appreciated!

*For those who don't know, you can find phone and online meetings at The OA Website - these are a lifesaver since I can't always get out of the house to an in person meeting.

Preface xxix

The Doctor's Opinion

"After they have succumbed to the desire again, as so many do, and the phenomenon of craving develops, they pass through the well-known stages of a spree, emerging remorseful with a firm resolution not to drink again.  This is repeated over and over, and unless this person can experience an entire psychic change there is very little hope of his recovery."  - xxix

I think every compulsive overeater [really, every addict] knows this story far to intimately for comfort.  It is almost painful to read and remember the gut wrenching despair and shame after the binge.  And the worst part is the knowledge, the certainty, that in spite of the most fervently meant resolutions lurks the knowledge that I can't win.  I know one day, far sooner than I could ever anticipate, the process will start over again. 

When I have candy in the house, or when there is food in front of me, I desperately begin the binge.  It becomes a certainty that I will enter the spree, so I seek to eat all the food so I won't be tempted to eat the food.  It is insanity, and it is backwards logic, but I can never seem to help myself.  I struggle and struggle but once that food is in the house it torments me.  All I can think about is the food, whatever it is. . . Halloween candy, cookies, bagels, muffins, chips, even rice cakes - I can't sleep because I am thinking about them.  I worry about them all night because I'm afraid I'm going to binge on them.  Hence - I eat them to relieve myself of the torment.  It is torture, but I can't help myself.  And I live with others, so I can't keep the foods out of my home.  And I can't always resist the urge to purchase additional things at the store.

". . . once a psychic change has occurred, the very same person who seemed doomed, who had so many problems he despaired of ever solving them, suddenly finds himself easily able to control his desire for [food], the only effort necessary being that required to follow a few simple rules." - xxix

This seems like a dream to me.  It is such a foreign concept that I almost am too afraid to believe it is real because I am too afraid to get my hopes up.  But I pray for this every single night, and at every single meeting.

"Although he gives all that is in him, it often is not enough.  One feels that something more than human power is needed to produce the essential psychic change."  - xxix

Yes, yes, a thousand times yes.  I am a professional woman.  I am a mother and a wife.  I have a family I care for and a job and home I manage and care for.  I have overcome adversity, and I am diligent and tenacious.  No matter how many times life knocks me down or how many obstacles are thrown in my way, I keep getting up and marching on.

But in spite of every ounce of struggle and fight and determination I have in me, I can't beat this.  I need something more.  I  can't say I am comfortable with a higher power yet.  I have an often conflicted relationship with God.  But right now I'm content for the OA group to be my higher power.  They are the ones I am responsible to.  And my sponsor is the one who I listen to for permission and instructions.  I am giving her the power, because I clearly can't manage my life in this regard in spite of all my best efforts.  I will need to develop a better relationship with my higher power over time, but for now, this will have to be enough.

Preface xxviii

The Doctor's Opinion

"We believe, and so suggested a few years ago, that the action of [food] on these [compulsive overeaters] is a manifestation of an allergy; that the phenomenon of craving is limited to this class and never occurs in the average temperate drinker."  - xxviii

There hasn't been any indication of an "allergy" response, but as I mentioned previously there is a definite difference between compulsive overeaters and the normal population in terms of brain response to food.  I mentioned to my sponsor tonight that this mechanism is why I always had a hard time relating to other people who tried to help me.  It just seemed like the dieticians, nutritionists, doctors, trainers, food counselors at diet locations, family and friends - everyone tried telling me about some magic trick that would help me overcome this problem.  They all made it sound like it was sooo easy to just follow a diet and lose the weight.  Whenever I try to talk to my mom about it she talks about her own struggles with food - but even then it isn't the same.  She says how it is hard to say no to sweets, but she doesn't have the same cravings.  And if she does have them, clearly the fact that she can say no indicates it isn't as bad as what I experience.

I was on vacation last week.  My husband and I passed a Coldstone and I thought "wow, that sounds amazing" and then we went in to buy the ice cream.  As we waited, I thought "you know, I really don't want this - it's just going to give me a stomach ache."  But I bought the ice cream anyway.  Then I ate the ice cream and every bite I thought "I really don't want this" - but I couldn't put the ice cream down.  I felt powerless to stop myself from going through the motion of eating that desert.  And it was stupid, but I really felt unable to stop.  It was a compulsion to keep going.  And it wasn't that I didn't want to waste the ice cream, either. 

