A life of Sane and Happy Usefulness

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

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

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

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

Old Timer's Prayer

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

OLD TIMER'S PRAYER

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

The Serentiy Prayer

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

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

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

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

God's Messengers

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

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

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

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

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

God and the Willingness to be Willing

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter 1: Bill's Story - Summary

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Question

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

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

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

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

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

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