Surrender

I had been in FA for about seven years when I called my sponsor while visiting my son on an armed services base. As we were speaking, she suggested I surrender something. I can’t remember if it was a situation or a habit, but I do remember being angry and frustrated. Hadn’t I surrendered enough in this program? I told my son about the situation and said, “I don’t really even know what surrender means.”

He responded that surrender was simple. In the armed services, they were given four steps: Stop fighting, put down your weapon, shut your mouth, and do what they say.

I realized I was stuck on the very first step of this process. I didn’t want to stop fighting! I still wanted to do what I wanted to do. I didn’t want advice from anyone else.

The interesting point is that I had probably told my sponsor about my tendency to resist suggestions because I truly did need and want some guidance. But if someone told me what I didn’t want to hear, especially that I had to surrender a behavior or situation, I argued against it.

Why is it so difficult for this food addict to change direction based on the insight of another? I think it’s because I am an addict. That stubbornness and determination to continue doing what I wanted to, even if it harmed me, was a part of my character that I guess I didn’t want to give up. I had developed that characteristic to protect me when I was young. Today, I realize it no longer serves me.

I have finally come to realize that for me to progress and become the person I was meant to be, I need to let go and weigh and measure the advice of another. I don’t treat my sponsor or folks with long-term recovery like gods, but when I ask for an opinion or help, I want to truly hear it. So today I have my ears more open. I am more willing to change.

I want to cease fighting with anything or anyone. In the 19 years since I came into this program, my life has gotten so much better. I have worked through emotional upheavals such as death of parents, a divorce, children leaving home, financial challenges, multiple surgeries (some requiring intensive therapy), developing severe asthma, retiring, and living alone during a global pandemic.

I discovered that, rather than fighting the situation or refusing to accept it, if I turn to my Higher Power and my fellows for support, I am no longer alone.

The one fact I accept about myself is that I still can argue. I am not perfect. When a pulmonologist told me at the age of 62 that I had developed severe asthma, I told him that he was wrong. Looking back, I have to chuckle at my insistence on arguing against the facts. Acceptance is the answer to all of my problems today. If I stay abstinent, do every tool every day, and work the steps continually, I will get better. My weight stays the same. My emotional stability and spiritual connection will increase. The result is incredible joy.