A Story of Recovery:

Out of the Woods

The speaker at the first FA meeting I attended was adorable and wore a yellow, cardigan sweater. All of the buttons were buttoned, which was what got my attention. I could not button my sweaters. My blouses, on the other hand, had safety pins to keep the gaps closed. Not a pretty sight! That meeting really woke me up for the first time in forever. People actually said out loud what I’d kept in the dark cave of my own guilt and despair for my entire life.

At the meeting I heard the speaker ask people with less than 90 days of abstinence to read from the front of the room. I immediately decided (or my disease decided for me) that I would not be getting up there to read. I did not want to be seen in the last, stretched pair of pants that still kind of fit. I did not want to show my waddling behind and my dead eyes.

However, I’d come from another Twelve-Step program, so I already knew that if I wanted what “they” had, I had to do what they did. I had to learn to be willing to go “to any lengths” for my recovery. So, from my second meeting on, my hand was raised to read.

I was told that I needed to grow, and I was led by example. I learned to arrive at meetings early to set up chairs, that service keeps us abstinent, and that people who arrived early sat in the front row. I learned that I had to be more organized and make changes. For instance, one morning I left my house when it was still dark and I had all my food crammed into my backpack. I felt the lid separate from one of the containers and heard the wet contents spill into the bottom my backpack. It was just like me to use old containers instead of purchasing nice ones that did not leak. Another morning, I stopped on the sidewalk under a street lamp to read my food plan to my sponsor. When she told me I deserved a quiet, more private place to speak with her, I became limp with discouragement. I did not feel like I could do one more thing. When I found myself still zooming through my life at breakneck speed and still not able to make it home to eat my meals on time, I was sure I was doing everything wrong and would never “get it.” Yuck, I thought, what’s wrong with me?

I came to learn that the problem was that I was treating each abstinent day as my incredible accomplishment. I discovered that I had to ask for help from my higher power when I needed it. Only then did I begin to see that “I can’t but we can.”

My sponsor gave me phone numbers to call. I spoke with a woman from another state who had about the same amount of abstinence as me. She was as totally and absolutely exhausted as I was. We leaned against each other as if trying to make it out of the woods before we collapsed. Imagine our relief and delight, when upon completion of 90 days, we became alive and well again and had energy. When I did finally get my first 90 days of abstinence (and it took me longer than 90 days!), I felt shy and excited, basking in the smiling faces of those who had helped me.