Twenty years ago, I saw a new doctor for a package of symptoms including arthritis, aches and pains, and depression. She explained the results of a battery of blood tests, exam results, and consultations. Then she diagnosed my only real medical problem—obesity. She handed me the FA leaflet and suggested I consider the program. I resisted.
I had been in OA and hadn’t lost enough weight to matter, had a history of serious dieting, and had given up. Other than a few light mentions of the benefits of weight reduction, no other doctor had ever confronted me about my weight or used that word (obesity) in connection with me. I was angry and resentful. It took me three months before I came into FA.
My sponsor suggested I try making three calls after breakfast and not think too much about what I was going to say. In the past, I always loved talking to folks. I sometimes struck up conversations that were apparently sometimes embarrassing, on park benches and in waiting rooms. While standing in the grocery store line, my young children begged me not to talk to absolutely everyone. Even worse, I checked out mentally while continuing to talk, hurting feelings or offending others with what I thought were clever, creative comments.
I began outreach calls with confidence, but was dismayed by my hesitation and balking. I didn’t want to call these strangers on a list, and my initial calls were not encouraging. One of the first produced a sleepy response from a fellow who had probably gone back to bed. It was weird to keep talking, but I told her about my anguish over calls. She yawned and interrupted with, “It’ll all line up after a while.”
What a wonderful statement, this “lining up.” I began to think of my calls as soldiers lined up for a parade. I imagined them in red jackets and tall black hats and set them in place, one abreast of the other.
It worked. I now make calls with ease. The soldiers have gone somewhere to rest, but I know I can summon them if I need them. My isolation is diminishing and telling fellows the truth about myself has become less difficult, just a normal extension of our fellowship.
The surprise is how much this fellowship helps me move through the ups and downs of life. Recently, much of my energy was spent holding down the panic of a major move, until I dared discuss my fears with a fellow. She suggested I take a little longer with decisions and that I go through each object in my stuffed house and think of its use in my past. My 20-year-old past with old boots and horse clippers didn’t march willingly into my present.
Once when I was taking care of my toddler grandchild, I found the days too long and overcommitted, sometimes ending with everybody crying. I had also taken on several extra service positions in FA. My sponsor had suggested I find a temporary sponsor during her brief absence, but I had tried to go it alone. I finally confessed my exhaustion and my resentments of all things Program to a fellow, who suggested I call my sponsor immediately. She also warned me that by foregoing morning quiet time, I was missing essential spiritual support.
The call to my sponsor calmed me, and the serenity I felt after my newly reinstalled quiet time set the tone for my day. My resentments turned to gratitude.
Outreach is a major part of my growing recovery in FA. I have problems, not unlike other people’s problems. I have only to release my hold on them and surrender to the care and love of fellows and ultimately to my Higher Power. I have help, always, and that help is a gift I can return in kind when asked.