How can someone who doesn't have that type of response understand what I go through on a day to day basis with food?

"These allergic types can never safely [eat] in any form at all; and once having formed the habit and found they cannot break it, once having lost their self-confidence, their reliance upon things human, their problems pile up on them and become astonishingly difficult to solve."  - xxviii

The alcoholic can simply stop eating, but the food addict doesn't have that luxury. So we enter the danger zone every time we hit a meal time.  I hear all the time in meetings about how things get tough when people are "in the food" - how the world goes crazy.  I can't say it goes crazy per se, but I do know that I feel absolute desperation when that point hits me.  It is this sense of defeat that is absolutely awful.  And the lack of self-confidence is a very true point.  It always seems when my eating and weight are out of control - and I have tried to control it and tried and tried - I feel like I doubt myself in everything and everywhere.  And suddenly I am just crippled by the hopelessness.

"Frothy emotional appeal seldom suffices.  The message which can interest and hold these [compulsive overeaters] must have depth and weight." - xxviii

My dad loves to tell me how I need to lose weight because he doesn't want to have to raise my son for me.  I know I need to get my eating under control.  I know this disease can be deadly.  I don't want to die.  I don't want to miss out on my son's life.  But that doesn't mean that this is going to help me.  If it was a simple matter of willpower, I'd have kicked this thing years ago.  It isn't.  But all of these reasons are what has gotten me through the door at OA, and they are the reason I will go to any lengths for recovery.

"Men and women [overeat] essentially because they like the effect produced by [food].  The sensation is so elusive that, while they admit it is injurious, they cannot after a time differentiate the true from the false.  To them, their [compulsive overeating] life seems the only normal one." - xxviii

I honestly don't know how other people can eat "normally." I don't think I eat more than other people.  It doesn't seem like I am doing anything that other people aren't doing.  But somehow I'm still obese.  I still eat things I shouldn't.  And I lie to myself about what I'm eating and how much I'm eating.  The process of stuffing myself becomes so unbelievably automatic.  Now that I'm on a food plan I look at what it entails and I'm amazed becuase I'm still hungry.  The portions are resasonable, they seem normal, and even though I would think this would be more than enough food - it isn't.  And I'm hungry.  Which tells me I was eating more than this amount every day.  That just makes it all the harder to  know what I'm doing right and wrong.  The worst part is - I have believed for years that dieting doesn't make a difference to my weight at a certain point - it seems like my body clings to the weight.  Is this true or is my ability to understand normal portions so skewed that I can't see that I am overeating instead of following a sensible diet.

"They are restless, irritable and discontented, unless they can again experience the sense of ease and comfort which comes at once by [eating a few bites] - [bites] which they see others taking with impunity."  - xxviii-xxix

It is awful to wake up thinking of food.  Eat, thinking about the next meal before the current one is even finished.  Think about how long until you can eat again without it being odd or bizarre.  Grocery shopping is just torture, because you want to buy one of everything and eat it all.  And the worst part is you see all these normal sized people eating junk food - cake and ice cream and pizza and fast food.  How can they do it but I can't?  It's maddening.

Preface - xxvii

The Doctor's Opinion

"We doctors have realized for a long time that some form of moral psychology was of urgent importance to [compulsive overeaters], but its application presented difficulties beyond our conception.  What with our ultra-modern standards, our scientific approach to everything, we are perhaps not well equipped to apply the powers of good that lie outside our synthetic knowledge." - xxvii

Had you asked me ten years ago if there were problems of health that medical science could not resolve, I would have said "no."  Even psychological problems could be solved through medication - or so I thought.  And I considered psychiatric treatment to be within the scope of medical science.  I figured that if there was something medical science couldn't cure today, that we would eventually find a way to cure it in the future.  And it is true there is a possibility that food addiction will be curable later on.  They are already making vaccines against nicotine and methamphetamine, maybe they will create a vaccine against whatever goes on with our brains as well.  But right now, this problem is not something that medicine can address - not that they haven't tried.

