I recently added In This Moment Daily Meditation Book put out by Co-Dependents Anonymous (CoDA) to my list of daily readings.
The May 5th entry talks about making a "searching and fearless moral inventory." Part of the entry goes on to say "The hardest part of doing my inventory is breaking through denial. I can't inventory something I don't know exists. Once I'm aware of a behavior, I'm usually willing to write it down, share it, and ask that my defect be removed. Getting there takes time and that's OK with me today."
One of the things that has been bothering me lately is that I managed to go through a full Fourth Step without spotting my love addiction. When it came time for me to do my Fourth Step, my sponsor "followed the book." There was an actual spreadsheet I was given to fill out. It had tabs for resentment, fear and sex. Each tab had columns to fill out (although to be fair the sex tab had a list of questions I had to answer about each of my sexual relationships): "I have a resentment towards/of (bb pg 64)" "because or why (bb pg 64)" "my instinct for (...) has been/was affected (12/12 pg 42)" and so on. It took me over three months to fill in the entire thing, and my printed Fourth Step came out to somewhere around 90 pages (although to be fair it printed in fairly large font).
And yet somehow I didn't see a glaringly obvious defect: and what's more my sponsor didn't see it either. (At least if she did, she didn't tell me!) It would only seem natural that addictive patterns would show themselves in these types of inventories. The fact that it remained hidden was a mystery.
This baffled me, but reading this reading shed some important light on this for me. I'd always thought it silly that I'd need to do Fourth Steps in multiple programs. The "fearless and searching moral inventory" wasn't going to wear different hats. But now that I have a new addiction - and a new defect - I have something to write down, share, and ask to have removed. I need a new Fourth Step because I couldn't inventory something I didn't know existed.
Showing posts with label Denial. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Denial. Show all posts
Monday, May 5, 2014
Sunday, May 4, 2014
Newcomers. . .
The May 4th Voices of Recovery quotes The Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions of Overeaters Anonymous: "All who have experienced the pain of compulsive eating and want to stop are equally welcome here." It goes on to tell the story of a woman who came to the meetings fighting the program. "I had no desire to refrain from compulsively eating. Instead, I wanted to diet. I did not take the suggestions seriously. Tradition Three illustrates the reason for my inability to grasp this program. I wanted the weight loss and even the pleasure of it without having to earn it first. Today when I watch newcomers struggle with the program as I did, I try to show the same compassion and acceptance as those before me."
I remember my first day in Overeaters Anonymous. I came into the rooms believing that I didn't need the program - I was fine. When the woman who shared told my own story, I was shocked. But I decided to sign up. She'd lost all her weight so clearly whatever these people were selling worked. I asked her to sponsor me at break and felt I had put a check in the box to have them wave the magic wand that would fix me.
She told me to read from the Big Book, and I read Bill's Story and put the book down again. Not only did I not relate to the story, but I figured that all the Big Book contained was a collection of people's stories. Why would I bother reading about a bunch of alcoholics when I could sit in a meeting and hear people tell me about their own stories of recovery - and on topic, too!. I was already sold on the program, just get to the good stuff!
That sponsor told me to write down three things I loved about myself every day. I thought it was the dumbest assignment in the world. And yet when I sat down that night I couldn't think of a single thing. Everything I loved had a "yeah, but. . ." attached to it that was a disqualifying factor. I eventually found myself on the phone with another woman I'd met in meeting, sobbing because I couldn't find anything to love about myself.
Eventually I was able to identify a few items - I have a set of freckles on my leg that looks like a happy face; I always have a flower painted on my big-toenails; and I have three freckles on my foot that make a straight line. Each night I came up with three new things - sometimes it was that I loved a dish I cooked, other times it was that I loved knowing how to knit. But each time I failed to understand what the point of this exercise was.
Every time I asked that sponsor why we were bothering with this (get on with the wand waving, already!) she told me we were working on my first step. She asked me to identify trigger foods, so I started cutting out things like soda and coffee. Eventually my "abstinence" was to not eat French fries, doughnuts, or drink coffee and soda. Yet I still binged on sweets and snack foods to my heart's content. So after three months I decided I was wasting my time and left program.
When I came back I decided I could do it on my own. For the first two months back in the rooms I was back to my original "abstinence" - still binging away - and I decided that I could identify my own trigger foods. Since my first sponsor didn't "do anything" for me, I'd sponsor myself!
But through this all, I was just as clueless as that woman was. I wanted the results without the work. I didn't want to surrender to another person. I didn't want to work the steps. I didn't want to change my life. I just wanted the magical fix.
But there is no magical fix. There is a miraculous one - but that requires work to attain.
It wasn't until after I'd gotten another sponsor, surrendered, and gone through my first step that I learned what my first sponsor was doing: she was trying to show me that my life was unmanageable. She was waiting for me to notice just how hard it was for me to find things I loved about myself, and she was waiting for the light bulb to click that maybe, just maybe, whatever it was I was doing to run my life wasn't working. But because I never left the disease, I never was able to see what she was trying to show me.
Today's reading was a good reminder of just how much I struggled as a newcomer, and just how much I need to show compassion to those still suffering from compulsive overeating.
I remember my first day in Overeaters Anonymous. I came into the rooms believing that I didn't need the program - I was fine. When the woman who shared told my own story, I was shocked. But I decided to sign up. She'd lost all her weight so clearly whatever these people were selling worked. I asked her to sponsor me at break and felt I had put a check in the box to have them wave the magic wand that would fix me.
She told me to read from the Big Book, and I read Bill's Story and put the book down again. Not only did I not relate to the story, but I figured that all the Big Book contained was a collection of people's stories. Why would I bother reading about a bunch of alcoholics when I could sit in a meeting and hear people tell me about their own stories of recovery - and on topic, too!. I was already sold on the program, just get to the good stuff!
That sponsor told me to write down three things I loved about myself every day. I thought it was the dumbest assignment in the world. And yet when I sat down that night I couldn't think of a single thing. Everything I loved had a "yeah, but. . ." attached to it that was a disqualifying factor. I eventually found myself on the phone with another woman I'd met in meeting, sobbing because I couldn't find anything to love about myself.
Eventually I was able to identify a few items - I have a set of freckles on my leg that looks like a happy face; I always have a flower painted on my big-toenails; and I have three freckles on my foot that make a straight line. Each night I came up with three new things - sometimes it was that I loved a dish I cooked, other times it was that I loved knowing how to knit. But each time I failed to understand what the point of this exercise was.
Every time I asked that sponsor why we were bothering with this (get on with the wand waving, already!) she told me we were working on my first step. She asked me to identify trigger foods, so I started cutting out things like soda and coffee. Eventually my "abstinence" was to not eat French fries, doughnuts, or drink coffee and soda. Yet I still binged on sweets and snack foods to my heart's content. So after three months I decided I was wasting my time and left program.
When I came back I decided I could do it on my own. For the first two months back in the rooms I was back to my original "abstinence" - still binging away - and I decided that I could identify my own trigger foods. Since my first sponsor didn't "do anything" for me, I'd sponsor myself!
