Acting on vs. Reacting to...

At every OA meeting certain materials are read, the invitation, twelve steps, twelve traditions, etc. Early in my OA days, I wondered if I'd start getting bored, if repeating the same material every week was maybe a little stupid.

After more than a year, I'm the first to say, it's neither boring or stupid. In fact, nearly every meeting I hear something new in it, something significant jumps forward, making an impression.

Today it was the passage in the invitation that says (roughly paraphrased): we learn to act on the things that happen in our lives rather than react to them. I immediately thought about last night and applied those words to the situation, trying to imagine how I could have acted on rather than reacting to. Here's what happened.

Late yesterday afternoon, my husband and I went to a multi-family barn/garage sale. I'm hyper-aware right now of all my stuff and am trying to lighten my load. My husband is a hoarder and compulsive shopper. Yep, lots of stuff there for him. He kept finding one more irresistible bargain until he had what seemed to be a mountain of stuff, a whole car trunk full. My irritation grew accordingly until it was a correspondingly-sized mountain of anger, criticism, judgements and resentments.

But knowing what happens if I show him my anger, I tried as best I could to keep the lid on it. I did say that the large, multiple-holder, fake brass, candelabra he bought for $5 was ugly. Other than that, I stuffed my feelings.

Next we went out to dinner at an upscale Mexican-SW restaurant that was really busy. Chips were served immediately and we ordered. Ate the chips, all of them. They brought another basket of chips. Ate them too. Ate the dinner as well when it finally arrived. Went home stuffed, uncomfortable, reaching for the now infrequently needed Tums.

What was I doing?

1. I was over eating.
2. I was compulsively over eating.
3. I was mindlessly over eating, seeking to numb myself I suppose.
4. I was reacting to my husband buying more stuff.
   
5. I was reacting to the delay in getting our food.
6. I was reacting to stuffed anger and resentment.

This is a really good lesson or example I can use to explore what I might have done if I thought about acting on these situations. I'll take them one at a time.

A few possibilities for acting on the garage sale situation.

1. Say the serenity prayer to myself. Pray for serenity.
2. Think about what I can change... maybe my attitude.
3. Think about what I can not change... maybe his habit of accumulating more stuff.
4. Think about what I could ask him to change at this time... maybe ask him if he would put back half of the stuff.
5. Speak about my anger, not directing it at him, but asking him if he understands that bringing more stuff to our home upsets me, even when it's nice or useful.
6. Knowing of his tendency in advance, perhaps I could have made a bargain before we got there, an agreement that we would each get so many "tickets" (good for buying one thing per ticket), whatever we could agree on. Then maybe I could give him one of mine.
7. Once we departed, recognizing my anger, name it, bring forward forgiveness, remember anger never solves problems, recognize that I'll probably want to eat compulsively because of it.

Baby steps. Baby steps for me, for my sanity, toward learning to act rather than react.

And the delay at the restaurant?

1. Yikes, I don't know... how could I act rather than react? Well, first I'd have to recognize that I was reacting, that eating chips was reacting.
2. Make a conscious effort to be mindful about each chip.
3. Name what I'm doing... "I am compulsively eating these chips."
4. Make a conscious effort to ask myself, "Why am I compulsively eating these chips?" And then, "Is it really helping the situation?"

There must be more and better things I can do. The point now is just that I recognize the importance of learning about and experimenting with the concept of acting on situations where I am feeling angry, resentful, fearful, etc. It's tricky and will take conscious effort, probably for quite a while.

Dealing with Disappointment and Grief

How do I deal with disappointment and grief? Used to be I ate my way through it, cookie after cookie, chocolate after chocolate.

I have a very vague memory of when the pattern started. When my biological father died just before I turned five and my mother immediately decided to return to college, my brother and I were dispatched to live with our grandparents for two years. In my family, crying was definitely not OK. Daddy and Mommy were gone, but I was not to cry. One time at the breakfast table, when I started to cry, my grandmother tried to make it all better by pouring syrup on my waffle, noting that she was filling every hole. I actually recall looking at that delicious-smelling, thick, rich maple syrup, my tears evaporating as she filled all the holes with it.

How poignant! Filling every hole, indeed! Not filling any of the deep holes in little me, crying in disappointment or grief or loneliness. Yet, hmmm, she's paying attention to me, giving me something to fix my woes, sugar pops into my mouth bite after bite and guess what? I start to feel better. I learn that sugar fills my holes. NOT!

