A Story of Recovery:

Heartbeat & Rhythm

When I think of my first 90 days of abstinence, I think of two things my sponsor used to say to me all the time. First, she told me I was allergic to sugar, flour, and being told what to do; second, that her nickname for me was “yeah, but,” because my response always began with “Yeah, but…”every time she would tell me something. I always had reasons for why the suggestions she was giving weren’t going to work for me.

On the outside, I looked very obstinate and unwilling. I was also told on numerous occasions that I was scary. I was that angry food addict in the back row with my arms crossed, daring you to come over and talk to me. Those who did, may have wished they hadn’t. On the inside, I was scared to death.

I also came in with a lot of Alcoholics Anonymous (AA) pride. I had been in AA for a whopping two-and-a-half years. I hadn’t done all the steps, but I came ready and willing to inform all of FA that you were doing it wrong. Here I was, miserable in the food and telling people who had abstinence and recovery that they were doing it wrong.

I remember my first meeting. I showed up late with a latte. Yep, that’s how you can tell the newcomers. We show up to our first meetings with beverages and snacks. I was so angry. I had already been in AA and I just couldn’t believe god would be so cruel as to force me to surrender more. Little did I know that recovery is basically a series of surrenders. Sugar, Flour, and Quantities were just the first of many surrenders I would face, with each one growing me closer to god. In this meeting I heard the definition of abstinence and I remember wishing I could unhear it. I so badly did not want that to be the answer, but there was also a part of me that knew that it was. I felt like my insides were screaming, “Noooooooooooo!”

I didn’t get a sponsor after that first meeting. I went home and binged my brains out. My neighbor, who lived across the street, had been at the meeting and she called me the next day. For the first time I got really honest with someone about what I had done with the food. I still remember this conversation many years later. When I told her what had happened with the food, I was convinced she was going to call me stupid and ask me if I had listened at all during the meeting. Instead, she said “Of course you binged. If you are a food addict, you won’t be able to stay out of the food without the tools.” It was so loving and kind, and she was right. There was no way I, as a food addict, could stay out of the food without all of the tools working together.

I went to a meeting that night and got my first sponsor. This relationship lasted 10 days. I refused to take her suggestion around not travelling during the first 90 days. I definitely come from having to learn the hard way. If you would have asked me back then, I would have told you that my sponsor told me I couldn’t go, as if it was about giving or getting permission, and I would have told you how wrong she and this program were.

If you ask me now, I would be able to tell you what happened and it would be much closer to the truth. I told my sponsor I had a trip planned to see my brother’s family in Atlanta. I live on the west coast. What she asked me was, “Would you consider seeing if you could change your flight to a time further out, when you have more abstinence? It is really difficult to stay abstinent while travelling so early on.”

I was appalled. I couldn’t believe that she would tell me to do such a thing. Miss visiting my family for Thanksgiving? After relapsing on that trip, being in the food for almost a month, and gaining 15 pounds, a small tiny foundation of humility started to be built. It took the form of, “Hmmm…maybe my sponsor does know a little more than I do.”

When I got back from my trip I called my sponsor and she didn’t have time to sponsor me. I wasn’t surprised—I was a terrible sponsee to have. I was rude, arrogant, and unwilling. I thought nothing of cussing on my call to her. I frequently told her that either she was stupid or this program was.

The AA Big Book talks about emotional growth being stunted for addicts in their disease. Based on my behavior, I would have to say my disease started when I was three years old. That is exactly how I behaved in those early days of recovery. Have you ever been around a three year old? I have—twice! I have a five-year-old and a three-year-old. The most common question I hear from them is, “Why?” No matter what the answer is, it’s never a good enough answer. That is what sponsoring me was like in those first 90 days; actually, the first couple of years to be honest.

Here’s the good news. The person I was at day one and the person I was at day 90 (of back to back abstinence) were like two different people. I remember being about six weeks into program. My kitchen was a mess. I had such a learning curve around cooking. My idea of cooking was to pull the container out of the freezer, poke the plastic with a fork, and microwave it for two minutes.

So there I was, in my kitchen steaming vegetables and cooking proteins in the oven, completely surrounded by food and pots and pans. In that mayhem, I realized for the first time in my life that I was actually taking care of myself. I truly mattered enough to take this time and do this for myself. I immediately burst into tears of gratitude and fell to my knees. I had never in my life felt like I was worth anything, but I was worth doing FA for. After that day I never looked back.

In my first 90 days, I heard two particular shares that have really stuck with me. In the first one, a woman shared that what had helped her in the beginning, was to think about how she didn’t want to be on her death bed and wondering if her life could have been different if she had just tried FA—really tried FA. Not half measuring, but fully measuring it and taking every little suggestion. This share really helped me change how I acted as a sponsee. I’m not saying that I became a total joy to have as a sponsee. Let’s not get carried away, but I started taking a lot more suggestions and I let go of having to know the answer to “why” I was being given every suggestion. The need to understand “why” became less important, and I started to see results. I was becoming less angry and scared.

In the second share, the woman said, “Recovery is doing what you DON’T want to do on a regular basis.” I remember thinking, “Well, recovery sucks then. Who wants to hear that?” I was an addict. I rarely did what I didn’t want to do, but she was so right. An addict like me, just coming out of her disease, did not want to do this program. I was lazy. I didn’t want to do anything.

What is so cool about this program is that, today I do a lot of things I don’t “want” to do because they are the right thing to do. Feelings don’t steer my life today. Rather, trying to discern what my next right action is guides my life today. Doing the right thing is ultimately what makes me feel really good about myself—an idea that was very foreign to me while I was in disease.

I remember I asked someone how long I would have to keep eating this same food plan, and the response was to do it until you want to do it. What kind of cockamamie answer is that? But, I will tell you that everything that I didn’t want to do early on in this program, I absolutely love and appreciate doing today. That cockamamie suggestion worked. I did what I didn’t want to do (which was almost the entire program) until I wanted to do it. My scale, my meetings, my quiet time, my phone calls, my sponsor, prayer, our literature—all of these things, I love and appreciate because they have given me the foundation for an amazing and wonderful life today. My first sponsor would always say this disease robs us of 85% of our life, and we don’t even know it. She was so right. I’m living such a full life today, one that includes a husband and two little boys. My life is very full but, the heartbeat and rhythm of my life comes from FA. It is first and foremost in my life.