Posted by: innerpilgrimage | May 29, 2010

Fear

      Fear is a vicious enemy.

      Fear incites my desire to binge; it takes my hand and draws me into my own character defect compulsions; it makes me long nostalgically for times which never happened.
      My ears and eyes are closed to my Higher Power when I binge on fear. My life extends into a hopeless and dark future outside of today and projects it onto my present life. Fear tells me I am trapped tomorrow, and I become caged by it today.
      I’m one of those people who talks to myself. Sometimes hearing a voice tell me what I know (Progress, not perfection; Just for Today; Nothing tastes as good as abstinence feels; My HP’s will, not mine) eases my mind. It reminds me that I am neither a product of my addiction nor am I ever going to be “normal”. I will forever be a food addict; I cannot run from this reality. I can only endeavor to walk a path which I have been told can and will bring me a peace from obsession about food.
      It’s interesting that I rarely chase food any more, which I appreciate as a symptom of using the 12 Steps. However, I am now fighting a spiritual fight–the addiction to my defects has left me naked and exposed at times. I hold on to them like I once held the food. I sneak-defect. I binge on my worries, anxieties, and fear more often than I would like to admit. I take defects that have fallen on the floor or which have been thrown into the trash and remove them to consume them.
      My defects are what I know as who I am. If I release them, I reason, there won’t be a human being left. I will be a shell of a physical recovery I am far from satisfied with.

      My anxiety stems from a worry that I will not be enough when exposed to my parents next month. I want to be able to argue that I am a healthy BMI. I won’t be able to. My current weight loss follows 5 lbs per month, and I will be 10 lbs. from that BMI weight when I walk into their home at the end of June. BUT WOULD IT MATTER IF I WAS?!
      Dr Seuss once wrote:

“Be Who You Are and Say What You Feel Because Those Who Mind Don’t Matter and Those Who Matter Don’t Mind.”

      I have been struggling with who I am and saying what I feel because I have been compulsive and “imperfect” and my words reflect it. Yet . . . inside me IS that person who I knew was there. Inside me is the little girl who trusts in a Power Greater Than Myself which can bring me to a greatness I never understood. It may not be wealth or prestige. It honestly probably isn’t, because I find that those things feed my defects. Yet . . . when I was a child, I didn’t want things and recognition. I wanted others to be happy. I trusted that my Higher Power (back then, the trinity of God, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit) would make things right. But it didn’t. Things weren’t right. Things weren’t beautiful, and people suffered the world around.
      And that is, was, and ever will be out of my control. Trying to control it and failing (seeing as I’m not only not a superhero, I am one small person in a very big Universe) left me bereft of a sense of ability to affect my world. I took my ego-centered sense of where the Solar System existed in relation to me (despite Copernicus’s affirmation that, yes, the sun is the center–not the earth or me), and I took responsibility for things out of my control. The billions of people who do not know I even exist were my personal responsibility because I decided I had to make them all happy. Of course, since they didn’t know I exist, there was a disconnect.
      An addiction to external validation. I think that’s my biggest current character defect. I want people to find me wonderful, sexy, beautiful, charming . . . a Disney princess of gigantic proportions. The savior of the world, the person everybody loves. Manipulation of others by morphing myself into what they need while my self struggles against the straightjacket of an image of someone who doesn’t actually exist.
      What I am . . .
      I am not glib, nor do I speak easily. I enjoy writing because I can take back my words and edit my thoughts on the fly. Of course, imperfection abounds, but it’s better than opening my mouth sometimes.
      I am awkward. I run into doors and furniture even when I am trying to be careful, I struggle with the physical world as I try to find my place in it. Hell, I even can lose my balance while standing in one place.
      I am real, not airbrushed. I want to achieve a reality that is not available to me, and I cannot accept it is not available to any of us.
      I long to be loved and I am willing to sacrifice my own self to get there. I seek arbitrary acceptance from people who have major life problems. I try to fix them all.
      I have lived so long in my defects, that I don’t know how to leave them and strike out on a new path. To seek relief from them means I leave my unhappy shanty shack of a life toward the great unknown. The shanty shack, at least, was something I knew. It was tangible to me. At least, it felt tangible.
      If I don’t want the world to suffer, why do I demand the person I cannot get away from suffers? Aren’t I part of the world?
      My name is Jess and I am humbly grateful for the abstinence and recovery I have been offered. I live in Steps One and Two. I know I am powerless over my food obsession. I know something greater than me can restore me to sanity because I have actually had it and can bring it into my life . . . but only when I exhaust myself struggling and give it over to my Higher Power to help me stand and guide me to the life I am supposed to own.

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