I remember the first thing my doctor did was try increasing my thyroid levels up slightly above the normal range.  When that didn't work, they tried giving me tablets that would curb my appetite.  Eventually when that didn't work, they gave me tablets that would bind to fat molecules and help me not absorb everything I was eating.  When that made me sick, they sent me to a nutritionist who gave me an insanely detailed diet involving weighing and measuring every bite of food - when that didn't work for the high school student I was at the time, they then tried signing me up for a personal trainer and exercise program.  Again that didn't work.  I have tried everything from a measured carbohydrate diet, to a no carbohydrate diet, to a low fat diet, to Jenny Craig and Weight Watchers, and even a liquid diet.  When nothing could help and I just got worse and worse, the doctor told me that I needed bariatric surgery.  I was reactive hypoglycemic and developing insulin resistance.  I was told that if I didn't get that surgery I'd be dead by thirty.  So I got the surgery and it didn't help.  Well, it didn't help much.  I was able to keep off a whopping thirty pounds.  That's it.  Of the over 100 pounds I needed to lose I was able to keep off thirty.

But I find the phrasing to be the most interesting part of this quote:  "moral psychology" and "synthetic knowledge."  Saying that the psychology involved in finding abstinence is "moral" in nature bothers me.  It suggests that there is something amoral about people who have addiction problems, and that just isn't the case.  We may have moral issues, but not by virtue of having an addiction!  Again it goes back to the nature of the malady being both physical and spiritual in nature.  If it were a purely physical or purely psychological or even purely spiritual problem, a solution would be far easier to find.  Referring to the medical science as "synthetic knowledge" is also fascinating. 

The practice of medicine is called a practice because it is more of an art than a science.  We test our medicines on people in a vacuum.  At least, as much of one as we can create.  There are always those people who are more sensitive or less sensitive than others.  And while there is a range of "normal" for locations of anatomy, not everyones heart is in the precise same location as everyone elses heart.  Sure the general location is correct, but it is the details that differ.  So anything we say we "know" about the body really is this artificial notion based on statistics and averages, as opposed to specifics.  The phrase "synthetic knowledge" seems to address both the imperfections of our medical knowledge - and imperfections of our ability to actually apply that knowledge to individual cases - and the fact that most of our remedies involve putting a foreign substance into our bodies.

"Of course [a compulsive overeater] ought to be freed from his physical craving for [food], and this often requires a definite hospital procedure, before psychological measures can be of maximum benefit." - xxvii - xxviii

Again it is the notion of mixing medicine and spiritual healing.  But I read this and wondered what exactly this would involve for a compulsive overeater.  There are bariatric surgeries, but that isn't exactly necessary.  Would this "definite hospital procedure" be the equivalent of our food plans?  Or are they referring more to the detoxification portion of weaning an alcoholic off of alcohol.  Considering that this was written in the 1930s, I'd be curious to learn what kind of hospital treatment that alcoholics received.

------------------

Normally I should do five pages, but there is so much that called to me that I'd be up all night if I tried, so I'll return tomorrow for more!

I Just Couldn't Do It

On Thursday I leave for my cruise with my husband.  I am going to be starting a new abstinence program when I get back, and as part of that abstinence program I am going to have a new OA birthday.  So essentially I am going to be starting over again.

Which is wonderful, because it is a fresh start.  But it also is awful because I worked hard these past months staying abstinent.  After a discussion with my husband I decided to say "screw it" and just eat that french fry.  Except I couldn't do it.  I thought about trying to drink soda, but I couldn't do that either. 

The thought of how painful the withdrawal from those items was stopped me.  No amount of enjoyment is going to be worth adding that pain onto the pain I'm going to be feeling when wheat and sugar is taken out of my diet. 

Previously I thought it was the chip that kept me honest.  For years I used to lie to myself and say I ate healthy.  I took great care of myself.  I exercised all the time and almost never ate junk food.  Any time I ate junk food or didn't go to the gym, I told myself it was an aberration.  That wasn't the normal - it was just that one day.

The thing about abstinence is that "just that one day" means you are now in the zero to twenty-nine days abstinent category.  Whenever I really wanted to break abstinence, I thought about that and stopped - because it  meant starting over again.  It meant that all my prior hard work and good behavior meant nothing.

But even though I'm starting over, I still couldn't do it.  Because even though my life is a mess and what I'm doing now isn't working - it's still better than what my life was before.  I just couldn't do it.