But through this all, I was just as clueless as that woman was. I wanted the results without the work. I didn't want to surrender to another person. I didn't want to work the steps. I didn't want to change my life. I just wanted the magical fix.
But there is no magical fix. There is a miraculous one - but that requires work to attain.
It wasn't until after I'd gotten another sponsor, surrendered, and gone through my first step that I learned what my first sponsor was doing: she was trying to show me that my life was unmanageable. She was waiting for me to notice just how hard it was for me to find things I loved about myself, and she was waiting for the light bulb to click that maybe, just maybe, whatever it was I was doing to run my life wasn't working. But because I never left the disease, I never was able to see what she was trying to show me.
Today's reading was a good reminder of just how much I struggled as a newcomer, and just how much I need to show compassion to those still suffering from compulsive overeating.
Friday, April 11, 2014
Do You Know Who You Are?
I watched an episode of Grey's Anatomy that posed three questions. The patient was a man who had been paralyzed from neck down in an accident. The doctor was asking if he wished to be taken off of life support as he would never be able to live without machines to breathe for him. To confirm that he wished to be taken off of the machines he was asked three questions:
Do you know who you are?
Do you know what's happened to you?
Do you want to live this way?
It shocked me just how appropriate these questions were for a compulsive overeater. Really, for any addict. Before program the answer to all those questions was a resounding no.
I didn't know who I was. Indeed, I spent nearly every waking moment trying to avoid figuring that out. I ate, I drank, I played excessive video games, I read, I did anything and everything to not think about who I was.
I didn't know what had happened to me. I woke up one day and I was 305 pounds. Sure I saw myself getting larger and larger, but somehow it still snuck up on me. I kept expecting that tomorrow would be different - tomorrow I'd find the will to change. Tomorrow I'd eat healthy and exercise. I'd suddenly know how to act and be like other people. But tomorrow never came. So I got a gastric bypass. I lost the weight but it came right back on. And again tomorrow never came.
The only thing I knew before program was that I didn't want to live this way. I couldn't live this way. I was hopeless. I was desperate. I was completely unwilling to surrender my life and will to the care of a power greater than myself. It took the complete and total annihilation of my willingness to live before I was able to put down the reigns and hand over control.
That day I waved the white flag and got a sponsor. That's when the miracle happened. How different today is. I went from 305 pounds down to the 169 pounds I weighed today (and I'm still losing). I went from a size 24 to a size 10. A size XXXL to a size M. I went from constantly depressed and angry to a genuinely happy, optimistic person. My life has never been better.
I now can confidently answer all three of those questions with a yes. I discovered that the answer was surrender. Sweet, simple surrender.
Do you know who you are?
Do you know what's happened to you?
Do you want to live this way?
It shocked me just how appropriate these questions were for a compulsive overeater. Really, for any addict. Before program the answer to all those questions was a resounding no.
I didn't know who I was. Indeed, I spent nearly every waking moment trying to avoid figuring that out. I ate, I drank, I played excessive video games, I read, I did anything and everything to not think about who I was.
I didn't know what had happened to me. I woke up one day and I was 305 pounds. Sure I saw myself getting larger and larger, but somehow it still snuck up on me. I kept expecting that tomorrow would be different - tomorrow I'd find the will to change. Tomorrow I'd eat healthy and exercise. I'd suddenly know how to act and be like other people. But tomorrow never came. So I got a gastric bypass. I lost the weight but it came right back on. And again tomorrow never came.
The only thing I knew before program was that I didn't want to live this way. I couldn't live this way. I was hopeless. I was desperate. I was completely unwilling to surrender my life and will to the care of a power greater than myself. It took the complete and total annihilation of my willingness to live before I was able to put down the reigns and hand over control.
That day I waved the white flag and got a sponsor. That's when the miracle happened. How different today is. I went from 305 pounds down to the 169 pounds I weighed today (and I'm still losing). I went from a size 24 to a size 10. A size XXXL to a size M. I went from constantly depressed and angry to a genuinely happy, optimistic person. My life has never been better.
I now can confidently answer all three of those questions with a yes. I discovered that the answer was surrender. Sweet, simple surrender.
Thursday, March 20, 2014
Why Sponsoring Yourself Fails and Facing Relapse
After a span of 15 months of solid abstinence, I slipped. I have plenty of excuses for why it happened. I was exhausted. I was distracted. But the fact remains that my 2-year-old son left part of a cookie on the floor. I was cleaning up the assortment of cheerios, pretzels, fruit snacks, grapes, and other detritus he'd dropped on the floor that afternoon when I picked up a piece of cookie and popped it in my mouth.
Had it stopped there, I may have salvaged my abstinence. But once the cookie piece was in my mouth the curious insanity set in. "It's already in my mouth, I might as well eat it." We all have moments where we pop a food item in our mouth unthinking. When this has happened to me in the past, I have spit out the food item and told my sponsor about it. Well this time I was between sponsors - meaning I was my own sponsor. I'll give you a hint - sponsoring yourself doesn't work. Because you see, as my own sponsor, I told myself, "It's already in your mouth, you might as well eat it."
It was a slippery slide from there. I bought my boyfriend a box of doughnuts. My son took one and was done with it. Well I wrapped it in a napkin and threw it away. In a weak moment, I figured out that I had enough calories left in my daily budget to eat that doughnut. Since it had been carefully wrapped before finding its way into the trash can, I figured it was fair game to eat. Never mind that my baseline abstinence is no flour, no sugar, no compulsive eating behaviors (i.e., eating off the floor and pulling items out of the trash can). I counted that as an abstinent treat because I budgeted for it in my calories. I hadn't felt triggered by the cookie, and that doughnut hadn't set me off on a binge, so clearly I could handle flour and sugar again. But to be safe I wouldn't eat any breads or salty treats - that might not go over as well. I was the man who believed it safe to drink whiskey with his milk from the Big Book.
The next thing I knew, a few days later I went to the store and purchased six more doughnuts. I budgeted them into my calories but wound up eating them all in one day. So instead of a calorie cap for a day, I started using my calorie cap for the week. I ate all six doughnuts, but now I was struggling to find a way to control my calories for the week. Well then I started to look at my "average calories on plan" - this is something in my calorie counting application that tells me how many calories I typically am over or under budget per day over the span of my tracking period. Now I figured as long as I averaged out being under calories I'd be fine. So I bought and ate a dozen doughnuts over the course of two days.
When I got on the scale I discovered that in three weeks I had managed to gain eight pounds by steadily eating up the calorie deficits that I'd spent three months accumulating. It was time to face the music. I knew that my abstinence had been broken and I was in relapse. So I did what any compulsive eater would do. I went to the grocery store, picked up about $50 worth of binge foods, and took them home. My son sat with me as I ate two Twinkies, a Hostess cupcake, a store made chocolate chip cookie, and about 9 Oreos. (While eating I discovered they no longer tasted that good, much to my disappointment.)
