Monday, February 25, 2013
Thursday, February 21, 2013
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 thesestolen 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 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
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
Wednesday, February 20, 2013
Saturday, February 16, 2013
Knowing How To Listen
Lately I've found that God has been talking to me quite regularly. Not in the literal "I hear God's voice and he told me that he likes cats and cheeseburgers" kind of way, but in the more subtle way that I think he's always tried to speak to me. I just didn't know how to listen.
A few months ago, before I'd even started to contemplate sending my son to preschool, the manager at my grocery store noticed I was buying baby food and mentioned how amazing this one local preschool was. I smiled, thanked him, and waited patiently as he wrote down the name for me. I saved the piece of paper but it was out-of-sight-out-of-mind. Last week, I decided it was about time to do something about that preschool issue. Knowing my brother is one to research everything, I asked where he took my niece for preschool. He said not to send my son to that preschool - the other parents around there are pretty awful but they didn't discover that until my niece had already made friends and they didn't want her to be forced to make new friends at a different preschool. So my sister-in-law told me about the same preschool as the manager of the grocery store!
I call the program and ask for more information. I am now scheduled for a Valentine's Day tour of the school at 10am. While looking at the paperwork she sent me, I thought that the school was probably a bit more money than I wanted to spend. After discussion, my husband agreed. But instead of calling to cancel my spot at the tour I decided to check the school out just in case. I didn't know why I wanted to bother - I'd already decided against it - but I listened to my instinct and went.
I didn't just like the school, I loved the school. Hell, I want to be 2 years old to start with their itty bitty preschool program too! I told my husband what I saw and he was as excited as I was. So we got all the paperwork filled out and turned in. It's in God's hands now whether they take my son. If not this year, then maybe next year!
After the tour of the preschool, I was scheduled to moderate a phone meeting for OA. We were holding a Valentine's Day marathon. The topic was the love of others, so after some thought I decided to pass along the Big Book pages my sponsor assigns for dealing with resentment [the condensed chunk is pages 60-62, 66-67, 417 and 552]. I wasn't sure how the meeting went because only four people were sharing. I'd gotten good stuff out of the meeting, but shrugged and decided that having been of service was good enough for me.
I went to get dinner for my husband and I at my usual drive-thru. For whatever reason, they didn't hear me order my husband's food. So I went to another drive-thru that my husband likes [and isn't abstinent for me] to get him food. Had I been listening, I would have broken one of the twenties in my wallet because I didn't have smaller change for my meeting that night! I had two chances to break that twenty, but I didn't take it!
Later that night [after all the submitting of forms and getting other forms to the doctor's office etc. etc. etc.] I went to meet my sponsor in a farther off meeting. While in the car, the songs on the radio were all ones that I didn't particularly care for. So I switched from station to station to station looking for something to listen to. Finally, I thought about the marathon of meetings. Smiling, I called in. The second share after I signed into the phone meeting was from a woman who had attended my earlier meeting. She mentioned in passing how it had been exactly what she needed to hear and she said it was a wonderful meeting. The woman didn't know I was in call, so this was a huge compliment. It made me feel so much better.
I attended meeting, ended up giving $12 because I hadn't gotten change for that $20 earlier [I figure that will be my contribution for the next few phone meetings - they ask you to give double at your next meeting]. After the meeting, I followed my sponsor to our abstinent restaurant to do some step work in the Big Book. On the drive, I kept thinking about what I was going to do for the marathon meeting I was going to be leading on Monday. Our President's Day theme is service. As my sponsor took me through the preface and forwards, she had me write "service" in the margins next to every portion which discussed the work people did to grow the fellowship and carry the message on - pointing out that these people did this to stay sober. I didn't tell her about the prompt, this just was what she wanted me to be getting from those pages. And on the way home, I smiled and thanked God.
So I attended a tour that I didn't otherwise want to go on because of a hunch - and God showed me that this is where I should send my son. Thank you for giving me an open mind, God!