Preface - xxii to xxvi

Foreword to Third Edition

"Seven percent of the A.A.'s surveyed are less than 30 years of age - among them, many in their teens."  - xxii

The fact that there were people back in the fledgling years of AA who were this young just confirms for me that there is a genetic component to addiction.  My great grandfather was a terrible alcoholic.  It was eventually what killed him - which isn't surprising since having lost a leg while being hit by a train [while drunk] didn't stop him from drinking.  Addiction is hard-wired into my DNA.  And it isn't just food.  I can be compulsive about anything - arts and crafts, video games, books, etc.  It always seems to be that I get started doing something, and then I feel compulsively driven to keep doing that one thing.  So everything is feast or famine with me.  If I am in the mood to watch TV, I want to watch TV every night and every free minute of the day.  But as soon as I want to read instead of watch TV, I suddenly am obsessed with reading every night and every free minute of the day.  There is no middle ground - and it seems to be the same way with food.  I either am binge eating or I am fasting/purging.  I always tend to swing to the extremes.

". . . recovery begins when one [compulsive overeater] talks with another [compulsive overeater], sharing experience, strength, and hope."  - xxii

It was the feeling of helplessness and hopelessness that brought me back to OA.  What has been so bizarre this time around is that when  my world feels overwhelming and I think I don't have the strength to make it another day, I go to a meeting and I feel like things will be okay.  And it isn't just about abstinence, it's about my job and my marriage and my child - all the little stresses that build up until I think that I am going to break are gone as soon as I walk in that door.  It is like I can finally breathe again.  And the rest of the day or night (depending on the time of the meeting) I feel like I have the strength to keep going.

Foreword to Fourth Edition

"When the phrase 'We are people who normally would not mix' . . . was written in 1939, it referred to a Fellowship composed largely of men (and a few women) with quite similar social, ethnic, and economic backgrounds.  Like so much of A.A.'s basic text, those words have proved to be far more visionary than the founding members could ever have imagined." - xxiii

The most bizarre aspect of OA meetings is the kinship I feel with people I never would have encountered in my daily life otherwise.  I listen to speakers who are from completely different social, ethnic and economic backgrounds to me and I hear my own story.  It's like meeting a family I never knew existed but who are so like me it is almost frightening.  And I do feel a kinship with the people I talk to at the meetings.  We're in this together, and there is a camaraderie, because I need them to recover and they need me to recover.  At my first meeting, I had the distinct sensation that I was coming home.

". . . [OA]'s speak the language of the heart in all its power and simplicity." - xxiv

I love that I can be honest about my life when I am sharing at an OA meeting.  There is something amazing about the anonymity that allows me to open up my deepest and darkest secrets.  This is the place where it is appropriate to strip down the ego and the image and all the bullshit we put out to hide our disease.  We can bear all and know that we are safe to do so.  Not only do people understand the lows, they've been there themselves.  There's a great quote I heard that goes something like this:  "Of course we feel inadequate - we're comparing our everyday lives to other people's highlight reels."  At the meetings we get to share the worst moments of our lives and discover that we're not alone.  It is that honesty and that understanding that I think of when I read this passage.

The Doctor's Opinion

". . . suffered [compulsive overeater] torture. . ." - xxvi

God, how true this is.  There is that moment when I've finished the box of Oreos or that carton of ice cream that I hate myself.  Or sometimes even while I still am eating, because I look in that container and see that I have two more cookies, and it is with bone deep and gut wrenching despair that I pick up those two cookies and eat them.  Because they're there.  Because then the box will be empty and it won't be there to torment me any more. 

And I hate myself every last second that the bite is going into my mouth, and every last second I chew that bite, all the way until I finish that box.  And I despise myself for the weakness that led me to eat the box in the first place.  I promise not to ever buy another box of cookies again.  I swear that I have learned my lesson and I never ever want to feel horrible like that again.  But somehow when I am at the store it seems like my arms and hands have a will entirely of their own as I put another box in my cart.  And I hate myself for putting that box in my cart.  And I hate myself for putting that box on the conveyor belt to be purchased. And the cycle begins again.

Not to mention the deep shame of it all. Sometimes I try to pretend I am having friends over - I make up a story about going to a party or having people over to watch the game.  And when I go to drive-thru windows and am ordering enough food to feed an army I purchase multiple drinks just so the person at the window won't know that it is all for me.  Yet there is still that pinpoint of terror inside when the cashier looks at me that they know.  They are looking at my fat ass and they know that I just paid another five dollars for two extra drinks to try and pretend that all that food isn't going into my own stomach.

Torture is the best possible word for this disease.

