It’s interesting, isn’t it, that I stopped posting here about halfway through my 30-in-30 or some-in-some or what-have-you? I mean, when I was going to so many meetings and utilizing so many of the tools–when I was hearing the message and feeling pretty good? I just–kinda–stopped? It ended up being a 26-in-29, for those who are curious, which I was happy about mostly: I didn’t, however, benefit from the “light beams shooting out all over me” that one program friend (program friend! I have those?!) thought I must be experiencing from so many meetings. Heck, I would have thought something like that would happen, too–I probably went to more meetings last month than in my first year in the rooms. In fact, though, on many days during that 26-in-29 I felt serenity only after attending a meeting, calling three fellows, writing [by hand, in a journal], praying, reading literature, calling my sponsor, and following my food plan; in other words, using all the tools Overeaters Anonymous recommends. ”It works if you work it”–I know, I know–and “One hour in a meeting gets you 23 hours back”–true, but what about three hours spent tooling and tooling away? Plus 7–okay, 6–hours sleeping, plus 8 hours working, let’s say, for the Average Joe, plus 2 hours commuting, plus 2.5 hours obtaining, preparing, and eating food: already I have only 2.5 hours left in my day, but…OHHHH…
…well.
Okay, I mean, I guess… if that’s time that can be spent being kind, compassionate, and loving, or pursuing my dreams fearlessly, or plain old NOT BINGEING, I guess I’m better off than I was before. Not to mention that the quality of hours spent sleeping, working, and especially obtaining, preparing, and eating food will be much richer. More free from obsession, at least. Okay. I’ll take it.
But what I found myself wondering after those fourish weeks of almost-one-a-day: it possible I overdid it? I felt, after it was all over, an inexplicable, weary but driving urge to–guess! guess!–yep. Eat. Of course, that could, I guess, be attributed to starting a new birth control pill and embarking on a yoga-teacher-training program that is quite fatiguing and oh, moving! By myself. Into a sixth floor walk-up. I don’t mean to be self-pitying here. I am just saying that, if I am to be reasonable and self-caring and not beat myself up needlessly, I should take these things into consideration. My body needed extra fuel and a lot more rest, and there was no time for rest. As a result, maybe, I did overeat compulsively. Did I binge? Not quite–for me. Did I want to berate myself and start over at Day 1 and uphold myself to ever-higher standards of abstinence (standards that I see some of my program friends–there it is again–following and finding serenity with)? Yes. But it’s NO LONGER A MORAL ISSUE–to quote yet another program friend. And my abstinence is more a state of mind than anything else, when we begin to contemplate the bottom line. I am abstinent because I say I am: because I remain committed to my program of recovery. Because when I wake up and the pants don’t fit, I love myself more. (Quoting again–I’m not making this stuff up, people). Because I continue to use the tools and attend meetings and show up for my life. Granted, not starting over makes me envious of others who have the humility to show up each day and say “Day 1.” But maintaining abstinence, however imperfectly, keeps me out of perfectionism and out of relapse: the minute I say “Day 1,” I press a pause button: I delay Day 1. I drop into that cycle of self-sabotage, and I don’t get out (until I hit another bottom–until I stop digging). The fact is, that has been my experience. And my recovery is forward-moving. When the food feels funky, it doesn’t mean start over (this is what I’m learning). It means be honest and keep moving forward.
I think.
Anyway, I guess this means I am back to the blogosphere. I apologize for my absence, but not writing probably did me worse a turn than anyone who might be reading it. I think, perhaps, another reason I took a lil break was that I started to tell some real-live people about this thing, and knowing that they know it’s here and that I’m writing it may have produced in me a teeny tiny bit of fear. Feel free to share your thoughts below…
x o x ohhhh
your Grateful Recovering Compulsive Overeater,
L.
I read recently that fear is our only means to build courage. I like the idea of that–a wonderful character attribute requires something that normally paralyzes me into inaction to accept that change is coming and it’s time to make myself ready.
I didn’t do the 30-30, or even something near it (I think I did 3 in 30, since I missed one of the weekly meetings I started attending). I think it’s wonderful that, when you use nearly all of or all of the tools in a day, you find serenity. It does sound like the program is working, and those red flags that you want to eat deserve your attention, because we use food to hide from the real irritant in our lives. I know if I’m looking at food as a cure for some sort of malaise, it’s always something “eating me” causing me to want to eat. First comes the craving; next, the raw emotion (anger, sadness, fear); last, the reason for the emotion. Then I can sit with it (and my Higher Power) and approach it with a recovered rationale.
I love that quote, about it not being a “moral issue”, like our addiction is all about our inability to extricate ourselves from one of the Seven Deadly Sins. I never signed up to become an addict, though I appreciate it now because I can have empathy for every last person who is tired of being told, “Just use a little willpower!” by well-meaning–and sometimes not-well-meaning–people who don’t understand we’ve used it all up and still cannot stop compulsively trying to control our relationships with food . . . because our own lives feel so out of control, maybe if we master the food, we can master life.
I really like your approach to abstinence. I recently had a small slip and went back and forth on whether to start back at Day 1. I did in the end, but I’m not sure it was the best thing to do.
I definitely tend toward perfectionism, particularly with abstinence, and as soon as I went back to Day 1, the self-criticism started. Rather than accepting that I had made a small slip and that mistakes are part of abstinence, I spent the evening of the following day full-on bingeing (not a small slip anymore) and delayed my progress, just like you said. I had to remind myself that starting back at Day 1 didn’t negate all my previous days of abstinence.
I like the idea that abstinence is a mindset because that’s really what it is, not just a tally of numbers.
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