I was concerned that I hadn't done a good job on my meeting, so God nudges me into the phone call in time to hear one of the women in my call share with others how wonderful my meeting had been. Thank you for allowing me to hear that, God!
You tried to remind me to break that $20. I'm sorry I wasn't listening, God.
I asked you for help preparing for a meeting. Thank you for showing me the way through my sponsor, God!
I never used to believe in a Higher Power that cared about what I was doing or what happened to me. The trick was just knowing how to listen!
A few months ago, before I'd even started to contemplate sending my son to preschool, the manager at my grocery store noticed I was buying baby food and mentioned how amazing this one local preschool was. I smiled, thanked him, and waited patiently as he wrote down the name for me. I saved the piece of paper but it was out-of-sight-out-of-mind. Last week, I decided it was about time to do something about that preschool issue. Knowing my brother is one to research everything, I asked where he took my niece for preschool. He said not to send my son to that preschool - the other parents around there are pretty awful but they didn't discover that until my niece had already made friends and they didn't want her to be forced to make new friends at a different preschool. So my sister-in-law told me about the same preschool as the manager of the grocery store!
I call the program and ask for more information. I am now scheduled for a Valentine's Day tour of the school at 10am. While looking at the paperwork she sent me, I thought that the school was probably a bit more money than I wanted to spend. After discussion, my husband agreed. But instead of calling to cancel my spot at the tour I decided to check the school out just in case. I didn't know why I wanted to bother - I'd already decided against it - but I listened to my instinct and went.
I didn't just like the school, I loved the school. Hell, I want to be 2 years old to start with their itty bitty preschool program too! I told my husband what I saw and he was as excited as I was. So we got all the paperwork filled out and turned in. It's in God's hands now whether they take my son. If not this year, then maybe next year!
After the tour of the preschool, I was scheduled to moderate a phone meeting for OA. We were holding a Valentine's Day marathon. The topic was the love of others, so after some thought I decided to pass along the Big Book pages my sponsor assigns for dealing with resentment [the condensed chunk is pages 60-62, 66-67, 417 and 552]. I wasn't sure how the meeting went because only four people were sharing. I'd gotten good stuff out of the meeting, but shrugged and decided that having been of service was good enough for me.
I went to get dinner for my husband and I at my usual drive-thru. For whatever reason, they didn't hear me order my husband's food. So I went to another drive-thru that my husband likes [and isn't abstinent for me] to get him food. Had I been listening, I would have broken one of the twenties in my wallet because I didn't have smaller change for my meeting that night! I had two chances to break that twenty, but I didn't take it!
Later that night [after all the submitting of forms and getting other forms to the doctor's office etc. etc. etc.] I went to meet my sponsor in a farther off meeting. While in the car, the songs on the radio were all ones that I didn't particularly care for. So I switched from station to station to station looking for something to listen to. Finally, I thought about the marathon of meetings. Smiling, I called in. The second share after I signed into the phone meeting was from a woman who had attended my earlier meeting. She mentioned in passing how it had been exactly what she needed to hear and she said it was a wonderful meeting. The woman didn't know I was in call, so this was a huge compliment. It made me feel so much better.
I attended meeting, ended up giving $12 because I hadn't gotten change for that $20 earlier [I figure that will be my contribution for the next few phone meetings - they ask you to give double at your next meeting]. After the meeting, I followed my sponsor to our abstinent restaurant to do some step work in the Big Book. On the drive, I kept thinking about what I was going to do for the marathon meeting I was going to be leading on Monday. Our President's Day theme is service. As my sponsor took me through the preface and forwards, she had me write "service" in the margins next to every portion which discussed the work people did to grow the fellowship and carry the message on - pointing out that these people did this to stay sober. I didn't tell her about the prompt, this just was what she wanted me to be getting from those pages. And on the way home, I smiled and thanked God.
So I attended a tour that I didn't otherwise want to go on because of a hunch - and God showed me that this is where I should send my son. Thank you for giving me an open mind, God!
I was concerned that I hadn't done a good job on my meeting, so God nudges me into the phone call in time to hear one of the women in my call share with others how wonderful my meeting had been. Thank you for allowing me to hear that, God!