It was then my son's bed time. I got up to give him a bath and discovered I felt buzzed. Being an alcoholic, I used to laugh when people described getting a buzz from food, but I honestly felt like I'd been drinking a bottle or two of wine. I had a strong buzz. I got sober when I got abstinent, so the two had always overlapped. Now I knew that I was feeling that sugar high people spoke about. I was high and I hated the feeling. I gave my son a bath feeling completely numbed out and disconnected. It was like life had lost its color, and I didn't want any more of that feeling. I spent so many days wishing for sweet oblivion while I went through the pain of writing my fourth step, and here I was with that sweet oblivion and I discovered there was nothing sweet about it.
So I put my son in bed and proceeded to throw out the rest of the binge foods. I then picked up the phone and asked someone to be my sponsor.
When I first came into program I was suicidal and so desperate for help that handing my life over to the care of my sponsor was an incredible relief. This time I wasn't holding the weight of the world on my shoulders. I was living my life working the steps. I was doing daily 10th steps. I was praying and meditating. I was saying the serenity prayer when things got difficult. What I wasn't doing was being honest with myself. As soon as that honest appraisal happened, I did the most amazing thing: I picked up the phone and used my tools. I surrendered without the feeling that the world was crushing me. For this gift of willingness I can only thank my Higher Power, because with my pride there is no doubt in my mind that I didn't surrender on my own. I heard in meeting tonight that when we stop listening to God's whispers, he starts throwing bricks. God had to throw skyscrapers before I came into the rooms and got abstinent. Yet somehow I listened to the whisper over the roar of the food.
One of the horror stories we "grow up with" in program is the story of the person in relapse. When you go out, you never know how long it's going to take you to come back in. The fear of relapse is what kept me from acknowledging it for so long, because I had a fear-driven belief that relapse meant that I would gain all my weight back and more. I'm down 135 pounds from my top weight. That is a long road of pain and heart ache that I saw stretched before me.
Those stories gave me the idea that relapse was a creature with a mind of its own. I would be hijacked by my disease, helpless to stop the weight gain. I'd lose everything I'd gained in program, and gain everything I'd lost whether I wanted to or not! And yet I have four days of abstinence. The food speaks to me, but when the food talks to me, I talk to my sponsor. I make outreach calls. I do readings. I go to meetings. I am doing all those things I did before relapse when the food got loud. And I am ending each day abstinent. I will admit that I want to go back for more doughnuts. That's fine to say and fine to feel. But I don't have to act on those feelings and thoughts. As long as I let myself be guided by my Higher Power working through my sponsor, I can choose abstinence.
Today's For Today Workbook posed the question: "When has believing in the possibility of being abstinent enabled me to stay the course to better times?" The answer is: today! When I first got abstinent my sponsor told me that I didn't have to worry about tomorrow or next week or next year. All I had to worry about is today. For today, I can do anything. So when the craving for that doughnut hit me, I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and whispered to myself: "Not today. Maybe tomorrow, but not today." It was the mantra I used before relapse, and it worked just as well today as it did then. The anxiety, the panic, the craving settled down. Because I don't have to worry about tomorrow. I believe I can follow my meal plan today. I can't tell you about tomorrow or next week or next year, but for today, I can be abstinent.
A friend of mine with over twenty years of abstinence once told me that he really only has one day: today. And for today, I've discovered that I can believe in abstinence. I don't have to surrender to relapse. I'm a compulsive overeater. I am powerless over food and my life is unmanageable. It is the first step, and it's just as true day one abstinent as it is day 500 or 5,000. I can't. God can. I think I'll let God.
Had it stopped there, I may have salvaged my abstinence. But once the cookie piece was in my mouth the curious insanity set in. "It's already in my mouth, I might as well eat it." We all have moments where we pop a food item in our mouth unthinking. When this has happened to me in the past, I have spit out the food item and told my sponsor about it. Well this time I was between sponsors - meaning I was my own sponsor. I'll give you a hint - sponsoring yourself doesn't work. Because you see, as my own sponsor, I told myself, "It's already in your mouth, you might as well eat it."
It was a slippery slide from there. I bought my boyfriend a box of doughnuts. My son took one and was done with it. Well I wrapped it in a napkin and threw it away. In a weak moment, I figured out that I had enough calories left in my daily budget to eat that doughnut. Since it had been carefully wrapped before finding its way into the trash can, I figured it was fair game to eat. Never mind that my baseline abstinence is no flour, no sugar, no compulsive eating behaviors (i.e., eating off the floor and pulling items out of the trash can). I counted that as an abstinent treat because I budgeted for it in my calories. I hadn't felt triggered by the cookie, and that doughnut hadn't set me off on a binge, so clearly I could handle flour and sugar again. But to be safe I wouldn't eat any breads or salty treats - that might not go over as well. I was the man who believed it safe to drink whiskey with his milk from the Big Book.
The next thing I knew, a few days later I went to the store and purchased six more doughnuts. I budgeted them into my calories but wound up eating them all in one day. So instead of a calorie cap for a day, I started using my calorie cap for the week. I ate all six doughnuts, but now I was struggling to find a way to control my calories for the week. Well then I started to look at my "average calories on plan" - this is something in my calorie counting application that tells me how many calories I typically am over or under budget per day over the span of my tracking period. Now I figured as long as I averaged out being under calories I'd be fine. So I bought and ate a dozen doughnuts over the course of two days.
When I got on the scale I discovered that in three weeks I had managed to gain eight pounds by steadily eating up the calorie deficits that I'd spent three months accumulating. It was time to face the music. I knew that my abstinence had been broken and I was in relapse. So I did what any compulsive eater would do. I went to the grocery store, picked up about $50 worth of binge foods, and took them home. My son sat with me as I ate two Twinkies, a Hostess cupcake, a store made chocolate chip cookie, and about 9 Oreos. (While eating I discovered they no longer tasted that good, much to my disappointment.)
It was then my son's bed time. I got up to give him a bath and discovered I felt buzzed. Being an alcoholic, I used to laugh when people described getting a buzz from food, but I honestly felt like I'd been drinking a bottle or two of wine. I had a strong buzz. I got sober when I got abstinent, so the two had always overlapped. Now I knew that I was feeling that sugar high people spoke about. I was high and I hated the feeling. I gave my son a bath feeling completely numbed out and disconnected. It was like life had lost its color, and I didn't want any more of that feeling. I spent so many days wishing for sweet oblivion while I went through the pain of writing my fourth step, and here I was with that sweet oblivion and I discovered there was nothing sweet about it.
So I put my son in bed and proceeded to throw out the rest of the binge foods. I then picked up the phone and asked someone to be my sponsor.
When I first came into program I was suicidal and so desperate for help that handing my life over to the care of my sponsor was an incredible relief. This time I wasn't holding the weight of the world on my shoulders. I was living my life working the steps. I was doing daily 10th steps. I was praying and meditating. I was saying the serenity prayer when things got difficult. What I wasn't doing was being honest with myself. As soon as that honest appraisal happened, I did the most amazing thing: I picked up the phone and used my tools. I surrendered without the feeling that the world was crushing me. For this gift of willingness I can only thank my Higher Power, because with my pride there is no doubt in my mind that I didn't surrender on my own. I heard in meeting tonight that when we stop listening to God's whispers, he starts throwing bricks. God had to throw skyscrapers before I came into the rooms and got abstinent. Yet somehow I listened to the whisper over the roar of the food.
