A Story of Recovery:

My First Convention

I was in FA over two years before I attended my first Foods Addicts in Recovery (FA) annual business convention in Boston. In the first year, I was too foggy to even know what an FA convention is for. I already belonged to many 12-Step programs and this additional FA service stuff was not for me! In the second year, I was abstinent for about a year but still struggling with many things, fighting on different fronts. I had not saved the money to attend convention and had other financial priorities that I was obsessing over. As my sponsor was not keen on me going, the second convention also came and went. In my third year in program, FA became my only program; my honesty, commitment, and focus became much more single-tracked and I started speaking to my sponsor about the need to prepare for going to the next convention.

About six months out, I began mentioning it on my daily calls and heard that rooms were getting sold out. I went online to book myself a room with two beds, texting my sponsor five to ten times as I clicked page after page on the website to get directions on what to choose. Then I went on the FA website lodging form and put my name down as needing a ride. I also had planned to offer a bed to a potential roommate, but as I was not keen on having one, I delayed posting the offer. (Eventually, I ended up being alone in my room which was wonderful!)

Three months out, I booked my flight to correspond with my sponsor’s. She advised me to book normal flight hours, between 8am and 5pm, even though it is a little more expensive, in order to not pressure my system and keep things as normal as regular life. Then I needed a carry-on bag! I shopped for days and days. It took me six weeks until I found a deal on the bag I liked. Then I asked about how to prepare meals. I needed nine meals: five on the way to convention and four on the way back, as the convention meal plan only covered Friday night to Sunday. I needed meals for Thursday and part of Friday and Monday.

I continued to talk about the convention on my calls. My fear of airport security, the unfairness of expenses a Canadian must incur, the frustration of having to ride a plane that is environmentally unfriendly, the anxiety about being among so many people, the possibility of the plane crashing—all of these had me rattled. I had so many objections that, if I didn’t talk about them, I realized I wasn’t going to go.

Then, two months before convention I got hired in a prestigious new job. Although I was told not to ask for a holiday for the nine months of the probationary period, my sponsor suggested I ask for days off to go to convention. I was very reluctant to do this. Still, when I went to my boss to request the time off, my boss happily agreed. My new coworkers tormented me about going on vacation in my first two months of the job, but I put my trust about my job security in God’s hands and continued to make regular credit card payments covering the costs of the hotel, convention, flight, and luggage.

One month before convention, my sponsor casually suggested I check my passport. It had been sitting unused in a drawer for many years. On checking it, I discovered it had expired! I started to panic, this time with a compelling reason not to attend; however, the government agent assured me that if I took five steps, I could submit the passport application and receive my passport before I boarded my flight. I complained angrily—poor ME! In order to get the passport in two weeks I had to travel to another city, sleep over in the home of an FA fellow, and ask a second FA member to pick up my passport and meet me at the airport.

By the time I locked my house, hopped into my car, and drove to the airport I was exhausted. Even then, I had to learn where to park and how to find my gate. Security confiscated part of my breakfast, and during the trip I became confused with the time zones, almost missing a meal. My sponsor and four other members were with me on the same flight, which really helped, but when we got to Logan Airport, rented a car, drove to Danvers, checked into the hotel, and found the rooms, I cried and crashed into bed. I was tired, hungry, jet lagged, overstimulated, afraid, and excited.

I enjoyed the convention; I cried from the miracles and stories I heard. I met young people who I could relate to more and saw how they work their program. I listened to people from around the world (France, Australia, Germany) and collected a list of 600 phone numbers to call. The hotel was nice, the rooms were clean, and everything was well-organized, professional, and punctual, with volunteers everywhere to take you to the right session and answer all your questions. The best part for me was dancing. I had to make an outreach call to get the courage to do it, but on Saturday evening, I danced for an hour and felt victorious. You can be abstinent and venturous at the same time! Then, before I knew it, I was on the way back home.

The convention was not easy, but it was a gift. I learned patience, perseverance, and determination. I learned how to socialize, to survive away from my environment, and to put myself way outside of my comfort zone. I learned that it is okay to miss out on things, and I learned how to listen. From being together with hundreds of others in program, I learned that I need to work the program for myself; nobody is dictating anything. We are all trying to do the best we can. It is an equal playing field. I lost my resentment, doubt, and blaming mentality and I came back with three principals: love, gratitude, and service. Attending convention challenged me, dared my willingness, and matured me in many ways; I even think it made me a better person. Not a bad way to spend a weekend.