~ FROM THE RECOVERY GROUP MEMBERS ~
Keep on keeping on...
I have always been touched by ebb and flow of life in the changing
seasons of nature. As I live out my recovery, I have been receiving more
and more awareness of how recovery also has an ebb and flow so similar to
the to the transformation of the seasons ~ all calling forth life!!
I headed off on a journey one winter weekend this year, and on the way
learned a lesson about my recovery journey. As I headed out of town the
roads had turned to ice, but I decided to drive ahead to the highways
...because they are so often clearer than the roads in town. I was
initially sooooo relieved, the roads were clear. Whew!! I was sure all
ahead was sooth sailing!
That experience of smooth sailing lasted until I changed directions ...
then I drove into complete whiteout ... There was nothing to do but keep
going slowly ... and I slowly drove through it to a clear space. Hmmmmm
... should I turn around? I decided not, there were only 26 miles of this
journey on these country roads ... then it would be on freeway for the
remaining 90 miles ... that would be an easier drive. I decided to
keep on going.
I continued encountering whiteout ... but then making my way through it. I
figured as long as I traveled slow and steady - all would be well. Then,
I hit the huge Z curve in the road ... and the white out was so bad that I
could not see the road (it was completely snow packed), I could not see
the sides of the road (they were completely snow packed also),and I could
not see in front of me more than a foot .... and I had no idea whether or
not I had the wheel of the car turned in the proper direction to take the
curve correctly. I literally could see nothing but the very space I was
in at each instant. I almost came to a complete halt - wondering if there
were any cars coming ... knowing my only choice here was to keep on
keeping on. And so, I did.
The curve was the most frightening moment ... and it was obvious that the
conditions were worsening each moment - and at this point it would have
been more difficult to try to turn around as to proceed. So, I kept on
...
As I continued down this road ... occasionally there would be a stream of
four or five cars headed towards me ... and when I could see their lights
coming ... I knew more clearly which direction to head ... and that the
road was passable. I was sooooo grateful each time, for those on the road
shining their lights ... helping me to see which direction to go.
As I traveled this road, sometimes the space was clear enough that I could
see where I was headed... sometimes I could see the lights guiding me
through the snow , and I followed them in gratitude ... and sometimes I
could see nothing ahead at all ... simply the very white space surrounding
me in the moment, and I inched my way through that space in faith ...
keeping on keeping on.
Those experiences remind me of my recovery journey. :)
~Sometimes I think I have it all together, and am skipping and singing
down the road to recovery.
~Sometimes I question where I am going, and am deeply grateful for the ESH
of the many others on this road who help me to find direction.
~Sometimes I can not see anything at all, and I simply keep on keeping on
...Knowing that All is in God, all is life-giving, and ALL IS WELL.
More and more I am aware of the ebb and flow of life and recovery ... and
that everything is working just fine!! When life feels a little out of
sorts, that's ok - all I have to do is keep on keeping on ... the recovery
journey continues through it all. And, like the changing seasons - each
part of this journey contains the gift of life!!
Cate

Step Twelve
"We can only keep what we have by giving it away" is often heard in
program, but it seems to me that it is also true that "We multiply what
we have by giving it away." This second formulation, for a greedy man
like me, seems more promising and inspiring.
This is the promise of Step Twelve, that by giving the opportunity to
profit from the message to others, we multiply the strength of the
message, the fellowship, and the resource pool we have to draw on. By
helping others, we help ourselves also. This is reminiscent of the
Christian loaves and fishes story: the message is like spiritual bread
multiplied by the miracle of loving giving, and our emotions, and healthy
mental-emotional habits, are like the fishes of the school, which are also
multiplied to provide better nutrition for all.
J. G. Bennett, a physically deceased spiritual teacher, referred to
conscious cooperation between man and God as synergism. Synergy in
science, as explicated by R. B. Fuller, is the holistic action of a system
and the products of that action, which cannot be predicted by the summing
of the parts, except by reference to previous actions, and the addition of
the components produced by synergetic combination, as predicted from
lessons of past experience.
Step Twelve is about synergism, and the benefits of Step Twelve emerge
from synergy's action. Conscious Step Twelve Planning is about learning
and understanding more of the properties, and benefits, of synergistic
strategy, in order to increase benefits of such synergetic activities.