One of the horror stories we "grow up with" in program is the story of the person in relapse. When you go out, you never know how long it's going to take you to come back in. The fear of relapse is what kept me from acknowledging it for so long, because I had a fear-driven belief that relapse meant that I would gain all my weight back and more. I'm down 135 pounds from my top weight. That is a long road of pain and heart ache that I saw stretched before me.
Those stories gave me the idea that relapse was a creature with a mind of its own. I would be hijacked by my disease, helpless to stop the weight gain. I'd lose everything I'd gained in program, and gain everything I'd lost whether I wanted to or not! And yet I have four days of abstinence. The food speaks to me, but when the food talks to me, I talk to my sponsor. I make outreach calls. I do readings. I go to meetings. I am doing all those things I did before relapse when the food got loud. And I am ending each day abstinent. I will admit that I want to go back for more doughnuts. That's fine to say and fine to feel. But I don't have to act on those feelings and thoughts. As long as I let myself be guided by my Higher Power working through my sponsor, I can choose abstinence.
Today's For Today Workbook posed the question: "When has believing in the possibility of being abstinent enabled me to stay the course to better times?" The answer is: today! When I first got abstinent my sponsor told me that I didn't have to worry about tomorrow or next week or next year. All I had to worry about is today. For today, I can do anything. So when the craving for that doughnut hit me, I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and whispered to myself: "Not today. Maybe tomorrow, but not today." It was the mantra I used before relapse, and it worked just as well today as it did then. The anxiety, the panic, the craving settled down. Because I don't have to worry about tomorrow. I believe I can follow my meal plan today. I can't tell you about tomorrow or next week or next year, but for today, I can be abstinent.
A friend of mine with over twenty years of abstinence once told me that he really only has one day: today. And for today, I've discovered that I can believe in abstinence. I don't have to surrender to relapse. I'm a compulsive overeater. I am powerless over food and my life is unmanageable. It is the first step, and it's just as true day one abstinent as it is day 500 or 5,000. I can't. God can. I think I'll let God.
Sunday, September 29, 2013
12 Steps to Total and Complete Insanity
[A spoof on the 12 Steps of Alcoholics Anonymous. . .and oh so true!]
- We admitted we were powerless over nothing. We could manage our lives perfectly and we could manage those of anyone else that would allow it.
- Came to believe that there was no power greater than ourselves, and the rest of the world was insane.
- Made a decision to have our loved ones and friends turn their wills and their lives over to our care.
- Made a searching and fearless moral inventory of everyone we knew.
- Admitted to the whole world at large the exact nature of their wrongs.
- Were entirely ready to make others straighten up and do right.
- Demanded others to either "shape up or ship out".
- Made a list of anyone who had ever harmed us and became willing to go to any lengths to get even with them all.
- Got direct revenge on such people whenever possible except when to do so would cost us our own lives, or at the very least, a jail sentence.
- Continued to take inventory of others, and when they were wrong promptly and repeatedly told them about it.
- Sought through nagging to improve our relations with others as we couldn't understand them at all, asking only that they knuckle under and do things our way.
- Having had a complete physical, emotional and spiritual breakdown as a result of these steps, we tried to blame it on others and to get sympathy and pity in all our affairs.
From The ACA Communicator - March 1990 - Omaha, Council Bluffs Area Intergroup
Tuesday, February 26, 2013
First Bite
Today I wanted to eat those little sugary frosted cookies they sell in the grocery stores for holidays. They are this beautiful floury sugary mush and I love them. It started when thinking of St. Patrick's Day and why we'd need a meeting marathon for that holiday. Then I thought of the cookies. And damn it I wanted one. Badly. I still want one and it's been 7 hours.
I tried all kinds of rationalizing. I said to myself, "[My Sponsor] doesn't need to know if I just ate one cookie. Or not even a full cookie but just a BITE of the cookie. That would be fine. Oh, and you know, I probably could manage one box of them without it impacting anything. The next day I'd be right back on the food plan and no one would need to be the wiser. I could just eat the cookies in the parking lot of the grocery store, toss the carton, toss the receipt, and no one would ever know."
Then that fucker who doesn't want me to enjoy a beautiful box of green frosted shamrock shaped cookies thought, "but that wouldn't be rigorous honesty, and rigorous honesty is how we got to peace." It then went on to remind me how happy I have felt lately. How much energy I have had to do chores and be attentive and playful with my son.
So I thought, "you know, I can just close my eyes and remember how they tasted and felt in my mouth. They can't take that away from me." [Because, you know, everyone in OA is conspiring against me and my cookies.] But it wasn't enough. I just wanted one bite of cookie. That was all I needed and I'd throw the box away, scout's honor. [Which is especially convenient since I was never a Girl Scout.]
And I had to go to the grocery store to pick up my husband's medicine. I thought, "I bet they don't even have those cookies yet. It's still February. They won't have them until March. I will just go and check and prove to myself that they aren't even there."
Well God was on my side today. [One of my daily outreach calls] felt bad we hadn't talked in a few days so she called me as I was in the car on the way to get my husband's medicine. I made it a point to stay on the phone with her the entire time I was in the store. Because I know if I see the cookies I'll buy them. If I take one bite of that cookie, I'd eat the whole box. Then I would raid the candy aisle. I saw the Starburst licorice sticks today and they looked amazing. I'd eat those next. Then some Mike & Ikes - I miss those. Then I'd keep grazing on sugar until I made myself ill. Ooh, then I'd hit the doughnuts and maybe get some more cookies. And I'd top it off with some garlic bread or maybe just get a whole big sourdough loaf thing and eat it with oil and balsamic vinegar. And Ding Dongs. I'd have to eat a box or two of those.
So really, I think it's easier to just not eat that first bite of cookie.
Tuesday, February 12, 2013
Relationship With God
This is an excerpt from a blog written by an incredible young woman named Sheila.
"Having a relationship with an infinite, all-knowing, all-powerful being who doesn't talk back is really, really hard.
This post is to summarize those things I do know about God. Some of them are things I know by instinct; others I have to remind myself over and over again, because there's a part of me that can't quite wrap my head around them. I find myself just defaulting to Jerk-God because the real God is just too puzzling to understand.
What do I know about God?
First, I know his definition. He is the creator of all things. That is what most people mean when they say "God." I tend to explain by saying that all things we know of in this world have a temporal beginning and a cause. But we know, because the universe is here at all, that something had to come behind all these causes -- something different, something that didn't have a temporal beginning or a cause. . . .
And when I look at the created world, really look at it, I feel like the person who made all these things is someone I would very much like. I mean, think about it. He could have created us like the plants, just needing some sunshine but never having to eat. But he made us able to bite into a juicy steak or crunchy apple. We could have reproduced by budding, but he gave us sex, pregnancy, birth -- things so weird and wonderful I sometimes imagine the trouble I would have explaining them to aliens. He didn't paint everything with a broad brush; every detail of creation is worked out perfectly, so that no microscope can see the infinitesimally small but absolutely organized structure of everything.
