Navigating 2020

I’m thinking of food more often than I have since I started program seven-and-a-half years ago. Even though I have four years of back-to-back abstinence and have lost more than 100 pounds (45 kilos), when the going gets tough, I think of food.

Grocery shopping was a challenge yesterday. I felt like I was in a casino with lights and sounds going off everywhere calling me to the frozen section, the bakery section, this item, that item. The food wasn’t for me but for my kids. I wanted to stop on the way home and get them treats, but I didn’t. I love them and want them to be healthy. I can’t use them as an outlet for my addiction, pushing food on them that I can’t eat, just so I can “make them happy,” but really just so I can buy the stuff but not eat it.

Why am I so off? I am safe, healthy, have my family around me. My husband has a job; my children are in school. I have the privilege of not working just for today and leading whatever life I want. I am in a slim, fit body and in better health at 50 than I’ve ever been.

And still, I want to eat. Life shows up, and this year, it has in spades. There is a global pandemic and we are cut off from normal activities. My husband is coping with depression and anxiety and recently changed his medications without talking to his doctor. My children are frustrated because they have had to give up the summer freedom and be back at school at 8:15am with classes and schoolwork but without the relief of seeing friends in person. I am separated from my mother and sisters by distance and air travel. I miss their voices and hugs. It’s not the same on the phone and online. I miss my father who died two years ago and who was so reassuring, like a great strong oak tree. What would he say about all this? There is so much uncertainty and powerlessness and heartache.

I seek comfort, so I stay up late “binging” on puzzles. I regret the fatigue hangover in the morning, and I talk to my sponsor and my fellows about it. I get my feelings up and out, giving them the fresh air and sunshine of the FA program. The feelings cannot fester and grow when I allow God to work through my fellows. Amidst all this chaos, I have the peace and calm of the FA program and my daily routine. I wake up and get on my knees, thanking God for my life, His love, and the gift of abstinence. I do my quiet time and then read some Program literature, including 24 Hours A Day, one of the “Just for Today Card” sayings, and the “St. Francis Prayer" or part of the “Acceptance” pages from Alcoholics Anonymous.

I go about my daily routine of talking on sponsor and sponsee calls, eating my abstinent breakfast, getting my kids off to school, and preparing food for the rest of the day. I pray throughout the day for God to help me be agreeable; to be less sensitive and self-centered. “God, help me not react to my daughters’ fighting, their frustration with the distance learning technology, their pre-teen outbursts or my husband’s finger tapping and quoting poetry and pacing around the house as he thinks through problems”. “God, please help me to show up – to play backgammon with my husband, to listen to whatever he wants to say with patience and interest, to read to my daughters, to cook and clean again and again.”

Some days it works. Some days it doesn’t, and I snap at someone, so sure that I’m justified! That doesn’t sit right, though, and I don’t have peace, so I take it to my sponsor, my fellows, quiet time; whatever is needed to find peace. I find the humility to see my part, and I make amends. It hurts, but the relief that comes when I work my program and humble myself is worth it. I am back in alignment with my Higher Power.

I go about my errands, praying for patience as I wait in line at the post office and the supermarket. I thank the postal worker and the checkout people; the essential workers who are showing up and dealing with the public, spending all day, every day, on their feet. I pray the resentment prayer for the people who annoy me when they don’t observe safety protocols appropriately. I go to gratitude regularly, making a list of the good things in my life, remembering to keep things in perspective.

I attend online gatherings and my AWOL (A Way of Life, a study of the Twelve Steps). Some days I attend eagerly, excited to get my medicine. Other days, I drag myself and sit there listening, wanting to fidget, bite my nails and cuticles, or chew on the inside of my mouth to distract myself. I resist the urge to pick up my phone or open the mail or move something on my desk. I take off my glasses so the world is blurrier and activity is less tempting. I stand up or stretch so I don’t doze off. Bringing my attention back to the call, I hear others speak of their hurt and gratitude and trials, and I get outside myself. I am grateful to hear their voices and to have this community at this time. I share and find comfort in others’ witnessing my struggles. I know it is a gift to have such a support network when so many don’t. Regardless of how I start, I always leave the gathering feeling better, refreshed, and more at ease.

At night, I write down my food, taking notes about what to discuss with my sponsor on our next call. I get on my knees and thank God for an abstinent day. I read my two pages in Alcoholics Anonymous.

FA is the foundation of my life.

I know these things to be true. An abstinent day is a good day. It is God’s will for me that I stay abstinent. I will stay abstinent if I do my tools and work the Twelve Steps. If my food is in order, my life is in order. I and my family need me abstinent now more than ever, and I am deeply grateful to FA for providing a stable and healthy way of life. Even in the midst of a pandemic, thanks to FA, I remain abstinent and my life just keeps getting better.