". . . the body of the [compulsive overeater] is quite as abnormal as his mind. . . It did not satisfy us to be told that we could not control our [eating] just because we were maladjusted to life, that we were in full flight from reality, or were outright mental defectives.  These things were true to some extent, in fact, to a considerable extent with some of us.  But we are sure that our bodies were sickened as well.  In our belief, any picture of the [compulsive overeater] which leaves out this physical factor is incomplete." - xxvi

This is the flip side to the discussion that was previously in the preface talking about how this is not just a physical problem but a spiritual malady.  It also ties in to the findings that addiction is something a person can be genetically predispositioned to.  At least one study shows that sugar can be as addictive as cocaine or heroin, including withdrawal symptoms if it is eliminated from the diet.

Preface - xvi to xxi

Foreword to Second Edition

This section discusses the beginnings of AA and the discoveries made b the physician and broker who started the group.

". . . the necessity of belief in and dependence upon God." - xvi

I was once told that your higher power can be anything or any one, so long as it is something you are willing to put your faith in and surrender the power to.  I'm not an atheist or even an agnostic, but I have a hard time believing that God will be the one to take away this insanity. At this stage my higher power is my sponsor.   I can't manage my own food and I can't manage my own recovery.  I'm just not equipped with the necessary tools to do this. 

The thing is, I have prayed to God for help.  I have prayed for many things, but it just never seems like He answers.  Or if He is answering, it isn't in any way that I'm going to be able to hear.  So if He's going to be inclined to answer now, He's going to have to do it through the voice of my sponsor.

And it isn't that I don't think He listens to prayers.  For instance, I really attribute it to His grace that I found OA in the first place.  But I can't sit and wait for something to happen.  There's a great joke about a man who goes to a statue of St. Peter and prays every day to win the lottery.  One day his forlorn tear strikes the foot of the statue and St. Peter comes to life and says to the man "for the love of God, buy a lottery ticket!"

". . . the theory that only [a compulsive overeater] could help [a compulsive overeater], but he succeeded only in keeping [abstinent] himself." - xvi

I always could remember getting angry at skinny people or people who were in great shape when they would talk to me about their "weight struggles".  My mother is a prime example.  She goes on about how she battles with food, and how it is so difficult for her to give up breads and all the other things she'll do depending on which fad diet she is following at a given time.  I get that she is tempted and she really wants to eat the bread or whatever it is she gave up. 

And I understand the determination it takes for those people who are in great shape to keep getting out of bed in the morning to exercise.  But most of those people never got out of bed carrying another person in weight and went for that run.  They get the satisfaction of feeling good after exercising and looking in the mirror and feeling accomplishment.  All I get is the feeling that I'm going to die and a view of the same old fat ass I always see.

It is like someone who once sprained an ankle trying to tell a paraplegic that they "totally understand."  My need to diet isn't about those extra four pounds I gained on vacation.  I need to lose, conservatively speaking, at least fifty pounds.  I probably should lose more like eighty or ninety pounds.

But my mentor's mentor lost over three hundred pounds - if there's someone who understands what it is to face a mountain, he's it.  The people at OA who are working the steps and fighting these demons - they understand.  They have a frame of reference for what I'm talking about and what I'm going through.  And they've managed to pull through to the other side.  And once I get to the other side, it's my turn to pull others across, because that's the only way to stay where I need to be.  To remember the struggle and the suffering.  Because if I let myself forget, like I did when I had my baby, then I'm going to be right back in hell again.

". . . in order to save himself he must carry his message to another [compulsive overeater]." - xvi

See above.

". . . began to pursue the spiritual remedy for his malady with a willingness he had never before been able to muster." - xvi

It's amazing the power of hope.  At the end of the day, I am the one who is picking up the food and putting it into my mouth.  But if I leave control of the food choices to my sponsor, I can succeed where previously I failed.  And that's a powerful motivator.

But I love the description of this as the pursuit of a spiritual remedy for the malady.  It is such a beautiful way to describe this problem.  Whenever my mom gets on me about my weight and asks how much I've lost, I always tell her: "I don't weigh in."  She gets upset, but I shake my head and tell her, "the weight is a symptom of the disease, not the disease itself."  That is what I learned in my first go at OA.  This disease is both spiritual and physical, and all the doctors in the world are going to be helpless to cure it without that spiritual remedy.

I am seeking a spiritual remedy for my malady.