This comforts me more than anything. I know that Jerk-God could never create this wonder. Jerk-God would have had the world be so much less fun. Real God gave us a place we could really delight in, because he wanted us to be happy.
Someone who would go to the trouble of all that creating wasn't going to be happy just setting us on our way and letting us go. He wanted to have an actual relationship with us. Now I think we all know that it's impossible to have a real relationship that's forced in any way. God made us able to say no to him. . . .
This God is someone who is awfully eager to get to know us. . . .
I was struggling internally a few weeks ago with all this when [her son] started singing to himself. He sang a song from Mr. Rogers: "It's you I like, the way you are right now, way down deep inside you." I couldn't help but think, "If Mr. Rogers can love me just the way I am, what kind of person is God if he can't manage the same?"
It's hard to believe in this. It is so, so hard to believe that at the same moment a person could know everything about you, and I mean everything ... and at the same time love you. It's hard to believe that there could be a person who couldn't deceive or be deceived, who is pure unchanging truth ... and at the same time love you.
We tend to pick one or the other, love OR truth. Either God lies and says everything I do is a-okay and I never do anything wrong, in which case he can love me, or he sees the reality of what I am and the people I've hurt and the lies I've told, in which case he can't possibly love me. I think this is one of the mysteries of God that we'll never fully understand, how he can see us and our faults and still smile at us, the way I smile at my boys, and say, "I love you just the way you are, not later when you've earned it, but right now."
All of my spiritual life . . . has been a process of trying to be worthy, to be good enough. I feel that God has made a terrible mistake by loving me, and the only way to make it right is to try to be good enough so it won't be such a mistake. . . .
. . . I want to be a better person because everyone wants to be a better person, this is a good thing to do. But God isn't my personal trainer. Sometimes he might want to talk about other stuff besides how awful I am.
In fact, I think that, if he's anything like all the other people who love me, he doesn't like hearing about how awful I am. Think how you feel, if a person you love starts bashing themselves. You want to run in and yell, "Don't talk that way about the person I love!" Why wouldn't God be the same?
To understand God, I have to redefine my terms.
God loves me.
Old definition: God tolerates me and gives me things for no apparent reason, considering how much I suck.
New definition: God actually likes me, enjoys being with me, and sees all the good in me.
God wants me to be happy.
Old definition: I'd better do what God wants, even if it makes me miserable, because if I don't things are going to be even worse.
New definition: God wants me to be happy, and if I'm not, it isn't his doing. He hates seeing me suffer, and though he can't always rush in to fix everything, he really does care about my struggles.
. . .
If God is like this, I really do want to know him. Not because I feel guilty that he loves me so much and I've loved him so little in return. God can handle that. He wouldn't have created mankind if he couldn't take a little rejection, and anyway I actually do love God at least to some extent, so it's not like he's actually getting rejected by me. The reason I want to get to know God is because he seems like the sort of person I would like to know."
"Having a relationship with an infinite, all-knowing, all-powerful being who doesn't talk back is really, really hard.
This post is to summarize those things I do know about God. Some of them are things I know by instinct; others I have to remind myself over and over again, because there's a part of me that can't quite wrap my head around them. I find myself just defaulting to Jerk-God because the real God is just too puzzling to understand.
What do I know about God?
First, I know his definition. He is the creator of all things. That is what most people mean when they say "God." I tend to explain by saying that all things we know of in this world have a temporal beginning and a cause. But we know, because the universe is here at all, that something had to come behind all these causes -- something different, something that didn't have a temporal beginning or a cause. . . .
And when I look at the created world, really look at it, I feel like the person who made all these things is someone I would very much like. I mean, think about it. He could have created us like the plants, just needing some sunshine but never having to eat. But he made us able to bite into a juicy steak or crunchy apple. We could have reproduced by budding, but he gave us sex, pregnancy, birth -- things so weird and wonderful I sometimes imagine the trouble I would have explaining them to aliens. He didn't paint everything with a broad brush; every detail of creation is worked out perfectly, so that no microscope can see the infinitesimally small but absolutely organized structure of everything.
This comforts me more than anything. I know that Jerk-God could never create this wonder. Jerk-God would have had the world be so much less fun. Real God gave us a place we could really delight in, because he wanted us to be happy.
Someone who would go to the trouble of all that creating wasn't going to be happy just setting us on our way and letting us go. He wanted to have an actual relationship with us. Now I think we all know that it's impossible to have a real relationship that's forced in any way. God made us able to say no to him. . . .
This God is someone who is awfully eager to get to know us. . . .
I was struggling internally a few weeks ago with all this when [her son] started singing to himself. He sang a song from Mr. Rogers: "It's you I like, the way you are right now, way down deep inside you." I couldn't help but think, "If Mr. Rogers can love me just the way I am, what kind of person is God if he can't manage the same?"
It's hard to believe in this. It is so, so hard to believe that at the same moment a person could know everything about you, and I mean everything ... and at the same time love you. It's hard to believe that there could be a person who couldn't deceive or be deceived, who is pure unchanging truth ... and at the same time love you.
We tend to pick one or the other, love OR truth. Either God lies and says everything I do is a-okay and I never do anything wrong, in which case he can love me, or he sees the reality of what I am and the people I've hurt and the lies I've told, in which case he can't possibly love me. I think this is one of the mysteries of God that we'll never fully understand, how he can see us and our faults and still smile at us, the way I smile at my boys, and say, "I love you just the way you are, not later when you've earned it, but right now."
All of my spiritual life . . . has been a process of trying to be worthy, to be good enough. I feel that God has made a terrible mistake by loving me, and the only way to make it right is to try to be good enough so it won't be such a mistake. . . .
. . . I want to be a better person because everyone wants to be a better person, this is a good thing to do. But God isn't my personal trainer. Sometimes he might want to talk about other stuff besides how awful I am.
In fact, I think that, if he's anything like all the other people who love me, he doesn't like hearing about how awful I am. Think how you feel, if a person you love starts bashing themselves. You want to run in and yell, "Don't talk that way about the person I love!" Why wouldn't God be the same?
To understand God, I have to redefine my terms.
God loves me.
Old definition: God tolerates me and gives me things for no apparent reason, considering how much I suck.
New definition: God actually likes me, enjoys being with me, and sees all the good in me.
God wants me to be happy.
Old definition: I'd better do what God wants, even if it makes me miserable, because if I don't things are going to be even worse.
New definition: God wants me to be happy, and if I'm not, it isn't his doing. He hates seeing me suffer, and though he can't always rush in to fix everything, he really does care about my struggles.
. . .
If God is like this, I really do want to know him. Not because I feel guilty that he loves me so much and I've loved him so little in return. God can handle that. He wouldn't have created mankind if he couldn't take a little rejection, and anyway I actually do love God at least to some extent, so it's not like he's actually getting rejected by me. The reason I want to get to know God is because he seems like the sort of person I would like to know."
Step One, Question 1, Page 1
I think it's time I take the plunge and start writing on the first question in the workbook. It has been sitting on my desk, open to that page, for weeks. I will begin working the steps with my sponsor this week and I have some time before bed to do a bit of work, so here goes nothing (or perhaps, everything)!