Synergy is part of God's creation, that plays an active role in man's
salvation. Such action can produce what, to the uninformed, are amazing
and miraculous events.
Today, I thank God for synergy and synergism, and strive to learn more
about how to utilize them effectively in God's service, as a means of
manifesting my gratitude and appreciation for what I have been gifted
with.
Jim

Jo here, a recovering coe.
Nothing stands still. Anything with life is on the move, either forward,
up, backward, sideways. Life is always moving. Only things with no life
are still. It is a fact of life. The God of my understanding made it
that way. Not only is movement a part of life, it moves other things and
picks up people and stuff and carries them along, weather good or bad.
Movement creates more movement.
In OA we are never still. We are growing as we practice the 12 steps. If
we do not practice the 12 steps we are not growing. It is an either/or
situation. If we don't work, neither does the program. It doesn't take
much energy to work the program. Only a desire to work. When the desire
enters the mind and the spirit agrees, the body follows. The body is the
weak link. It always follows the heart and mind. That is why it is
necessary to keep the program uppermost in our minds. When that happens
we are growing in the program. We are never still. If we don't keep
our mind on the program we are falling into relapse. Again the movement
creates movement. Falling into relapse only begets more relapse and the
relapse grows.
We as compulsive overeaters have to be on guard to keep our growth going
in the right direction. We will never stand still. Let's be sure we grow
in abstinence.

Thank you for the opportunity to write about my addiction and my new quest
for recovery.
I remember the first time I knew that eating what I wanted was wrong when
I was nine years of age. I was told by my parents (gently, I think) that
I was too fat. Perhaps it could have been their counsel in response to a
less than sensitive child at school who called me "blob" or "fatso,"
making me cry. It may have also been in response to other peer insults.
Maybe it was because I did not make the Little League team because I was
slow and uncoordinated and had to join the "farm team." I remember
dieting for the
first time that summer and I think I lost four pounds. I was proud of
myself, but also confused. Why couldn't I eat what I want? How come
other friends ate candy and junk and did not gain the weight like I did?
It wasn't fair.
At this time, I was also becoming aware that alcoholism, anger, and abuse,
were problems in my family. I had an uncle (my father's brother) who
lived next door to us. Once when we were home from school, he came over
to the house in a drunken rage with a shotgun, threatening to shoot my
mother. I also remember him falling into a fireplace when he was drunk.
He committed suicide when I was in my early twenties.
My father also used to tell me that his father was a drunk. This story
got more "golden" after his father
died of a heart attack, taking on a "Bunyanesque" quality. He would say
things like, "My father got so mad at me when he found out I was drinking
that he tore a door right off its hinges." I think this was the way he
distanced himself from the man who my mother says did abuse my father.
Later, in my teens, I would learn that my mother's father was also a
drunk. Her father preferred whiskey and scotch and was also physically and
emotionally abusive to her and her brother. Neither of my parents drank,
partly because, I believe, the experience of being the super responsible
oldest child in an alcoholic family was scary enough. My father was
scared to drink because of what he saw it do to his family. Perhaps it
was for the same reason that my mother didn't drink. So, at this point in
my life I had both the family dysfunction and the hereditary
pre-disposition for developing an addiction.
After a very difficult adjustment in high school (I moved in tenth grade
to another school), peer pressure and the desire to be accepted led me to
my first use of marijuana. This progressed into using Dexedrine (orally
or inhaling), LSD (a LOT), hashish, and Quaaludes. I also began drinking
more and more, but mostly beer. In my early twenties, I began to do
cocaine, more LSD, smoked a lot of marijuana, and was drinking more and
more. In short, anything that could go in my mouth or up my nose when
there.
Nothing in my veins, however. A brief period of sobriety occurred in my
early twenties, when I married for the first time. What this marriage was
really about, however, was driving an angry wedge between my wife and me
and my family. My wife was from an upper class family. Her father was an
insurance executive and he got me a "real" job in an insurance company. I
diligently sought to adopt a false identity and to be just like him,
complete with Brooks Brother Suits, wingtip shoes, and a brief case. I
looked just like the other insurance executives. I really tried to be
someone for the first time in my life. A white collar executive, not
a lowly blue collar laborer, like my father. This false identity only hid
the real anger, low self-esteem, and poorly constructed identity that was
who I was. I succeeded in totally alienating my family, and then, when
the cracks in my self wore thin, I abused my wife out of anger at her when
I realized that she was getting more attention from her executive father
than I was and that I was getting left behind. She soon divorced me, and
I was totally alone and 26 years old. I was isolated from my family, and
my inlaws alienated me.
