A Story of Recovery:
A Random Act of Kindness
A disagreement with my husband and a daughter who didn’t want to talk decimated my serenity one morning–poor me! Negative babbling clattered through my brain. I’m incapable of having a good relationship, I heard. I’ll never learn how to talk to people. I’m just too stupid.
Then my cell phone signaled arrival of a text. I frowned at the sender—my sister. My stomach clenched. Our last communication happened over three years ago. What could she want? I gingerly read her message. What became of our mother’s pearl necklace and opal ring? How about the other jewelry you promised we would disburse after mother died?
Mother had been gone nearly sixteen years. Why the sudden interest in her jewelry? Was my sister accusing me of selling valuable jewelry? Maybe she thought I’d kept it for myself? I fired off an indignant text denying any knowledge of such items. A series of texts volleyed back and forth. She insisted such items existed because she had given them to Mother. In exasperation, I agreed to sort through the five large plastic boxes I packed away when I cleaned out Mother’s house. Resentment? Yes, tons of it weighted my soul.
I had no memory of a pearl necklace or opal ring. Mother was not a jewelry person. She often wore colorful scarves tied around her neck along with her wedding ring set. Maybe an occasional brooch on a jacket. But a pearl necklace or opal cocktail ring? Uh-uh. I was positive about that.
Gritting my teeth, I lugged five dusty boxes down from top shelves in the garage and systematically unpacked each one. And wouldn’t you know it? Nestled in the bottom of the third one I discovered a cluster of jewelry. Entwined among several other items rested a pearl necklace and an opal ring.
How could I be so stupid as to forget this jewelry? Did I also forget a promise to divide them up? “Stupid, stupid, stupid”, the negative voices shouted. “No wonder no one talks to you anymore.”
Although I’d been abstinent for nearly two years, my food addiction roared to life. I desperately wanted to eat. Not just a nibble. I wanted to eat myself into a stupor. Pacing through my house, I began planning what I’d eat.
But first, a small voice of sanity whispered, try using the tools. I got down on my knees and asked for my Higher Power’s help. I picked up the phone and called my fellows. To distract me, my husband hauled me to an antique show. Returning, the intense feelings of worthlessness and ineptitude resurfaced. That evening, I made one more desperate call.
This time, after patiently listening to my woeful story, my sweet FA friend said, “Please help me understand. What about that upsets you so much?”
Without giving it any thought, I blurted out, “I hate being wrong. I hate being wrong to my sister. She always makes me feel stupid.”
As soon as the words popped out, I started to cry. For years I’d stuffed down feelings of incompetence and being less than as she racked up successes. She seemed to look down on me from her lofty perch—with her fancy house, wealthy husband, and PhD degree. Now that I no longer used food to numb the pain, I had to get it up and out to find relief of not being as accomplished. Repeating the mantra I have enough, I am enough, God is enough allowed me to rest.
Next morning, the blame and shame pounded away again. I took it to quiet time. I talked to my sponsor. What did my Higher Power (whom I call God) want me to do? I didn’t know how to surrender the feelings.
Driving to my AWOL (A Way of Life—a comprehensive study of the 12 Steps) later, I continued the conversation with God. How do I rid myself of this feeling I’m a loser? Where is the peace and serenity I had before? Give me courage to accept what needs to change. One of my AWOL leaders shared that when strong feelings come up, she stops and acknowledges them. Then she asks herself, “What am I not getting from others that I can give myself?” I tried that. No help.
The light on my dashboard flashed. My left front tire pressure was low. In another minute, the right front tire pressure was also low. No time to hunt for a gas station. In five minutes my AWOL would begin and I didn’t want to be late. “What now God?” I asked out loud.
A filling station appeared at the next corner. I swerved into the air and water dispenser only to discover that air cost $1.50—in quarters only. I had dollar bills. I grabbed two and ran into the convenience store. A lovely woman stood behind the register. I waved my bills at her. “Could I get some quarters?” She smiled. “You need air?” She gestured for me to go. “I turn on compressor for you.” Tears flooded my eyes as I raced to the car.
She gave me what I needed. Kindness. I needed to be kind to myself. I am a human being—flawed and imperfect, but that’s okay. God loves me anyway.
My heart overflowed with gratitude for my FA program, which kept me from eating until a need that food could never fill was addressed. Driving to my AWOL, gratitude for the promises of this program replaced negative thoughts. I know a new freedom and a new happiness. Uselessness and self-pity are disappearing. My outlook on life is changing. I filled my lungs with a deep cleansing breath—a random gift of enormous worth from a kind stranger.