"This seemed to prove that one [compulsive overeater] could affect another as no non[compulsive overeater] could." - xvi-xvii

See above.

"There were many failures, but there was an occasional heartening success." - xvii

The rest of this section goes on to talk about the spread of AA and the fact that people kept coming back.  Those who really tried either succeed immediately, eventually succeeded, or just simply got better.  And many who left at first eventually came back. 

This just resonated with me because I see and hear so much how people keep coming back to OA after they leave.  If people keep returning to this program for the answer, it obviously is waiting there.  And there eventually will be that one meeting that clicks.  So even if there are going to be failures on my road, I can still look forward to an occasional heartening success.

Preface - xi to xv

Preface pages xi to xv:

The first two pages describe the changes which have been made in the different editions of the big book.

Foreword to First Edition

"Many do not comprehend that the [compulsive overeater] is a very sick person." - xiii

I first went to Overeater's Anonymous because a family friend acknowledged that she had a problem and needed help, but was too afraid to go by herself.  I didn't believe that I had a problem.  In fact, I thought that my attendance at that meeting was going to be a huge waste of my time.  I patiently met the new member greeter, sat through the first part of the meeting, and then quietly listened as the speaker blew me away.

She was a woman in her fifties who sat there and told my story.  It was bizarre hearing about my compulsive and interfering mother, my closet eating, my feelings of shame and guilt and worthlessness, my focus on education to make up for my failure at maintaining a normal weight.  This woman could have spent the last twenty-seven years of her life watching through my windows. 

And then it hit me with a sickening thud.  These were my people.  I didn't want them to be my people.  I didn't want to have a problem.  But I walked up to that woman and asked her to be my sponsor that day and left that meeting with the understanding that I belonged in overeaters anonymous.  I started an abstinence program the next day and stayed abstinent until I got pregnant.

I had a difficult pregnancy and although soda was on my abstinence, it was the only fluid that would stay in my stomach.  I was too sick to drive, and spent most of the pregnancy on bed rest.  So I just didn't worry about anything but getting that baby delivered safely at full term.

When my son was born, I felt like that missing piece of my soul was found.  It felt like that gaping hole I kept trying to fill with food was suddenly filled with love for my son.  So I threw out thoughts of overeaters anonymous and threw out my sponsor's number because I was "cured".  I wouldn't need food because I had my son.

But it doesn't work like that.  I wasn't cured.  I wasn't fine. Whenever I held my son I felt that overflowing love - but eventually my son didn't want to be cuddled all day long.  He wanted to crawl and explore the world.  He loves me, and I'm his favorite person, but he wants to become his own person now.  And magically that gaping hole is no longer full all the time.  So I started to fill it up with food once more.  While nursing I'd lost my entire pregnancy weight and then an additional twenty pounds.  Now I've gained back those twenty pounds and added another twenty for good measure.  I'm not back to my pregnancy weight, but without help I'll be back there soon.

So I know now that this is a disease.  I can't just will it to be cured.  It isn't going to just magically go away, no matter how much I may want it to.  I belong here, like it or not.

I've talked to my mother and my best friend about my participation in OA.  They both are supportive of me working to lose weight, but they just don't seem to understand that this is a disease.  My mother goes on to talk about her own issues with food - and believe me, she has them.  But my mother is able to maintain a healthy weight.  She does "yo-yo" diet, but her swing is in the five to ten pound range.  As far as I know, she does not binge, she does not purge, all she does is eat like a normal person and cut back when she no longer is at a normal weight.  I don't think she understands that I just can't do that.  Believe me, she's baffled at the fact that I've never managed to get my weight off, and never managed to keep off whatever weight I have lost.  She always says "when you want it bad enough, you'll find the will."  And that's exactly the problem.  I am powerless over this disease.

My best friend takes this as a suggestion that she'll go on a diet with me.  This is just a diet club to her, not an actual illness.  She doesn't want to accept the notion that there is anything wrong with me other than a lack of determination to lose weight.  I think this may be because she also has difficulty losing weight.  I suspect she may also be a compulsive overeater.  So perhaps she fights against accepting that I am sick because she doesn't want to believe that she is sick as well.

When I first started with OA, my husband was skeptical but wanted to "humor me".  Now that he's lived with me off the program, he's a believer.  He's watched me suffer and he understands.  He's found enough of my random stashes of hidden foods to understand that something is very wrong!