Indeed, she didn't know any better and I unconditionally forgive her. Yet, there began a life-time pattern of trying to fill grief holes with sugar. My OA sponsor says this is very common with women who overeat. She believes, when doing Step 4 (listing defects of character), that more of women's defects stem from grief than from resentment, which is common for men. She encourages me to look at how I've handled grief and disappointment in my life, at how pacifying with eating sugar may negatively affect my character and behaviours.

OK, I was 5 or so when the syrup incident happened and 67 when I stopped eating sugar as a solution. So for 62 years, I more or less unknowingly smothered my grief in sugar consumption. That's a long time.

What happens when I eat a lot of sugar is that I get cranky, really nasty sometimes. I can recall yelling at my parents, at my siblings, at girlfriends, at boyfriends, at co-workers and often at my poor husband after overdosing on sugar. Lots of mean spirited yelling over trivial things.

Interesting, isn't it, that this character defect, the yelling, is an indirect result of not dealing directly with grief and disappointment. I've doubtless harmed others, at least harmed my relationships with them, with my angry yelling, never even considering for a moment that the basis might be my own unexpressed grief rather than something they did to cause me irritation.

For the past seven months sugar has not been an option. Did I have disappointments and grief during that time? Yes. And I note that the anger response is still in me, even without the sugar to trigger mood swings. It's habitual. I need to change this. Awareness is the first step. Notice grief. Notice disappointment. Name it. Sit with it. When anger wells up in me, ask myself, what is making me feel sad.

Not OK to be on the pity pot? Nope, it's not. Yet, unfortunate, unplanned, unwanted, sad things happen. I must learn to recognize and allow grief into my life, and not just the big things like death of a loved one or pet, but also the day-to-day disappointments, even the ones that seem trivial. Not pity pot, but to be mindful of sadness, that is my journey now.

A Traveler's Food Choices

a traveler's food choices

often in restaurants

and in my case

in family homes

are certainly more challenging

than when safely in one's own home

yesterday I picked up rolls

at a scrumptious bakery

as my contribution to dinner

samples

omg! samples!

long one of my greatest downfalls

some sort of cinnamon-swirl goodie

and something with frosting and nuts

didn't think

forgot about my food plan

entirely

I'll try a sample of that one, I said

carried it to my car

along with the rolls I purchased

seat-belted myself

and took a big chomp

ooooops, this is sweet

ooooops, frosting

ooooops, this thing isn't a bread sample

shall I finish eating it?

I'm in my car eating it

knowing it's technically an abstinence food

knowing I don't eat in my car anymore

knowing I'm eating between meals

which also I don't do anymore

did I spit it out? no

did I throw the other two bites out? no

did I eat them

even though I knew it was

in violation of both my

food plan and abstinence list?

yes

I'm sorry to say, mea culpa

what now?

shall I start my abstinence count again

yes, I suppose so

I don't want to start again

loving and being attached

to the number 90

today's number

I really resist

setting the counter

back to zero

but I will

because that's the truth

and the way it works best

is to stick with the truth

I forgive myself

for yesterday's mistake

wrapping the truth of it

around my neck

like a beautiful scarf

and move along the path

of today's food choices

armed this time

with greater awareness

and a stronger commitment

to feel my feelings

first

before reaching for samples

or whatever is offered

Couldn't Get to Sleep Last Night

couldn't sleep last night
mind chatter
obsessive thinking

about our marriage counseling session
earlier during the day

about Dad's birthday the next day
on 9-11
double sadness for me
missing Dad
missing trust

about my long to-do list
seems long when its in my mind
about my next art project
about the sweater I want to knit

about how it's chilly
and my feet are freezing
about why I make the choice
to stay in bed
rather than get up
to fetch an extra blanket

about my solo road trip
leaving in just over a week
and all the route possibilities
about my stamina for driving
3,600 miles
that's round trip

about my husband and me
about how we want each other
to be like we were when we met
about how difficult it is
to accept the changes
that inevitably come
with aging
about how much better
our life together might be
if we could respect
who we are right now
about how we could do that
about if we could do that
about continuing changes
it's not going to get easier
is it

about respect and love
about forgiveness
about giving and growing

about how maybe I should
get up and read for a while
about how it's now 6 am
and I still haven't slept
about how the day will go
with so little sleep
about all these things again
and again

