A Story of Recovery:

Suit Up and Show Up


I started FA17 months ago. Especially at the beginning of my recovery, my sponsor would say to me over and over, “The only thing you have to do is to not eat, and God will take care of the rest.” At first I didn’t believe her (I thought she was crazy for saying this), but now I know this is a fact.

A couple of weeks ago, I related my whole story to my sponsor for my first Fifth Step in an AWOL. A lot of painful memories from a very abusive childhood surfaced, and I hung onto my sponsor’s words for dear life. I just didn’t eat no matter how uncomfortable things got, and things got very uncomfortable! My body was flooded with physical memories of the abuse.

I left my sponsor’s house the day after I completed my fifth step and began a five-hour drive back to my house. I couldn’t breathe and I couldn’t stop crying. I asked god for help, called my fellows for support, and didn’t eat.

I had to go to work the next morning, and I had no idea how I was possibly going to get through a day of work feeling as vulnerable as I did. I remembered the story of the pilot from the the AA Big Book, who said that he simply “suited up and showed up.” So that’s what I did that whole week. I had to suit up and show up for everything.

Taking quiet time was a new experience in terror. I was no longer able to sit quietly in my chair like I had done for the previous sixteen months. My body felt like it was on fire and was being attacked. So every morning I asked god for help, showed up, suited up and took quiet time the best I could. A couple of mornings, I had to take quiet time curled up in a ball upside down in my chair to simply get through the 30 minutes.

I had to suit up and show up for mealtimes that week as well. Mealtimes at my house growing up were very violent events, and all those memories came flooding back. I did not want to sit down and eat my weighed and measured meals. When I finished my meal. it took everything I had not to purge it.

I had to suit up and show up for my sponsor calls. Every time I called my sponsor, I was sure she was going to say that she didn’t believe what I had told her during the fifth step, and that she thought I was a nut for making that stuff up. When she gently reassured me that she believed me, I thought for sure she was going to be killed, because I was always told that if I ever told anyone about the abuse that not only would I be killed, but that person would be killed.

I had to suit up and show up for my meetings and AWOL. I simply wanted to crawl into hole and die, let alone be around people, no matter how supportive they were. Thank you god for my fellows in my AWOL, who quietly sat there while I vented about what a horrible experience my Fifth Step was. They compassionately comforted me when I sat down and cried uncontrollably for over five minutes.

I had to suit up and show up for bedtime. Each night I read my AA Big Book, wrote down my food for the next day, wrote down the five things I was grateful for that day, got down on my knees, and thanked God for an abstinent day. I made sure the lights were on, made sure music was playing, and curled up in my chair in the fetal position until I passed out. Sleep, intermittent as it was, was peppered with horrifying nightmares. The next morning, I would get down on my knees and ask God for an abstinent day and start the whole process over again.

I knew I was going to be okay, because the only thing I had to do each day was to not eat, and God would take care of the rest. I suited up, showed up, and didn’t eat. The extreme emotions have subsided, and god has restored me to sanity. That restoration would not have been possible if I had not asked God for help, had not just suited up and showed up, and had not leaned heavily on the support of my fellowship. Most certainly, that restoration would not have been possible if I would have eaten addictively. My sponsor was absolutely right, the only thing I had to do was to not eat, and God took care of the rest. Thank you God.

 

This story was originally published in the Connection Magazine. Subscribe to the Connection Magazine for more stories of recovery. Or submit your own story of recovery.