1. "In OA we are encouraged to take a good look at our compulsive eating, obesity, and the self-destructive things we have done to avoid obesity - the dieting, starving, over-exercising, or purging." Here is a First-Step inventory of my compulsive eating history.
A lot of my early compulsive eating is blurred by the haze of the sugar high. Or perhaps I should say "glaze". I remember not being allowed sweets because my mom was worried about my weight. It wasn't consistently enforced, though. It was like her own warring opinions on whether she could eat sweets spilled over into what she permitted me to eat. But here are a few compulsive overeating memories:
I would sneak into the pantry when people were busy/sleeping/away to steal food. My favorites were fruit snacks and granola bars. The best was the "Fruit O's" from Costco - fruit snacks in a huge container from Costco. I knew I could take one or two of those a day without being caught. Granola bars were another love, but I knew I had to take those slow. I would take one bar a day. There was a very strict order to how I ate my closet foods: 2 Fruit O's, 1 granola bar, 1 of this, 1 of that. It depended on what we had at the time. Gold fish had to be smuggled one handful at a time. If the container went missing I would get caught and I'd either get lectured or in actual trouble. The number of items became just as important as the theft of the food and it's consumption. No matter how much or how often I smuggled, I always wanted more. It called to me and I craved it, but I knew I had to wait until the next day or they'd notice the food was disappearing too fast. Thankfully my brother was assumed to be the one doing the eating. Eventually he hid the food in his room to keep me out, which upped the stakes. I only could sneak in maybe once a week to get the food then. Even now, when I go to fast food restaurants, I find that I get a list of foods I want: 1 of A, 1 of B, 1 of C, 1 of D - the ordering of the food is part of the ritual, even when I ordered far more than I could possibly consume.
I remember being excited about the food come the holidays. It was the one day I knew my mom wouldn't chase me about how much I ate - until the car ride home when both parents would scold me in front of my brother. I would make the obligatory round of hugs and then settle next to the appetizer table. I would eat non-stop until dinner. Then I'd eat a plate of two of food at dinner, maybe sneak back for more appetizers. Then I'd get one of everything offered for desert, after I snuck in plenty of cookies, fudge, and whatever else was sitting out for deserts. The sad truth is: I can't remember much about the holidays other than eating and hoping my parents weren't watching how much I was putting into my mouth and body.
In elementary school I used to offer to put anything people wanted to give me into my yogurt to eat it. I wanted the food, so even if they put tuna salad in my cherry yogurt, I'd take it. Mostly it was things like Oreo cookies [yum] or half eaten sandwiches. I ate anything people wanted to throw out. I never fished in the school trash cans [although I did in the kitchen trash can at home] but I was a mini garbage disposal for anything and everything no one wanted. My friends eventually started bringing extra food for me.
In college I remember thinking constantly about food. Classes were the things I did between meal times. I loved the cafeterias because I could get as many plates as I wanted, and if I went alone I didn't have to worry about anyone following me. Mostly I didn't think about people watching me eat then. I was out of the sight of my parents, which to me meant I was out of the sight of everyone. I frequented the vending machines in my building - I think I stopped on the way to and from every class for something, usually those little doughnuts. Once I had a car, my food adventures were usually in the form of 4 or 5 large meals a day at fast food as well as the dining halls. I went every Tuesday to a Thai food restaurant where I ate until the point of pain. I also always had snacks in my room to nibble on between meals. This part is a bit fuzzy, because I didn't pay a lot of attention to what I was eating when. I have always been a grazer so I had meals I paid attention to, and meals where I just grazed along without paying attention to what I was eating.
In grad school I think I lived on pizza, sub sandwiches and chips, and fast food (including an awesome fast food Italian restaurant that had cheese covered baked lasagna that I would eat with garlic bread sticks - carbheaven hell.) I ate huge quantities of food, including in the middle of the night while studying. I would go to IHOP, order 2 or 3 meals and eat it all before I left.
After grad school I got the gastric bypass stomach surgery, which severely limited my ability to binge. They literally sewed off part of my stomach and rerouted my intestines. So once I was recovered enough to eat normal foods, I would still go to the restaurants and order all my food. The ritual was still in place. I just ended up throwing out most of it. I would eat a bite or two of everything and make myself ill, but I would do my best. I often grazed on my meal all day long - one monstrous breakfast-lunch-dinner mishmash of a meal. Eventually I managed to eat back on most of my weight since there was nothing that caused the infamous "dumping syndrome" for me.
When I joined OA, I had gained back some - but not all - of my gastric bypass weight loss. I gave up certain "trigger foods" but binged freely on the others. It was retaliatory binging. I took away french fries? Then doughnuts it was! I took out doughnuts next, then I went to those little fruit-jelly filled pies and cookies. Eventually I gave up and went back to before. Then I came back and tried it again - with the same results as before. Before I started with my current sponsor I had a two week long binge that was pure hell [described here]. And I haven't compulsively overeaten since.
Now to move on to the memories involving restricting/anorexia/bulimia:
These three were always lumped together for me. I remember in second or third grade hearing my mom talk about how she dieted as a kid: hard boiled egg for breakfast, and she kept lunch and dinner each under 200 calories. So I did the same. It stunted my growth and I stopped growing at age 10.
In sixth grade I started the anorexia. I would skip every meal I could get away with. It was not that hard to get away with: I would tell friends that I was eating at home, and family that I ate with friends. No one paid attention to what I ate at school, so I didn't have to worry there. Sometimes I ate at school because I liked the food, but it depended on the day. I think it got bad when I was between sixth and seventh grade, actually. During the summer months. When I had to eat dinner with my family, I'd squirrel the food into my cheeks and spit it out into napkins [because I wasn't smart enough to think that people would notice]. I just pretended it was gristle. My mom wasn't inclined to feed me sweets, so that was never a problem. When I couldn't get away with the gristle ruse, I'd rush to the bathroom and spit out the food in my squirrel cheeks. My parents obviously knew what was going on but chose to do nothing about it. Eventually my friends at school held me down at lunch time and force fed me. Once I was eating it seemed that this phase of my life had ended.
Bulimia became something that popped up intermittently with my binges. I can't really remember much about the bulimia, except that it took me a while to figure out how to make me puke since my gag reflex isn't very sensitive. After my weight loss surgery I was lucky that as soon as I overate I would need to vomit. So the purge just took a few extra bites of food and out it would come. I often used that route to get more food, but sometimes it was a way to clear the binge.
Eventually I would alternate as an adult between binge, purge, and restricting days.
Compulsive exercising hit me around eighth grade. I wanted to be skinny so I signed up for every sport my school offered, including cross country. Later I ran for the love of running, but at first it was all about the burning of calories. In grad school I exercised five to seven days a week as a means of telling myself that I was working on my weight and clearly it wasn't my fault that I was fat.
I can honestly say I've tried just about every diet over the years: calorie counting, Jenny Craig, Weight Watchers, South Beach, Atkins, HMR, Liquid Only, Slim Fast, Lean Cuisine, not eating after 6/8/10pm, skipping breakfast, eating no breads, eating no dairy, eating no red meat, vegetarian, alcohol only, eating no pasta, eating no snacks, eating five small meals, etc.
