A Story of Recovery:
Promises Coming True
Poor me! A disagreement with my husband and with a daughter who didn’t want to talk decimated my serenity that morning. Negative babbling clattered around in my brain. I’m incapable of having a good relationship. I’ll never learn how to talk to people. I’m just too stupid.
THEN, my cell phone signaled arrival of a text. I frowned at the sender—my sister. My stomach clenched. After not hearing from her in over three years, what could she want now? I gingerly read her message. She wanted to know what became of our mother’s pearl necklace and opal ring. Oh, and how about the other jewelry you promised to share after Mother died?
Mother had been gone nearly sixteen years. Why the sudden interest in her jewelry? Was my sister accusing me of selling valuable jewelry? I fired off an indignant text. There wasn’t any jewelry. That angry reaction triggered a volley of additional texts. My sister knew the jewelry existed because she had given the ring and necklace to Mother years ago. Gritting my teeth, I agreed to sort through the five large plastic boxes I’d packed away when I cleaned out Mother’s house. Resentment? A heavy load of it weighed on my soul.
Mother often tied colorful scarves around her neck and she always wore her wedding ring set. Other than that, the mother in my memory was not a jewelry person. Perhaps she wore an occasional brooch on a jacket. But a pearl necklace and opal cocktail ring? No way. I was positive about that.
Still, I lugged five dusty boxes down from top shelves in the garage and began to systematically unpack each one. Nestled in the bottom of the third one I discovered a wad of jewelry. And wouldn’t you know it? Entwined among several other items rested a pearl necklace and an opal ring.
How could I be so stupid as to forget this jewelry? Did I also forget a promise to divide them up? Stupid, stupid, stupid, the negative voices shouted. How could you forget something like this?
Although I’d been successfully abstinent for nearly two years, my food addiction roared to life. I desperately wanted to eat. Not just a nibble. I wanted to eat myself into a stupor. Pacing through my house, I began planning what I’d eat.
But first, a small voice of sanity whispered, try using the tools. I got down on my knees and asked for my Higher Power’s help. I picked up the phone and called my fellows. To distract me, my husband hauled me to an antique show. Returning to the house, the intense feelings of worthlessness and ineptitude resurfaced. That evening, I made one more desperate call.
This time, after patiently listening to my woeful story, my sweet FA friend said, “Please help me understand. What about this upsets you so much?”
Without giving it any thought, I blurted out, “I hate being wrong. I hate being wrong to my sister. She always makes me feel stupid.”
As soon as the words popped out, I started to cry. For years I’d stuffed down feelings of incompetence and being less than as she racked up success after success. She looked down on me from her fancy house, wealthy husband, and PhD degree. Echoes of FA slogans replayed in my mind. I have enough, I am enough, God is enough.
Next morning, the blame and shame pounded away again. In quiet time I cried out to my Higher Power for help. I talked to my sponsor. Still, I didn’t know how to surrender the feelings—to let go and let God.
Driving to my AWOL (A Way of Life—a comprehensive study of the 12 Steps) later, I continued the conversation with God. How do I get rid of this feeling I’m a loser? Where do I find peace and serenity? Give me courage to accept what needs to change. I remembered that one of my AWOL leaders had shared that when strong feelings bubble up, she stops and acknowledges them. Then she asks herself, “What am I not getting from others that I can give myself?”
I tried that. No help.
The light on my dashboard flashed. My left front tire pressure was low. In another minute, the right front tire pressure was also low. No time to hunt for a gas station. In five minutes my AWOL would begin and I didn’t want to be late. “What now God?” I asked out loud.
Almost magically, I spied a filling station at the next corner. I swerved into the air and water dispenser only to discover that air cost $1.50—quarters only. I had nothing but dollar bills. So I grabbed two and ran into the convenience store.
A lovely woman stood behind the register. I waved my bills at her. “Could I get some quarters?”
“You need air?” She smiled. “I turn on compressor for you.”
Tears flooded my eyes as I raced to the car. She gave me what I did not give myself. Kindness. I’m a human being—flawed and imperfect, but that’s okay. God loves me anyway.
My heart overflowed with gratitude for my FA program, which kept me from eating until I addressed a need that food could never fill. Driving on to my AWOL, gratitude for the promises of this program replaced negative thoughts. The promises of the program are being fulfilled. I’m beginning to know a new freedom and a new happiness. Uselessness and self-pity are slipping away. Fear of people is disappearing.
I drank in a deep cleansing breath—a random gift of enormous worth from a kind stranger.