and then it's 7 am
about how I'm still cold
even though I finally
did get a second blanket
about how it's almost time
to get up
and go to my OA meeting

how could I forget
the two best tools I have

mindfulness
a mindful practice
noting the working
of my mind
not what it was thinking
not how it was thinking
just that it is thinking

and the other is
prayer
god, grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change
the courage to change the things I can
and the wisdom to know the difference

tonight, god,
I place my busy mind
in your hands

Avoidance

Mia culpa... I am avoiding writing about the second challenge mentioned two posts ago. And it's already here, blossoming to full size in about 9 hours. I am avoiding because I don't want to tell or face the whole truth about the situation. I don't want to deal with the past and I am a little apprehensive about the future.

In this moment all is well. I am following my food plan and doing what I have to do. I am sane and sober.

But I feel insecurity creeping toward me. Will writing help? I don't want my journal to read like true confessions, even though it is for me and for my healing.... I'm waffling about this.

So, guess I'll write the outline... the part that is more or less factual... the part that isn't so much about my feelings.

About 30 years ago I was in Eastern Europe, then under Communist control, and met a family, who were members of an ethnic minority group in the country where they lived. Their ethnic group suffered much persecution. The father (I'll call him J) wanted to get his two children out of that country and raise them in a politically free country.

I helped by getting information for them and by raising money to pay for bribes and expenses (getting the family out of the country was very tricky). For a while, they lived in a limbo status in another country. I visited them there a few times.

After a couple of years living hand to mouth, moving frequently, trying to get into Western Europe but not succeeding, they finally found an opportunity to get into Denmark as political refugees. There they settled, learning Danish, adjusting to a very different culture and eventually becoming citizens.

When they first went to Denmark, they knew nobody. J and his wife were worried about what would happen to the kids if anything should happen to them. I agreed in writing to take full responsibility for the two children if it were ever necessary.

I had four extended visits with the family in Denmark. The last time I saw them as a family of four was 17 years ago. The daughter came to visit me in the USA the year after that. And J came to my home for a brief visit 8 years ago.

In 9 hours J is arriving here for a second visit. My husband, J and I are going on a 4-day motorcycle ride. J will be here for 6 days.

What does all this have to do with my recovery? Well there's the obvious... Have guest = eat more, richer foods. Travel = eat more, get hungrier. Stress = eat more. That's the surface challenge about the week ahead. I know how to deal with that type of challenge... I have my plan and my talisman!

However, under the obvious there's a more significant challenge. When I met J and got to know him over periodic visits to the family in Europe, I greatly admired his strength of character, daring and determination. I began to really love this amazing person. Actually, that was part of it. The other part was that I developed a ginornous crush on him.

My addictions (in addition to the mother addiction of overeating and certain foods) include tobacco (3 packs Pall Mall every day, quit in 1968), alcohol (sober since 1985) and love. Love addiction is the strangest thing... For me it was not sex addiction, even though sex is often desirable as proof of love. It wasn't sex I wanted at all; it was to be loved.

My love addiction manifested itself as crushes, mostly on unavailable or uninterested men. I would constantly obsess about a man on whom I had a crush. Sometimes I would almost stalk the person, hound them with notes/letters.

Poor J. He was very fond of me. But he was also married and totally in love with his wife. For me, it was very confusing. I loved and admired the whole family, including his wife, in a healthy and reasonable way. But at the same time, he was the object of my passionate obsession for a long time, maybe 10 years.

Because of my lust for J, I broke up with my steady boyfriend/partner of 13 years. I only wanted J.

Then some things changed. I began writing poetry with a group of recovering alcoholics, drug addicts and one sex addict. For the first time, I began to see my crushes for what they really were... an addiction to love... obsessive and compulsive attachments that were not reality-based. I awakened to the fact that I could love J as a friend and let go of the notion that he could (0r ever would) be a romantic partner.

After that, I met my husband (1997) and consider myself happily married. No more crushes. J was the last. Not even a hint of it in the 13 years I've been with my husband. Even when J called to tell me his wife had suddenly died of a brain tumor, I did not give more than idle thought to the fact that he was now available.

J and I are close friends. I've stood next to him through many important life changes. We have a strong bond, an emotional and intellectual connection similar to my relationship with two of my brothers and my husband.

