12 Steps to Total and Complete Insanity

[A spoof on the 12 Steps of Alcoholics Anonymous. . .and oh so true!] 

1. 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.
   
   
2. Came to believe that there was no power greater than ourselves, and the rest of the world was insane.
   
   
3. Made a decision to have our loved ones and friends turn their wills and their lives over to our care.
   
   
4. Made a searching and fearless moral inventory of everyone we knew.
   
   
5. Admitted to the whole world at large the exact nature of their wrongs.
   
   
6. Were entirely ready to make others straighten up and do right.
   
   
7. Demanded others to either "shape up or ship out".
   
   
8. Made a list of anyone who had ever harmed us and became willing to go to any lengths to get even with them all.
   
   
9. 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.
   
10. Continued to take inventory of others, and when they were wrong promptly and repeatedly told them about it.
    
11. 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.
    
12. 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

Staying On The Train

The Fix

I am sad to say that when I am looking for guru style inspiration, I turn to my favorite blog for a fix.  I love the Big Book and the literature, but there is something a slight bit naughty about finding inspiration in "non-approved literature".  It sounds like something that I should be reading with a flashlight under my covers at night! Only in this case it is a blog by a man who has been over 20 years sober in AA.

The thing I love about speaker meetings is that I almost invariably go away with one sentence that is going to pop back in my head when I most need it.  I heard one speaker refer to these as "God shots" - and he always waited to hear his God shot of the day. [See what I did there?] 

I have learned in my brief time in program that the people with years of abstinence have been absorbing years of God shots that they drop like bread crumbs for us newbies to follow.  Which points out two things: 1) how important it is to have these old timers around to help us youngins, and 2) just how badass and awesome I am going to sound in a few years when I can drop these stolen borrowed gems of wisdom in meetings and blow the minds of the newcomers.

My God shot today came after a discussion with a family friend who is going on 22 years sober in AA.  We were talking about the tendency to replace our addictions.  So of course, up pops a blog entry dealing with the same subject.  The post is about what old timers mean when they say The Road Gets Narrower, and here is the quote that stood out to me:

"When it comes to "fixing" here's the secret, and I learned it the hard way: I will never be able to change how I feel by trying to take something in. I will never be able to let go of the fear or the resentment by consuming -- be it food or goods or people. I cannot fill the hole inside by taking things in -- the only way to shrink the hole is to reverse the flow. It's by giving (of myself, of my time, or my experience, to help others) that I am healed and literally "fixed", that I am filled -- not by taking in."  - Mr. Sponsorpants

The Disease of More

"'When you eat one, you want more,
then two, then three, then pretty soon four.'" - A New Beginning, page 4

I heard at meeting once that we are suffering from a disease of more.  We want more food, more happiness, more attention, more perfection, more love, more respect, more more more.  But one thing I desperately wanted more of was peace and serenity, and I knew that there was no way for me to reconcile that desire with the desire for more food.  So the food had to go.  But that was easier said than done!

One of the biggest impediments to my abstinence, however, was always the fact that I could see others eat sugar and fast food and pizza and all those other things I loved with impunity.  But Dr. Bob worded it best: "I used to get terribly upset when I saw my friends [eat junk food] and knew I could not, but I schooled myself to believe that though I once had the same privilege, I had abused it so frightfully that it was withdrawn.  So it doesn't behoove me to squawk about it for, after all, nobody ever had to throw me down and pour [sugar] down my throat." - The Big Book, page 181 (Dr. Bob's Nightmare)

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.

The Oatmeal Wars

When I did my thirty day weigh in, I discovered I'd lost 16.6 pounds.  My husband, seeing the results, announced that he would follow my diet as well to lose some of the weight he has gained.  I am obviously supportive.  In the past two years he has gained thirty pounds, and he was already about thirty pounds overweight then.  He went from a size L to a size 2X. 

The problem is, his interpretation of "follow my diet" is have me prepare his meals for him.  There are some aspects I don't mind.  For instance, I was already packaging up the chicken and rice into correct sized servings.  It was not difficult to place them together in a tupperware container for his lunch.  (Although the principle that he is unwilling to measure his own meat and rice does bother me.)

But he won't make oatmeal in the morning.  The process of oatmeal is as follows: add 2 cups water to 1 cup oatmeal in a bowl.  Microwave 2 minutes. Stir.  Microwave 1 minute.  Stir.  Let it cool. Add banana. Eat.  That is too much for him to manage in the morning.  Instead, he wants to drive to McDonald's and get an Egg McMuffin.  I will agree - an Egg McMuffin is far tastier than unseasoned oatmeal sans milk.  But he acts as though he is saving huge quantities of time by waiting in line for the drive-thru.  It takes about ten minutes to get the food and get to work.  He is not saving any time by avoiding the oatmeal, and he is spending more money than he needs to (and we are most certainly on a tight budget).

The part that upsets me about this is how much pressure he has placed on my shoulders to make sure he has his food.  If I don't have his lunch packed for him and I don't have his oatmeal made for him, then he's going to not be able to follow the diet (heaven forbid he should drive four blocks to El Pollo Loco at lunch to get his own chicken) and will continue to gain weight and move closer and closer to the diabetes that runs in his family.

So I will be praying to my higher power tonight to help with this resentment.  I am going to see this as my service to him, and part of making amends for all the times I am snippy with him.  Hopefully that helps.

Old Timer's Prayer

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

OLD TIMER'S PRAYER

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

God's Messengers

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

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

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

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

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

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.

Resentment

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Preface - xvi to xxi

Foreword to Second Edition

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

See above.

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

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

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

I am seeking a spiritual remedy for my malady.

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

See above.

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

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

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

Preface - xi to xv

Preface pages xi to xv:

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

Foreword to First Edition

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Foreword to Second Edition

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

Same thoughts as previous statement.