Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes

      Despite appreciating the deep changes that the 12-Step program has created, I hate when things change externally. Perhaps it has to do with conflict aversion (to the point I am a socially avoidant personality), but when I am in a situation where I have expectations and perceive my time is being wasted? I get completely frazzled.

      In theory, this may have something to do with my Meyers-Briggs Type: INFJ. I’m not sure how that affects my choice to avoid people and pursue addictions to distract me or comfort me when I hit that sense of uneasiness hard. I am sure, however, that it explains a lot of why I can understand why a 12-Step program works yet not get into the actual work of finishing my Step Four Inventory. As a perfectionist, I place high demands on myself and on others. I seek depth of connection with people, and the day-to-day interactions seem insincere because they’re not based on the greater good. While this does stop me from being a shopaholic–my innate distrust of Chinese products leaves me to seek out the Made in China label on everything, then rejecting it because of the history of lead in children’s toys and the poisonous metal cadmium used in children’s jewelry (which I perceive as purposeful poisoning, since cadmium is not cheaper than many metals they can use), to the use of melamine in infant formula (proof again that “breast is best” when it comes to feeding infants). Add to it a general worldwide disdain for human life to make a profit, and I have an innate distrust of people, which grows when things like this come out.
      To me, choosing to put dangerous chemicals onto the market is attempted harm. In some cases, premeditated murder. But people want cheap. I am happy to pay more for a better product, but it seems these days that the only difference is the branding–not the product, itself. I even question whether or not some of the fruits and vegetables branded organic at the supermarket are. I’ve known people who are more worried about losing their jobs than keeping an ethical code that they choose to rationalize their behavior instead of maintain ethical conduct.
      But I have to trust that people out there do think, act, and believe as I do–or else I will never be able to function. The pillars of mindfulness ask me to trust . . . in a Higher Power, in people. I just doubt so much that I question it all, even as I want to believe. And I don’t trust myself, worst of all. I don’t trust that I can sense when things are ultimately wrong, putting my own existence at risk because I have little faith in my intuitive nature.
      I want to fix, repair, and make things comforting for people. I dream of non-conflict as an ideal. Everything I do has detractors, though I can rest in the humbling thought that all people face that all of the time.
      I wish sometimes I could live in ignorance, but I’ve found that ignorance and intellect both can result in unhappiness. I know why I’m unhappy, but to settle into the disciplined process to rediscover satiety again and again is a challenge that I often choose to fail at. It’s easier to choose a known success (even by choosing to succeed at failing completely by not trying whatsoever) than risk a potential success. And what if I did succeed? What demands would be put on me then? What unavoidable conflicts would I face then?
      There is a solution–going from big-picture thinking to detail-oriented thinking when the world is overwhelming. While I know I can organize details and focus on them, I tend to choose details which have little value. The easiest way not to affect profound change is to distract myself with finding meaning in valueless information. Of course, I create conflict within when I do that, but metaphorically banging my head against walls is a habit I’ve gotten used to.
      I know what will work–it resonates and makes sense. Embrace to let go (the essence of the Fourth Step). Be present when I deal with others so I can use my strengths to understand the context–the big picture–as they present the content–the details. People present their arguments with intense emotional meaning, and I can intuit that (as most of us can). I just don’t want to. Being aloof protects me from taking on someone else’s pain as my own, taking responsibility for something I have no part in whatsoever. And, when I consider I have no part in it? I wonder why I should even invest myself emotionally, because I end up investing too deeply . . . then I choose to invest nothing and find myself at least somewhat stable emotionally.
      Ugh, I don’t know. I know quite a lot about HOW to do certain things, HOW to reach satiety. I even know what it feels like, having tripped over it by accident when I surrendered to the moment out of exhaustion. I wear myself out trying to control the big picture, even as I ignore the ever-changing details in order not to deal with them. I know the How, the What, the Why of choosing mindfulness, of choosing a careful and responsible path of healing (which aligns with my sense of greater purpose).
      Footwork is my downfall and will save me from relapse. I am at the precipice and need to take that next step, be willing to have True Faith there is something to catch me so I can continue on my journey. But the fall looks so far, and I cannot see the net. I just know there is a rocky bottom somewhere below. Bringing myself to potentially take the ultimate risk (when I am deeply attached to the brain-body core requirements of surviving in the natural world) is very hard.
      As Neil Armstrong said, “That’s one small step for a man, one giant leap for mankind.” One small step on the journey of a thousand footfalls, to produce a faith-based leap toward the spiritual awakening of humankind–including myself. And no, I don’t consider myself a savior of humankind. But if I can take that leap of faith, the potential of one more person living with true compassion toward humankind is awakened. One less person who lives in fear, uncertainty, and doubt every day of her life.
      One butterfly flapping its wings today, to produce a shift in humanity long after this body and brain ceases to exist. And we all have that potential. All of us–if we are only brave enough to take that tiny step from the precipice of what we perceive we know into the abyss of the unknown, and by doing so? Turn that simple action into a leap of true faith.
     
      My name is Jess and I am an addict of food and approval. It’s easier to distract myself with the comfort of numbing myself with food or to distract myself by hoping some day I can quote Sally Field (accurately of course, seeing as I am a perfectionist, right?): “I can’t deny the fact that you like me, right now, you like me!” And going to the extreme opposite–punishing myself by calling certain foods “bad” and denying myself the pleasure or punishing myself by rejecting humankind outright–is just as bad. But I think having two addictions of extremes has been a gift. Without addictions based on extremes, I could never realize the path of true balance as my own.