A Story of Recovery:
OpenToolbox
When I first came into program, I just wanted to lose and maintain my weight. I had tried every diet on the market, in the magazines, every quirky thing that came along: Paige Palmer, Dr. Atkins, Richard Simmons, Living Thin, hypnosis, learning to eat like a turtle, and an over-abundance of others. Yet I still weighed 252 pounds, and was gaining a pound a day. In those programs my weight continued to yo-yo significantly: from 175 pounds to 265, with a highest weight of 280 pounds.
Another Twelve Step program was the last thing I wanted, but I came in anyway. I had no other option. Even though I could agree my weight was unmanageable, I denied that my life was unmanageable. I thought my debt, workaholism, the problems I had with relationships, the lack of orderliness in my home, and how I handled the challenges of being a single mom were all part of a normal life. I had heard about the FA program: I heard it was extremely rigid; I heard that they had such a strict definition of abstinence that if you didn’t weigh your food, it was considered a break. How crazy is that! How many people can live their life eating weighed and measured food, day after day, after day?
It took me eight months to get 90 days of clean abstinence in FA because I thought I didn’t have to use all the tools; because I wasn’t as bad as “they” were. I heard others describe this disease as cunning, baffling and powerful. Over the years, I realized those words were insufficient. Every time something happened, I still wanted to turn to the food. I had to start using all the tools to get those 90 days. What I didn’t realize at the time was that I would need to continue to use those tools to stay abstinent. I also didn’t realize that I would need to work on this for the rest of my life. Abstinence was just the baseline requirement for me to work the Twelve Steps. It was working the Twelve Steps without depending on any other substance as a backup or to take the edge off my feelings in the moment that gave me the potential of true recovery.
It’s now 13 years later. The tools have become as natural as brushing my teeth. I don’t leave the house without brushing my teeth, and I don’t leave without doing quiet time. I don’t go to bed without changing into PJs and I don’t go to bed without reading one to two pages of the AA Big Book or FA Book. FA practices have been gradually integrated into my normal routines. Yes, it’s easier these days, but I am still a food addict, and at times doing the tools can still be challenging.
About two years ago I realized that I felt a dis-ease in my daily life. As I tried writing about it, I realized some of my tools were slipping. I did a deep inventory of those tools. I looked at what I was doing, and where I needed to make changes. I didn’t want to lose my abstinence and stand there scratching my head wondering where I went wrong.
So today, I do a monthly tool inventory. I take a serious look at each tool. I know what the best practices are. My sponsors have taught me well. For example, when I look at the tool of meetings:
Do I arrive 10 minutes early?
When I share do I stay focused on recovery from food addiction?
Do I focus on helping the newcomer?
During the break do I talk with the newcomer or the person sitting alone?
Do I pay attention to the speaker or am I letting my mind wonder?
Do I fully participate in the meeting by listening or sharing?
Do I hog the sharing time or keep my shares weighed and measured?
Do I attend business meetings?
Do I offer to hold service positions?
Do I help set up and put away literature, set up and take down the room, and do whatever other service is needed for the meeting?
What else is my own particular quirk about meetings that I need to address and correct?
I go through each tool in detail. Each and every month there is something I need to correct. Sometimes it’s just a slight change, sometimes it’s more major, but there’s always something. Doing this helps me feel more on track. There are no guarantees for staying abstinent, but I want to do what I can. I think the thing I focus on most is my relationship with my Higher Power. My brain has been damaged by this disease. I can easily tell myself, I’m just fine. My relationship with God is good. No worries. When I look at my actions, I can more easily tell if I am staying on track. I want to catch myself going off track quickly. It’s a whole lot easier to make a little correction than to find myself needing to make a 180 degree turn.
I’ve had a tough several years. During the past four years of recovery I’ve had a knee replacement, hip replacement and ankle fusion, and I was diagnosed with severe adult-onset asthma, and now I am sitting here at home instead of at work because of a workman’s comp injury. But I know contented abstinence is still a possibility and a reality for me. I feel good. I am at peace. Not only that, but I can look at myself every morning in the mirror, eye-to-eye, and tell myself that I love myself: with all of my flaws, with all of those special things that make me, me. I love myself. It brings tears to my eyes. All I did was follow this rigid program and weigh and measure all my food and my life has turned around. I feel like I am finally starting to become the person God created me to be. I have lots of work to do yet, but I have what I need to keep on going. I am so incredibly grateful.