So now J is coming here. His visit brings up the past for me... reminds me of my addiction to love. I've been having memory flash-backs about those days when I adored him in such an unhealthy, odd way. We did not have an affair, although at one point I would have if the circumstances had been different. I am ashamed about that. I wonder if I want to talk with him about it? I wonder if there is some way I can make amends. Most of all I want the impossible... to apologize to his wife for the lust I carried for J. But to him as well. It could not have been easy to be my friend.

So the challenge ahead is to feel my feelings, accept my memories of who I was back then, forgive myself for my mistakes and my addictions, and pray for guidance in matters of making amends with J. That's it. That's the challenge I face right now.

Dance ~ Part 3 (the end, for now)

Yes, my childhood/youth dance card was tarnished and bleak. But later, in my 40s and 50s, the dancer in me left hibernation and found a pathway through folk dance and later recreational ballroom dancing.

It wasn't always easy... I recall taking workshops where the teachers rotated the dancers. It seemed that each time I rotated to a new partner, I saw on his face a look that said, "Oh no, here we go... She's a big one... She won't be a good partner... She must weigh twice as much as me... Maybe I should take a break right now..." Some did take a break. Some discovered that I can dance. Some even sought me out later as a partner. I learned to take the bad with the good, stick with it, keep smiling and above all, enjoy the dance.

For several years, I performed with a Hungarian folk dance group, eventually becoming one of the group's primary choreographers. Performing was tough. The first time on stage, my knees were shaking so much that my dear partner literally had to hold me up. Eventually, I came to enjoy performing very much.

During those two decades, I formed romantic attachments to two different men who were dancers, one which lasted 13 years. He was a big guy, overweight like me. He was/is a great dancer and always in demand as a partner. Guys can be overweight, sweaty, choreography-impaired, humorless, you name it... If they're willing to try, they will always have a dance partner. For us gals, it's a bit more difficult. When I started ballroom dancing, I got used to asking men to dance with me, which was a bit tough on the ego, but which got me on the dance floor.

I look back on those 20 years of dance as a primary focus in my life and am thankful for the courage and serendipitous circumstances that helped me to take baby steps out of hibernation. That phase of my life ended when I met my husband (who will not/does not dance) and moved to an island where there really isn't any venue for dancing. It's OK. I'm willing to trade dance for my marriage... and I still dance by myself sometimes, especially in my studio.

Going back to the start of Part 1, I wrote: "I guess if I'm ever going to recover (as they put it in OA), I have to face the D word... Dance." I've told the stories. Now what is it I need to face?

I think it's my bitterness and anger about what happened and about being overweight and large. Perhaps a 10-things list is in order. OK... Ten Things I'm Willing to Forgive and Leave Behind:

1. I forgive you, Mr. Andahazi, Mr. Russian ballet master. You taught me body carriage and how to move in time to music. I'm sure you did not intend to harm me when you told my parents I was not suited to ballet. You were right... I am not.
2. I forgive you, Mom and Dad. You did not understand how important it was to me that you see our modern dance performance. You tried to make it up to me later by traveling all the way across the country to see me perform folk dance on several occasions. You were kind and attentive to my needs in countless ways.
3. I forgive you, stage helpers, for the mix-up about our costumes.
4. I forgive you, Mrs. Kane, for pushing me back on stage. Although I was humiliated at the time, it was the right thing to do. Maybe it's partly the reason why I was able to perform later in life. So thank you!
5. I forgive myself for holding this anger and shame inside for all these years.
6. I forgive myself for all the years I overate and binged, especially for how doing so continually hampered me from blossoming as a dancer.
7. I forgive myself for any erroneous assumptions I may have made regarding male dance teachers, choreographers and partners. I assumed the worst, that they all dreaded working with me. I admit it's possible that some of them didn't have any negative feelings at all.
8. I forgive those men who have a preference for dancing with small, attractive women even if they aren't really very good dancers.
9. I forgive myself for hibernating, shyness and holding back.
10. I forgive myself for limiting my own potential in dance by holding onto shame, fear and resentments from the past.

Ooooh, that felt good!!!! Now I can let the subject of dance rest for a while. The only other thing to do is to put my word-arms around Little Peacefulbird, hug her tightly, rock her gently and tell her I understand how wounded she was and how proud I am of her for allowing dance to emerge again and even flourish after many years of hiding.