A Story of Recovery:
Commitment Aversion
Four years ago, my first FA sponsor suggested that I choose and commit to three meetings per week as part of my recovery program. My addict’s brain defined “commitment” as trapped and over a barrel. I balked, and immediately had an attack of the “whys”: why should I not drop in and out of meetings at my convenience, and why did it matter which meetings I attended. Why did I have to commit, and what difference would it make? My should-be-sainted, patient sponsor gently explained that it had worked for her, and if I wanted what she had… Groan…okay… Still, it took me a long time to grapple with the idea of committed meetings and even longer to work them into my seemingly unique schedule.
Thankfully over the past few years, I have gradually come to understand the value of committed meetings. Yes, it does make a difference, and it matters a great deal, both to me and to the other FA members at my committed meetings. To put it in sitcom terms, I have learned it is the place” where everybody knows your name” that supports my recovery best. I can “meeting hop” my way through this program, or I can go to my friendly neighborhood meeting, where I will hear a heartwarming chorus of “Hi,” as I walk through the door.
Meeting hopping is a means for me to avoid building meaningful, sustaining relationships within my FA fellowship. If I remain apart from any group, I stay closer to my old patterns and behaviors, and closer to the eventual break. My disease thinks meeting hopping is a good idea. It fears and resists anything that has commitment attached to it; it does not want me to discover the deeper recovery found through fellowship.
Fellowship comes from an ongoing association and sharing of experiences with other food addicts. I find companionship and a calmness sitting in a committed meeting room. I get comfort and reassurance from seeing familiar faces and listening to well-known voices. Sometimes that comfort is a subconscious, subtle balm, and sometimes it is a gut-deep exhale, but it is always a mending stitch on the quilt of my recovery.
Occasionally it is a pain in the backside to get to my committed meeting. With fellowship came the awareness that I was not so unique after all, that my fellow members had busy interesting lives too, and they managed to show up. They were in the room when I walked through the door for that first FA meeting and they welcomed me. They welcomed me the second time, and the next. By showing up, I became a part of that group. The feeling of belonging gives me incentive to continue to show up, especially on those reluctant or inconvenient days…it also makes it easier to resist my disease when it would have me stay removed from any possible solution or chance of recovery. I know the other members in my groups make notice of and take comfort in my presence at the meetings, as I appreciate and take comfort in theirs. When one of us has a success, we all feel joy; when one of us experiences loss or has need, we rally, and when one of us is missing, it matters.
After four years, I think I understand the whys of committed meetings, and I believe being one of the familiar faces in the room is a simple service that I can do for others, and for myself. Over time, some faces have changed; new people come and others move along on their journeys, but as long as we continue to show up for the meeting, the group continues.
The first definition for “commit” in my Webster’s dictionary is to give in charge or trust; deliver for safekeeping; entrust; consign. I first gave my trust to my sponsor as she led me in this program, and then my fledgling recovery to a few amazing groups of food addicts. Today I have true fellowship. I rest easy in the knowledge that my FA friends will help keep me safe as we walk together along the path of recovery.