1. "In OA we are encouraged to take a good look at our compulsive eating, obesity, and the self-destructive things we have done to avoid obesity - the dieting, starving, over-exercising, or purging." Here is a First-Step inventory of my compulsive eating history.
A lot of my early compulsive eating is blurred by the haze of the sugar high. Or perhaps I should say "glaze". I remember not being allowed sweets because my mom was worried about my weight. It wasn't consistently enforced, though. It was like her own warring opinions on whether she could eat sweets spilled over into what she permitted me to eat. But here are a few compulsive overeating memories:
I would sneak into the pantry when people were busy/sleeping/away to steal food. My favorites were fruit snacks and granola bars. The best was the "Fruit O's" from Costco - fruit snacks in a huge container from Costco. I knew I could take one or two of those a day without being caught. Granola bars were another love, but I knew I had to take those slow. I would take one bar a day. There was a very strict order to how I ate my closet foods: 2 Fruit O's, 1 granola bar, 1 of this, 1 of that. It depended on what we had at the time. Gold fish had to be smuggled one handful at a time. If the container went missing I would get caught and I'd either get lectured or in actual trouble. The number of items became just as important as the theft of the food and it's consumption. No matter how much or how often I smuggled, I always wanted more. It called to me and I craved it, but I knew I had to wait until the next day or they'd notice the food was disappearing too fast. Thankfully my brother was assumed to be the one doing the eating. Eventually he hid the food in his room to keep me out, which upped the stakes. I only could sneak in maybe once a week to get the food then. Even now, when I go to fast food restaurants, I find that I get a list of foods I want: 1 of A, 1 of B, 1 of C, 1 of D - the ordering of the food is part of the ritual, even when I ordered far more than I could possibly consume.
I remember being excited about the food come the holidays. It was the one day I knew my mom wouldn't chase me about how much I ate - until the car ride home when both parents would scold me in front of my brother. I would make the obligatory round of hugs and then settle next to the appetizer table. I would eat non-stop until dinner. Then I'd eat a plate of two of food at dinner, maybe sneak back for more appetizers. Then I'd get one of everything offered for desert, after I snuck in plenty of cookies, fudge, and whatever else was sitting out for deserts. The sad truth is: I can't remember much about the holidays other than eating and hoping my parents weren't watching how much I was putting into my mouth and body.
In elementary school I used to offer to put anything people wanted to give me into my yogurt to eat it. I wanted the food, so even if they put tuna salad in my cherry yogurt, I'd take it. Mostly it was things like Oreo cookies [yum] or half eaten sandwiches. I ate anything people wanted to throw out. I never fished in the school trash cans [although I did in the kitchen trash can at home] but I was a mini garbage disposal for anything and everything no one wanted. My friends eventually started bringing extra food for me.
In college I remember thinking constantly about food. Classes were the things I did between meal times. I loved the cafeterias because I could get as many plates as I wanted, and if I went alone I didn't have to worry about anyone following me. Mostly I didn't think about people watching me eat then. I was out of the sight of my parents, which to me meant I was out of the sight of everyone. I frequented the vending machines in my building - I think I stopped on the way to and from every class for something, usually those little doughnuts. Once I had a car, my food adventures were usually in the form of 4 or 5 large meals a day at fast food as well as the dining halls. I went every Tuesday to a Thai food restaurant where I ate until the point of pain. I also always had snacks in my room to nibble on between meals. This part is a bit fuzzy, because I didn't pay a lot of attention to what I was eating when. I have always been a grazer so I had meals I paid attention to, and meals where I just grazed along without paying attention to what I was eating.
In grad school I think I lived on pizza, sub sandwiches and chips, and fast food (including an awesome fast food Italian restaurant that had cheese covered baked lasagna that I would eat with garlic bread sticks - carb
After grad school I got the gastric bypass stomach surgery, which severely limited my ability to binge. They literally sewed off part of my stomach and rerouted my intestines. So once I was recovered enough to eat normal foods, I would still go to the restaurants and order all my food. The ritual was still in place. I just ended up throwing out most of it. I would eat a bite or two of everything and make myself ill, but I would do my best. I often grazed on my meal all day long - one monstrous breakfast-lunch-dinner mishmash of a meal. Eventually I managed to eat back on most of my weight since there was nothing that caused the infamous "dumping syndrome" for me.
When I joined OA, I had gained back some - but not all - of my gastric bypass weight loss. I gave up certain "trigger foods" but binged freely on the others. It was retaliatory binging. I took away french fries? Then doughnuts it was! I took out doughnuts next, then I went to those little fruit-jelly filled pies and cookies. Eventually I gave up and went back to before. Then I came back and tried it again - with the same results as before. Before I started with my current sponsor I had a two week long binge that was pure hell [described here]. And I haven't compulsively overeaten since.
Now to move on to the memories involving restricting/anorexia/bulimia:
These three were always lumped together for me. I remember in second or third grade hearing my mom talk about how she dieted as a kid: hard boiled egg for breakfast, and she kept lunch and dinner each under 200 calories. So I did the same. It stunted my growth and I stopped growing at age 10.
In sixth grade I started the anorexia. I would skip every meal I could get away with. It was not that hard to get away with: I would tell friends that I was eating at home, and family that I ate with friends. No one paid attention to what I ate at school, so I didn't have to worry there. Sometimes I ate at school because I liked the food, but it depended on the day. I think it got bad when I was between sixth and seventh grade, actually. During the summer months. When I had to eat dinner with my family, I'd squirrel the food into my cheeks and spit it out into napkins [because I wasn't smart enough to think that people would notice]. I just pretended it was gristle. My mom wasn't inclined to feed me sweets, so that was never a problem. When I couldn't get away with the gristle ruse, I'd rush to the bathroom and spit out the food in my squirrel cheeks. My parents obviously knew what was going on but chose to do nothing about it. Eventually my friends at school held me down at lunch time and force fed me. Once I was eating it seemed that this phase of my life had ended.
Bulimia became something that popped up intermittently with my binges. I can't really remember much about the bulimia, except that it took me a while to figure out how to make me puke since my gag reflex isn't very sensitive. After my weight loss surgery I was lucky that as soon as I overate I would need to vomit. So the purge just took a few extra bites of food and out it would come. I often used that route to get more food, but sometimes it was a way to clear the binge.
Eventually I would alternate as an adult between binge, purge, and restricting days.
Compulsive exercising hit me around eighth grade. I wanted to be skinny so I signed up for every sport my school offered, including cross country. Later I ran for the love of running, but at first it was all about the burning of calories. In grad school I exercised five to seven days a week as a means of telling myself that I was working on my weight and clearly it wasn't my fault that I was fat.
I can honestly say I've tried just about every diet over the years: calorie counting, Jenny Craig, Weight Watchers, South Beach, Atkins, HMR, Liquid Only, Slim Fast, Lean Cuisine, not eating after 6/8/10pm, skipping breakfast, eating no breads, eating no dairy, eating no red meat, vegetarian, alcohol only, eating no pasta, eating no snacks, eating five small meals, etc.
