If not now, when? That was the question that came to mind as I sat alone facing one more “day one.” I had experienced eight months of relapse, and when I looked back, I could not recall one meaningful thing from those long months. All I had known was a constant struggle with food and weight.
It was lonely and quiet in my apartment in way that was hard for me to tolerate. I was at a crossroads. I felt the cravings start to rise, and I wondered if I was really going to be dragged to the store by disease, again. “Just one more time,” is what my disease told me. At that point, I had heard that phrase and believed it hundreds of times.
In pain and fear of what yet another binge would do to me, I dropped to my knees and prayed. All I could say was, “God help me.” I stayed still for a few moments and with that came the clarity that I needed to put more into my recovery than I ever had. I was going to have to go to new lengths…the kind that people with long-term recovery went to. The kind I had always balked at up until that moment.
“Please help me be willing to do that,” was my next prayer. It was clear that I couldn’t muster the willingness on my own. I was utterly powerless, and changing my behavior by myself was not possible. I picked up the phone and called a fellow who had been abstinent since I introduced her to FA, seven years prior. She had stayed abstinent all those years, while I kept struggling with horrific relapses about every two years. I asked her for help. That was a huge step. “What do you think it is,” I asked her, and that was a very scary question to ask. Then came the painful truth that she thought it was the artificial sweeteners and my attachment to them that kept me stuck. The gum, the soda, the sweeteners in my coffee; all the sweet things I thought I needed to help me make it from breakfast to lunch and then lunch to dinner. If I had an emotional feeling, I used something sweet to help me cope. I was leaning on those things instead of God, and they kept the cravings alive, continually leading me back to the food.
My lonely apartment started to be filled with hope. I knew I was just as addicted to those sweeteners as I was to real sugar, and that’s why I had never tried putting them down completely. It had been too scary. But now, staying stuck in relapse had become even scarier, and my denial was over. There was one more thing for me to try in getting abstinent, and that gave me hope.
It was humbling to finally realize that even though I had spent 12 years in recovery programs for food, I had never built a strong foundation on God. I never learned how to be uncomfortable without putting something in my mouth. This was a huge revelation for me. My newfound hope helped me surrender to FA more completely. I had to keep praying for the willingness to have feelings and just ride them out. I felt raw and vulnerable a lot of the time, but I learned how to feel all the emotions that life brings my way, and not try to sweeten up or deny them. What a concept!
It didn’t come easy. I had to be very intentional about my commitment to this new way of living in recovery. I had to choose; would I rely on God or on a stick of gum for my strength? When I looked at it that way, it made me giggle a bit and thank God for the willingness to make that critical decision. Now, one day at a time, I have stayed abstinent for nearly nine years, and I have developed spiritual muscles that help me rely on God and not gum.