So what did I do? I went back home. I went back to the old
neighborhood. I tried to get my rock band back together. Started drinking
more and more because I had lost my old drug dealer contacts. My parents
were also divorcing at the time. My father and I lived together after my
mother moved out and all we did was fight. He kicked me out that winter
and I ended up renting a room from a young woman who advertised the room
in the newspaper and whose boyfriend was a dope dealer. Talk about
landing on
your feet (or head?), right? This would later fizzle as I recognized,
somehow, that doing drugs at 27 was "wrong." But drinking was O.K.,
right? So I retreated to my own apartment, lived alone, and wrote
self-pitying poetry long into the night with a bottle of Bacardi rum at my
side. I thought I was Rod McKuen. I soon believed I could not write
poetry unless I drank at least a half-pint or more of rum a night. I also
began to experiment with other liquors, learning I liked gin. I
rationalized all this as a "mystical" and "spiritual" quest for "the
self." It worked for Jim Morrison and the "beat poets," didn't it? I now
laugh at everything about this period of my life except that through this
perversity, I did some actual spiritual searching, becoming a Buddhist,
and met the woman who is now my wife.
After becoming a Buddhist and marrying my wife, I felt like I was cured.
I no longer did drugs, I no longer drank. I stopped smoking cigarettes.
Life was good, except that, after two years of marriage, my wife and I
were having problems with "intimacy." I had a lot of mixed up messages
about marriage from my own family of origin and guilt and confusion from
my earlier marriage. My wife also had difficulty opening up to me, and
this caused confusion, anger, and hurt. I would later learn from her that
she was an anorexic, starting at age eleven, going through her teens. We
both shared our crazy and unhealthy pasts. We both went into
psychotherapy. This helped both of us reappraise and close off those
things that influenced us to engage in addictive behavior.
I also decided, again, to get a "real" career, gaining admission to
graduate school and a doctoral program in clinical psychology. My wife
thought I was finally getting some peace of mind, doing what I "really"
wanted with my life. Except that now, the obsessive-compulsive behavior
that is addiction manifested itself in excessive study rituals, excluding
my wife from what was really going on with me, masquerading that I was
doing this "for our family" and that if she wanted it too for "us," she
needed to let me study. I also began gaining weight because my life was
so unbalanced. I wasn't taking time for me. I was studying hard to
complete my doctoral study and obtaining prestigious training
opportunities, yet I was neglecting myself. As I write this, I weigh 295
pounds and 95 of this was put on after my marriage in 1990 and through my
college and graduate school years, which was most of the 1990's. I did
not pay this weight gain much attention, however, until the physical
problems began. My feet and knees constantly hurt, I have insomnia, I was
diagnosed with sleep apnea two years ago, and I have a herniated lumbar
disk, mostly from the pressure of my weight and poor posture. My blood
pressure has increased, and my doctor is now considering
medication for hypertension.
Still, however, I didn't think that my eating was a real problem and
certainly not an addiction, although I tried Weight Watchers this year,
losing 22 pounds before relapsing. In May, needing some extra money to
pay the family bills, I took a second job working --of all things -- as an
addiction counselor. I had some training in addiction counseling and
certainly had enough family history to justify a "need" to work with
others who were addicts. But who was I? I didn't do "drugs." I didn't
drink. However, I knew I could not stop eating. I knew, somehow, a few
years back -- perhaps from my wife's history with anorexia -- that
compulsive eating was a real problem. I had read several books, including
books on dieting and compulsive eating. As I worked with addicted
persons, and through the internet, I began to search. I found the OA
website, treatment programs for binge eating, and other compulsive eating
sites. I also began to think that I was an addict, after all. In
appraising my life, I saw all the signs and realized that I too had been
an addict all along -- forming an unhealthy bond with food since I was
nine years of age.
As I write this, I have just started going to OA groups, have re-appraised
the work that I do with addicted persons from being a "psychologist" to
being a person in recovery, just like them. Struggling with the steps.
