Warding Off Isolation

One of the sayings I’ve heard a lot in FA is we have a disease of isolation. This is one I haven’t always strongly identified with. Yes, my world became fairly small at the height of my disease, consisting mostly of unhealthy romantic relationships and fair-weather friends who tolerated my eating and self-centered behavior. But I’ve always been close with my large, boisterous family and had at least small groups of people in my life. I wasn’t isolated. Early on, however, without the balm of food, alcohol, and high-drama social situations, I realized how afraid I became around people. The break at meetings was uncomfortable, so I stuck close to my sister who came to FA with me, or I wanted to escape to the bathroom. The lunchroom at work, parties, and any kind of social gathering made me realize that I do have the disease of isolation. Without a buffet to focus on, I’d much prefer to stay home and be comfortable.

I have learned in FA to show up despite my discomfort. The first way I began to do this was to have meals with FA friends before or after meetings. When I branched outside of FA to social gatherings, I was told to ask God for help and look for someone else in the room that was uncomfortable and talk to them. Slowly, it became somewhat easier to show up as my world became larger. I learned to eat lunch in the conference room with colleagues, show up at parties, even to host some of my own.

Now, the pandemic has given me an excuse not to socialize at all for long stretches of time. I prefer to stay in my PJs and watch TV or read over being with people. However, my husband is much more social than I am, and it is good for my recovery and my marriage to be willing to go out with people outside of my nuclear family occasionally.

A couple of weeks ago, one of my husband’s friends asked us to go to dinner with him and his wife. Although my first internal instinct was no thank you, outwardly, I agreed and suggested a restaurant where it would be easy for me to eat abstinently. As the day approached, I became reluctant to go to the restaurant we chose. The omicron variant of COVID was in full force. We had contracted the virus a month prior, and I really didn’t want to risk getting it again. I told my husband my concerns and he agreed. The others suggested we get takeout from the restaurant and eat at our house.

Admittedly, I have not done this often, so I talked to my sponsor about the details, and she assured me this would be fine. She told me how she does takeout with company when she doesn’t have the time or energy to entertain. Despite this assurance, on Thursday night (the date was on Saturday) I began to go a little berserk about dinner, obsessively asking my husband questions. How would I know what to order for the other couple? Should I weigh my food in front of them? Do we eat out of the to-go containers or on plates? Then my thoughts shifted to me, What if my portions don’t equal the portions on my food plan, do I cook more? Then what’s the point of not cooking? Why am I always cooking? This isn’t fair, Why do I have to be so weird? Why does FA make me do this?

Realizing my thoughts were getting out of control, I texted my sponsor and told her what was going on. She said although she might be missing something, she didn’t understand why it needed to be complicated. She suggested sending the other couple the menu, asking them what they’d like, ordering for myself, and picking up the food. That sounded sane, so we did that, and I let it go.

I made a large salad for everyone to share and weighed mine beforehand. When the food arrived, I weighed my portions out. I don’t even think our guests noticed what I was doing even though I had the scale on the counter right in front of them. If they did, they didn’t say anything or even look at me askew.

This kind of thing has happened to me before. I realized afterwards that I still have some of that social anxiety or the disease of isolation that comes along with my disease of food addiction. Once I let go of the food situation, I realized I had been practicing our conversation in my mind, wondering what the other couple would think of our house or our child’s behavior, and how to sensitively respond to their difficult situation with their family.

Although I’m not particularly proud of the whirlwind I put my husband through about a simple dinner with friends, I later realized that what I was really worried about was not just the food. The difference in my life in recovery is that I reached out and asked for help from my sponsor and the God of my understanding. I put on a size 4 outfit and felt good about how I looked. I weighed and measured a clean, abstinent meal, and had a good time. While the wine was flowing and the appetizers were shared among the others, I felt at peace and fulfilled with my abstinent meal and the fact that I don’t live in isolation, one day at a time.