You tried to remind me to break that $20. I'm sorry I wasn't listening, God.
I asked you for help preparing for a meeting. Thank you for showing me the way through my sponsor, God!
I never used to believe in a Higher Power that cared about what I was doing or what happened to me. The trick was just knowing how to listen!
Wednesday, February 13, 2013
"Every prayer is answered. Sometimes, however, the answer is 'no.'" - Mr. Sponsorpants
The Big Book tells us to avoid praying for our own selfish desires: "We ask especially for freedom from self-will, and are careful to make no request for ourselves only. We may ask for ourselves, however, if others will be helped. We are careful never to pray for our own selfish ends." - Big Book, page 87
That is far easier said than done. Since reading that, I have tried to be conscious of what I am praying for each time I address my Higher Power. I have found that the vast majority of my entreaties are about things like, "please let that light stay green long enough for me to get through" or "please let the DVR have recorded my show this week!" You know, thebig, important selfish, minor things. Things that will cater to my own comfort and desires. I am working on consciously avoiding these kinds of prayers. Frankly, if I'm going to get divine intervention, I'd rather use it for something big like: "please let my cancer be curable" or "please don't let my house catch on fire."
There are then the mixed prayers, things like "please let the baby sleep through the night" or "please don't let me be late for my dentist appointment." There are quantifiable reasons why these prayers would help others. My son needs to get his sleep for his health and growth. If I am late for the dentist appointment it is likely to throw off the dental office's schedule putting them behind for the whole day. I can say these prayers are helpful to others, but really what I am praying for are sleep and the lack of embarrassment respectively. For the reasons above, I think these need to be minimized.
But there are other kinds of mixed prayers that I think definitely get the green light. For example, "please don't let my baby catch the flu" or "please let my husband's blood test results come back negative for [insert disease here]." I definitely have a personal stake in the health and well-being of my loved ones. If my baby gets sick that means I am going to be caring for him round the clock, and likely will be sick as well. Additionally, if my husband has some kind of illness, you can bet I'm going to hear about it ad nauseum if I'm not an active participant in the recovery process. But in those instances, the prayers are directed toward the fact that I want my family to be healthy for no other reason than that I love them and wish the best for them.
So I am hoping that if I cut out the selfish, unimportant prayers I will have better chances that my important prayers aren't going to get "no" as the answer.
The Big Book tells us to avoid praying for our own selfish desires: "We ask especially for freedom from self-will, and are careful to make no request for ourselves only. We may ask for ourselves, however, if others will be helped. We are careful never to pray for our own selfish ends." - Big Book, page 87
That is far easier said than done. Since reading that, I have tried to be conscious of what I am praying for each time I address my Higher Power. I have found that the vast majority of my entreaties are about things like, "please let that light stay green long enough for me to get through" or "please let the DVR have recorded my show this week!" You know, the
There are then the mixed prayers, things like "please let the baby sleep through the night" or "please don't let me be late for my dentist appointment." There are quantifiable reasons why these prayers would help others. My son needs to get his sleep for his health and growth. If I am late for the dentist appointment it is likely to throw off the dental office's schedule putting them behind for the whole day. I can say these prayers are helpful to others, but really what I am praying for are sleep and the lack of embarrassment respectively. For the reasons above, I think these need to be minimized.
But there are other kinds of mixed prayers that I think definitely get the green light. For example, "please don't let my baby catch the flu" or "please let my husband's blood test results come back negative for [insert disease here]." I definitely have a personal stake in the health and well-being of my loved ones. If my baby gets sick that means I am going to be caring for him round the clock, and likely will be sick as well. Additionally, if my husband has some kind of illness, you can bet I'm going to hear about it ad nauseum if I'm not an active participant in the recovery process. But in those instances, the prayers are directed toward the fact that I want my family to be healthy for no other reason than that I love them and wish the best for them.
So I am hoping that if I cut out the selfish, unimportant prayers I will have better chances that my important prayers aren't going to get "no" as the answer.
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.
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