"Being mostly business or professional folk. . ." - xiii

I have a close friend who has always had a weight problem.  She's blamed genetics, she's blamed her parent's divorce during childhood, she's blamed finances and time constraints.  I used to always believe that her weight problem stemmed from her unwillingness to be uncomfortable.  She won't wear under wire bras because they hurt.  She changed to an easier major because the other was too hard - she had the mental capacity to succeed, but it just was more work than she was willing to put in.  And I saw her weight problem as an extension of this aversion to discomfort.

But I am as heavy as she is.  I don't have an aversion to discomfort.  I went through eight years of college, and received my law degree from a university that prides itself on being one of the toughest schools around.  I work from home, take care of my ten month old son, and manage to have dinner on  the table by the time my husband gets home from work.  Before my pregnancy I walked half-marathons to help raise money for cancer research, and volunteered as a mentor even though I worked insanely long hours during the week.  I am not a lazy person.  (My husband may disagree when it comes time to wash the dishes or take out the trash, however. . .)

I am a compulsive overeater.  And seeing as how I am able to succeed in other areas of my life, it only seems logical that I would be able to apply the same diligence and fortitude that I have in other areas of my life.  Only I can't.  And as the Big Book mentioned, I'm not alone in this.  This disease doesn't care that I'm educated, or a professional, or a mother, or anything about my willingness to volunteer for a cause.  All this disease cares about is getting food from my plate into my stomach.  And when the first Big Book was published, the first members were "mostly business or professional folk" - not lazy people, not weak willed people.  They were people like me.

Foreword to Second Edition

". . .a New York stockbroker and an Akron physician. . ." - xv

Same thoughts as previous statement.

Happy Thursday

It seemed appropriate that I would start this blog on Thanksgiving - the holiday of the glutton.  I heard a great thing in my regular Overeaters Anonymous meeting this last week:  "Here at OA we have a name for Thanksgiving.  It's called Thursday."  And really that struck a chord with me.  We always hear that others only have power over us if we give them that power, but the same thing is true of days as well. 

The 4th Thursday in November.  December 25th.  January 1st.  February 14th.  March 17th.  July 4th. These are all just calendar days.  If you hadn't been told otherwise, you never would have known there was anything special about any of these given days.  But magically being near the "holidays" leaves people feeling lonely or depressed.  And for compulsive overeaters that fourth Thursday of November is a daunting day of food and temptation.  Why? Because we've made it that way.

This is my first abstinent Thanksgiving.  My abstinence right now is simple: no soda, no coffee, no beer, no hard liquor, no french fries, no doughnuts.  These are all things I just can't handle with any semblance of sanity.  The biggest part of my abstinence is the non-food portion: no vomiting, no eating until you feel sick.  Stopping when I was full was difficult this year, but I ate each of the foods I love in moderation - avoiding the pitfalls of soda and alcohol - and I felt good about my day.

My first sponsor told me to pick items that "set me off" rather than try to do a highly restrictive abstinence from day one.  She felt that starting off with a tough abstinence was a quick trip to failure.  That had been her experience and so that was how we worked the program together.  My sponsor was wonderful and I'm sad that when I decided to take a break from OA during my pregnancy that we lost touch.  I miss her.

But I will be starting a very strict abstinence with a new sponsor in the coming weeks.  Next Thursday my husband and I are finally taking the honeymoon that we postponed last year.  My new sponsor agreed to start being my sponsor when I get back from that honeymoon (seeing as how week two is a bit early to be battling to stay abstinent on a cruise ship when I'm still learning the rules of the program!) 

But there were a number of things that greatly bothered me about agreeing to do this abstinence program.  First was the impact this would have upon my husband and son.  In the beginning the meals are very uniform from day to day, and I have concerns about how this logistically will work with them.  But second, and sadly most importantly, I worried about those "special days".  How could I give up my birthday cake? Or Christmas dinner?  Most of the rest of the holidays I could live without - but no birthday cake was really something I was stuck on.

My husband told me to order a birthday cake for myself before the abstinence started.  We are writing all the numbers between 30 and 90 on that cake, and it will be my birthday cake until I am 90.  Because March 23rd is just a calendar date.  Sure I was born on a March 23rd, but that doesn't mean that it needs to be anything other than another day on the calendar.

With a little luck and a lot of leaning on others, I think I can do this.