Just last night I felt a sense of fear, sadness, and shame about admitting
that I had a food addiction. I was going to tell another counselor, but
as I began to re-appraise my motives for doing so, I chose not to. In the
past I would often try to seek help from others in a dependent way,
expecting too much from them, expecting them to save me. To love me. I
am sure that this comes from my childhood and family dysfunction. In
nearly every case with other people I meet who occupy a position of
influence in
my life, my expectations for them become too high and unmet, only hurting
me in the process. This time, I have chosen to pursue my recovery for me
and me only, but with the loving support of my family, co-workers, and
cybersupport group members.
Thank you for this opportunity. I am struggling with this, but coming to
terms with my identity as an "addict" -- for me -- may be the best thing I
have ever done for myself. It may also be the best thing that I have done
for the others who love me.
Thanks for letting me share.
George.
~ FROM THE LITERATURE ~
The Promises from the Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous
We are going to know a new freedom and a new happiness.
We will not regret the past nor wish to shut the door on it.
We will comprehend the word serenity.
And we will know peace.
No matter how far down the scale we have gone, we will see how our
experience can benefit others.
That feeling of uselessness and self-pity will disappear.
We will lose interest in selfish things and gain insight in our fellows.
Self-seeking will slip away.
Our whole attitude and outlook will change.
Fear of people and economic insecurity will leave us.
We will intuitively know how to handle situations which used to baffle us.
We will suddenly realize that God is doing for us what we could not do for
ourselves.

~ Reflections on The Twelve Steps of Recovery ~
"Made a searching and fearless
moral inventory of ourselves."
~~THE FOURTH STEP~~
Sunday, we admitted we were powerless over food. Monday we came to
believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity.
Yesterday we made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the
care of God as we understood Him. And today .... the Fourth Step. We
begin having to do some footwork. Everything is not going to be about
just plain faith. We're going to have to get busy. Footwork doesn't just
do itself. We must prepare for the step which most OAers seems to dread
... and because we
dread it .... we begin to procrastinate. So hear we go. The Fourth Step.
A searching and fearless MORAL inventory of OURSELVES???? I think of the
neighborhood grocery store when I think of doing an inventory. Counting
cans of soup and boxes of cereal and punching numbers into a computer to
see what are the good sellers and what are the bad. Taking our own
inventory is much the same as that. We begin to do some soul searching.
We pull out our computers or our pencils and begin to write. And write
and write and write. We go back over our entire life and write down
everything we can possibly think of about ourselves ... but not just those
bad things about us but also the good.
And as those bits and pieces of our character are laid out on a piece of
paper or on a floppy disk ... we suddenly begin to see the areas of our
life in which we have done things so very wrong. Hurts we have inflicted
on other people. Duties we have shirked. Sins we have committed. Some
more serious than others. And we are careful not to forget to write down
returning that money we found that we could just as easily have kept. The
kindness to the elderly lady in the nursing home that we went to see every
Sunday for four months. And then back to gossiping on our best friend.
And lying to our spouse. And stealing from our employer.
And then off to the other side of the page and remember our agreeing to
commit ourselves to one year serving in the soup kitchen and that had
turned into five. And on and on we go. And then we rest .... but it is
not over.
The next day we begin again ... and we are becoming more courageous. We
write down the affair we had ten years ago. And the money we stole. And
all the lies. And even things more serious. And as my sponsor used to
say ... as the ink came out of the pen, the poison came out of the soul.
And so we wrote some more. And prayed. And reflected. My God!!!!! How
bad we seemed to be! So we began to focus on some more good things. And
suddenly saw how good we were.
Our inventory was taken. Not everything ... but much of it. There will
still be things that pop into our minds. And we will forever be doing 4th
steps. But never quite like the first one. Never quite as bone-chilling
as that lifetime of things some of which we've never even admitted to
ourselves.
We have taken our Fourth Step. We have made that searching and fearless
moral inventory of ourselves. And we feel the weight of the world has
been lifted from our shoulders. And about 10 pounds off our bodies. And
a world of shame from our psyches. And we feel cleansed .... and
refreshed .... and wholesome ..... and we are beginning to like ourselves
.... No! We are beginning to LOVE ourselves.
Dear God,
Help me to not avoid
taking my fourth step. Give
me the courage to be honest
and do my inventory with integrity ....
and with courage ... and at the same time,
help us to keep loving ourselves from the time
we pick up the pen until we put it down again.

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