A Story of Recovery:
After many 12-step programs, God had my number
When I came into FA, I had been in 12-step recovery programs for 19 years. Lots of them. Programs for money problems, programs for relationship problems, programs for alcohol programs – but never a program for problems with food. Those problems I could handle myself, thank you very much.
Yet, here I was again in an AA meeting, using my sharing time to talk about powerlessness over sugar and how unmanageable my life was around food. I’d make a point of saying how grateful I was that I had stopped drinking alcohol, of course. But, I’d add, there was no getting around the fact that everything I read in the Big Book about the incessant thinking about the drink, craving the drink, the temporary relief derived from giving in to it, and the resulting remorse and disgust that followed, described my experiences of eating junk food and drinking sugary drinks. “So,” I’d conclude, “even if I haven’t had a drink of alcohol in 19 years, how sober am I, really?”
As this particular small-town AA meeting came to a close, and I stood up to put on my coat, someone called my name. I turned to see a petite woman approaching me with a smile. She held a white folded paper in her hand.
“Thanks for your comment,” she said. “I really related to it. In fact, I’ve been free from craziness around sugar and caffeine for many years now. I’m in a program called FA.” She handed me an FA tri-fold meeting schedule. I don’t know if there are any meetings where you live, but there is a terrific member I know who lives there. She may be able to help you. Here’s her number.”
I was skeptical. No meetings near me? What kind of rinky-dink outfit was this FA? “Thank you,” I said, taking the tri-fold with the name and number written on it. No way I’m calling this person, I thought. But to be polite, I tucked it into my pants pocket and forgot about it.
Later that evening found me eating flour and drinking sugar in front of the television set alongside my 88-year-old mother. It would be another three years of riding the rollercoaster, going on and off what I called the “blatant sweets” wagon, before I was to get sick and tired enough to ask for help. My weight was going up. My connection with my higher power was clouded by my brain’s allegiance to the temporary elevation promised by sugar and caffeine. I was powerless over wanting to be high all the time, and it was easy to score my drug wherever I turned. I couldn’t stop.
Back home, before leaving a movie theatre one night, my wife “caught” me getting a second free refill of my gigantic 50-ounce soda. She had the audacity to try to take it away from me. This resulted in a tug-of-war in the lobby over my precious sugary drink. The scene may have looked comical to anyone watching, but I was deadly serious about winning that battle. And I did. Silently and sullenly, I sipped on the mega drink the whole ride home.
At my first meeting, I was impressed by the honesty I heard; here were people speaking truth. I heard the phrase, “fear, doubt and insecurity” for the first time, and could relate. I also heard many people share their experience, strength, and hope, based on trust in a Higher Power. Yes, I said to myself, this is the kind of recovery I need.
When it came time for available sponsors to make themselves known, two people stood up. One woman seemed to have what I wanted: clarity of thought, honesty, a sense of humor, a ton of gratitude, and an apparent deep desire for a close relationship with a Higher Power. We spoke at the break and after the meeting. I liked her. So I called her three days later to ask if she would be my sponsor.
I took to FA by the grace of God. I was experiencing being abstinent, truly abstinent, for the first time in my 56 years on earth. I wouldn’t say I was on a “pink cloud,” but I definitely knew I was doing something good for myself, and that this was the right path for me, one day at a time.
At first, it felt very odd to abstain from flour, sugar, and caffeine every day. It was kind of like living in a foreign country. But one day, about two weeks into my newly found abstinence, driving home after a meeting, God gave me a sign that I was on the right track. It came in the form of a series of thoughts that popped up in my mind.
“Remember that piece of paper, that tri-fold with the name and phone number written on it? The one that petite woman handed you after the AA meeting three years ago? Do you know where it is?”
I did. I’d even come across it a few times over the past three years. It was in the top drawer of my bedroom dresser.
“Take a look at it and see what you see.”
When I got home, I dashed up the stairs and into the bedroom. I pulled out the top drawer. It was full of clutter. I kind of pushed around the crazy mass of unmatched socks, old keys, worn out wallets, padlocks and expired passports, when, lo and behold, there it was, the tri-fold. I turned it over to read its flipside, where the petite woman from Vermont had written the name and number of the “terrific member” she wanted me to meet in Chicago.
And there it was, the once unfamiliar name and 10digit phone number that today I recognize as belonging to a woman I speak with every morning for 15 minutes, seven days a week. Here was the name and number of my FA sponsor, the “terrific member” recommended to me three years prior to this by the petite woman in Vermont.
I’ll keep coming back.