Friday, February 8, 2013
Working the Vowels
So I saw something great on MrSponsorpants that was wonderful and wanted to share it here! This is only part of his post on working the 10th Step
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
So the quick outline that is both about what I'm doing right and what need to do differently is this:
A, E, I, O, U, and 'sometimes Y' -- Just like we learned the vowels in school. It stands for:
A - A for [Abstinence].
What am I doing/did I do to address my [compulsive overeating] today. Go to a meeting? Talk with my sponsor? Work on an inventory?
E - E for Exercise.
The AA Slogan H.A.L.T., (Hungry, Angry, Lonely and Tired), just underscores how keeping our body chemistry balanced helps us maintain our emotional and spiritual equilibrium. So E is for Exercise, as in, did I do any today? If not, then I note that down (and I mean real exercise) so that I can over the course of a week look back and go, "Wow, I had planned on doing "X" every day but I really only did it twice this week..." -- or, on the other hand maybe note that "Wow, it's Friday, and I have done real exercise every day this week. Go Me!"
Now look, noting if I did or did not do any exercise is a bit of a stretch to call a part of "continuing to take personal inventory and when wrong, promptly admit it", I know that -- but honestly, I've found when I keep my body chemistry balanced (H.A.L.T. and the exercise piece) then I'm more able to be on my game for the "promptly admit it" part, and the "spot check throughout the day."
I - I for me, myself.
What did I do to take care of myself today? This is really broad, and sometimes nothing comes to mind one way or another, but for me this is about healthy self care -- setting boundaries, etc. -- beyond the straight-up 12 Step work in the "A" above. For example, did I take care of myself by making sure I took a real lunch break at work, or did I not put off buying that card and getting it in the mail so I'm not all panicky, or did I make a special effort not to deflect compliments, or was I especially good about keeping to my mediation routine ... anything substantive that underscores the "not only in Red Ink" part of my daily inventory.
O - for Others -- where was I of service?
And for me I regard this as 'Where was I of 12 Step-type service'? Not some bullshit "I didn't yell at any salesclerks today" stuff -- more along the lines of meeting with sponsees, or calling some Program peeps to see how they're doing, or performing my service commitment at a meeting, that kind of thing.
U - Uncover -- what is that thing that I don't want to think about?
I need to write it here. It's not a promise that I will immediately do something about it, but it's about not sliding into denial or anything. Like if I need to call the IRS and I haven't, or I keep putting the scary bills in a drawer and not opening them, or something. I just note it here, so that eventually it's in my consciousness enough that I can become willing to do something about it.
'and Sometimes Y' - for "Yahoo!" (the emotion, not the web service) as in, something especially fun that I'm looking forward to -- the hot date, the concert, the theater tickets -- This is the thing that makes life fun, and can be a building block to some gratitude for the abundance in my life.
So in practice what I've done is simply written them down the left side of a page, "A, E, I, O, U and sometimes Y" and then written the 'answer' in next to them -- sometimes I've done it in the morning as kind of a To Do List, left it on my dresser and gone about my day, and then wrote it again the same night to see if I followed through. I like this because it covers the "whole" me but has a real focus on life through a 12 Step lens. It's a little bit "cutesy" I admit it. Works though.
Finally, the aeiou thing is not in the literature specifically, but I've used it on and off forever because I think it encompasses the whole spirit of the 10th Step, the good and bad, etc. Especially once you are in the real habit of 'cleaning as you go' (the 'Spot Check' part of the 10th Step) and don't have a lot of mental, emotional or behavioral trash to clean up at the end of every day.
Tuesday, February 5, 2013
A Conversation With My Disease
Disease: Your addiction is much worse than that of the alcoholic! You can live without alcohol, but not without food!
Me: You can live without alcoholic foods like flour and sugar, too. You can live without flour and sugar, but not without fluids to drink!
Disease: But flour and sugar are so much more pervasive than alcohol!
Me: Are you sure about that? How many social events do you go to where there are no alcoholic beverages? That toast at midnight on New Years Eve. Wine or beer with Thanksgiving dinner. Eggnog or mulled wine for Christmas. Going out for drinks with coworkers. Going to the bar to celebrate a promotion. All of those things involve alcohol. You can't even go out to dinner without having the drink menu being offered to you.
Disease: Yeah, I guess that's true. But people really push when you don't want to eat sugar or flour foods! They don't understand that you can't have them.
Me: They push when you don't want to drink too.
Disease: So maybe I'm not so different from the alcoholic, but I certainly am different from the narcotic addict! Their fix isn't even legal!
Me: That is true, but what about prescription medicine?
Disease: What about it?
Me: Narcotic addicts are going to need aspirin, antibiotics, and cold medicine just like the rest of us. Some of these medicines they are going to need to live every much as we need food to live. They need to learn to take their medications at proper intervals just like we need to learn to take meals at proper intervals.
Disease: I don't think that's the same thing at all!
Me: Are you sure about that? Once we have taken out the alcoholic foods from our meal plans, we need to focus on taking our food at proper intervals. Like us, now that the narcotics addict has taken out the illegal narcotics from their lives, they need to focus on learning to take pharmaceuticals at proper intervals. It seems like a pretty clear connection to me!
Disease: Fine. You win for now. I'm going to sit in the corner petulantly until you aren't paying attention again. Then you better watch out, because I'm going to catch you when you least expect it!
Me: My Higher Power and I will see you then.
Me: You can live without alcoholic foods like flour and sugar, too. You can live without flour and sugar, but not without fluids to drink!
Disease: But flour and sugar are so much more pervasive than alcohol!
Me: Are you sure about that? How many social events do you go to where there are no alcoholic beverages? That toast at midnight on New Years Eve. Wine or beer with Thanksgiving dinner. Eggnog or mulled wine for Christmas. Going out for drinks with coworkers. Going to the bar to celebrate a promotion. All of those things involve alcohol. You can't even go out to dinner without having the drink menu being offered to you.
Disease: Yeah, I guess that's true. But people really push when you don't want to eat sugar or flour foods! They don't understand that you can't have them.
Me: They push when you don't want to drink too.
Disease: So maybe I'm not so different from the alcoholic, but I certainly am different from the narcotic addict! Their fix isn't even legal!
Me: That is true, but what about prescription medicine?
Disease: What about it?
Me: Narcotic addicts are going to need aspirin, antibiotics, and cold medicine just like the rest of us. Some of these medicines they are going to need to live every much as we need food to live. They need to learn to take their medications at proper intervals just like we need to learn to take meals at proper intervals.
Disease: I don't think that's the same thing at all!
Me: Are you sure about that? Once we have taken out the alcoholic foods from our meal plans, we need to focus on taking our food at proper intervals. Like us, now that the narcotics addict has taken out the illegal narcotics from their lives, they need to focus on learning to take pharmaceuticals at proper intervals. It seems like a pretty clear connection to me!
Disease: Fine. You win for now. I'm going to sit in the corner petulantly until you aren't paying attention again. Then you better watch out, because I'm going to catch you when you least expect it!
Me: My Higher Power and I will see you then.
Wednesday, December 19, 2012
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.
"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.
Friday, November 23, 2012
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.
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.
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