LITTLE THINGS MEAN A LOT



Dear Friends on the Journey,

My name is Mari and I am and always have been and always will be a perfect example of a compulsive eater. I have been everywhere this disease can take us and as part of my recovery program, I journal my thoughts and feelings. Thank you for letting me share them with you in my recovery journal.

"Spiritual recovery is often not dramatic. It's made up of little moments like this one,
moments when we open ourselves to relationships rather than turning away,
moments when we dare to perceive and to trust the love that's within us and around us.
 Twelve-step spirituality is grounded in our caring for these little moments."
. . . . . . . . Holy Hunger ~ A Memoir of Desire



Somehow I always felt my life should be glamorous, spectacular or heroic. I'm not sure where I got that idea but I'm convinced that for several decades being "ordinary" was about as bad as it got. I had to be the best ... or the prettiest ... or the smartest. And if I wasn't, then I would just have to work harder, or find a different hairstyle, diet or make-up ... or transfer colleges or get better teachers. After all, I was going to be a concert pianist and travel all over the world thrilling people with my music.

My glamorous, spectacular and heroic life took a temporary respite when I had four children. My glamour, (if it could ever be called that), became dowdy. My spectacular accomplishments (which weren't that at all) and my heroism (the most ludicrous of them all) were nonexistent. But those years were to pass quickly and soon, unencumbered by little babies, I found myself wanting to be glamorous, spectacular and heroic again. I poured myself into a career that was wall-to-wall music, concerts, recitals, meetings, conventions and met the love-of-my life - teaching. There were more and more big moments and fewer and fewer little moments. I was good at what I did and the better I got the harder I worked. The harder I worked the more stressful my life became. That was okay ... I found the perfect stress reducer. Food! Lots and lots and lots of food. And there's probably not a single one of you reading this who doesn't know the rest of the story because you've all been there and done that. You've seen firsthand the makings of a compulsive eater. You've lived the life and no amount of someone else's journal will give you new knowledge of what the life of a COE is about.

What ever happened to my "little moments"? Did everything have to be spectacular? Bigger than life? My big moments turned into emptiness because at some point life seemed to be just one big moment after another and I began to miss the little moments. And then I discovered the Twelve Steps. And God. And other COEs. And a plan of eating. And sanity. And very soon one little moment after another. A bird flying overhead. A new leaf on my favorite plant. A simple meal. A game of Scrabble. A cool breeze. A one-finger melody rather than a full orchestra. An I love you whispered with meaning. The words "I'm home, Love." I didn't have a gangbuster spiritual awakening. It came quietly ... steadily ... one little moment at the time.

"Twelve-step spirituality is grounded in our caring for these little moments.  In the past, I would have overlooked them as unworthy of my attention, too insignificant to notice.  Who cared what happened while I ate a moderately sized meal? And what was the value of moderation anyway? I was used to - and some ways I preferred - the drama of extremes: a wild binge or a lengthy fast, the lurid excess of a no-holds-barred, blowout feast or the transparent purity of near-starvation.  Why? Because, when it came right down to it, I had no awareness at my core that anyone really cared about me.  I didn't believe that I was really seen and known and loved.  Most of the time I wasn't sure what I really wanted or really felt. Perhaps at some level I even wondered whether I myself was real."
. . . . . . . . Holy Hunger


My life today is not glamorous, spectacular or heroic. Each day finds me doing little things and cherishing these little things. My world is now full of precious little moments and I would never want it any other way.

Dear God,
May the little things you send my way continue to be cherished.
Thank you for allowing me to see the beauty of even the tiniest thing.
Thank you for getting my attention and helping me stop and smell the roses.


Love,
Mari
Marisok@aol.com
The Recovery Group




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