Writing Multiple Fourth Steps

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.

God and the Willingness to be Willing

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A REALLY Bad Day

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

 

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

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

 

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

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

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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