A Story of Recovery:

Clear and Present


In my early days of recovery, I heard the saying “suit up and show up.” I didn’t quite understand what it meant. I was extremely capable, hard-working, and compassionate. I always showed up and I was always available to help, always there if you needed a shoulder to cry on, always there if you were short on cash. I was always available to everyone! I prided myself on being a great employee and friend, and I didn’t think I needed to learn anything from this slogan.

As I began to emerge from my flour, sugar, and fast-food fog, and the pounds started to drop off my 207-pound body, I started to see things differently. I was showing up alright, if you consider showing up to mean that I was overwhelmed, overworked, overcommitted, distracted, and crazy; then, yes, I showed up. So, I realized that I had a lot to learn about suiting up and showing up.

In FA, I have learned that suiting up means that I need to have a good night’s sleep, that I have done my quiet time, that I have used all my tools—which are the foundation of my life—and that my food is in order (and that means it’s in the refrigerator – weighed and measured). I cannot commit to too many things in one day or to overload my weekends. Most importantly, I have to ask God for help. If I am taking care of myself in this way, then I can show up for my life and the people in it. Suiting up means putting my recovery and myself first, at all times.

For the past eight years, my mom battled ovarian cancer – and my newfound lessons in suiting up and showing up were put to the test. I was at her first oncology appointment and her first chemotherapy treatment and was there for her over the years of remissions and recurrences of her cancer. I was there with her every step of the way.

Two years ago my mom had major surgery and I went to stay with her for a few weeks to help out. I was there every day at the hospital with my abstinent lunch packed. I always brought my cell phone, so I could make calls. A few weeks turned into seven weeks, which included several more hospitalizations. This was a very difficult time, and I had to juggle many things, including my job situation and what was going on with my mom’s health. However, with my continuing to use all my Program tools, talking with my sponsor and fellows, and asking God for help, I got through those weeks abstinently.

My mom passed away recently and, again, I was able to be present with her in her final days. It is not easy to watch someone you love slip away, but I am grateful that I could truly be of service. I was blessed to have a great mom, and I am grateful that because of FA, I could really be the daughter that I always dreamed about but couldn’t figure out how to be when I was crazy in the food and weighing 207 pounds.

Throughout her illness, my mom experienced her daughter at a healthy weight and clear-headed, not distracted by food and driven by fear, doubt, and insecurity all the time. I know today that love is an action, and because of recovery, I could truly live that out with my mom.  I am truly grateful to finally understand the grace of “suit up and show up.”

 

This story was originally published in the Connection Magazine. Subscribe to the Connection Magazine for more stories of recovery. Or submit your own story of recovery.