Whatever it takes

Moving on

The wake/memorial thing was okay. I saw a couple friends I hadn't seen in years and that was nice, but I didn't know anyone else. I did talk to Jamie's mom and brought her over to where we were sitting. She seemed touched that we came. I ate before I went and then went straight to a meeting. I don't know if I would have stuck to my food plan for dinner. I became a non-issue when my sponsor asked me to have dinner with her.

It was really nice. I need to make an effort to see her outside of meetings more often.

We scheduled time on September 2 to go over my eighth step. She said I need to move forward. We'll talk about the people I've finished writing about. Only the really hard ones are left: mom, dad, myself. I am to write on these 10 minutes at a time. I'm supposed to set a timer and stop at 10 minutes. Then next time, read what I wrote the time before and the set the timer for 10 minutes and write again. Apparently this is a way to write about ugly, painful things without killing yourself. I worried that I wouldn't really accomplish anything from one writing to another, but she said when I reread what I wrote before I'll come right back to where I left off. So this is what I will do.

I should have been ready to make amends yesterday when I saw a friend I hadn't seen in 15 years. I made sure I got her contact information though and she is living in state again, so at least I don't have to track her down before I make my amends to her.

Feeling my feelings is hard

Jamie killed himself on Saturday. I haven't seen Jamie since college, except for reruns of Check Please (a local PBS restaurant review show). It was a few years ago, but he looked good and was bar tending at The Double Door in Chicago. According to his obituary he was engaged. I'm sad that he was that miserable. I'm mad that he was that selfish.

I found out late last night. It took until my drive to work to start feeling it. I'm pissed at the people I've talked to that knew him. They have said that he alway was odd, that he was agnst-y even in high school, that he was a selfish stupid man to kill himself. None of the people I've talked with have ever considered suicide. They have zero tolerance or compassion about it. Sure I called him a dumb bastard when I heard, but I also understand suicide feeling like the best option.

I was angst-y in high school and college too. Maybe that's why Jamie and I got along so well. I don't remember him as angst-ridden though. I remember him as fun, hillarious and interesting. He used to sit on my lap and we would talk for hours until I couldn't feel my legs. He dated one of my other best friends and the three of us would hang out. The three of us would sleep in Nikki's full size water bed. The old-style ones with no supports, just a big bag of water. It was cozy and lovely and we laughed a lot. They came down to visit me in college. Then I lost touch.

This morning I am sad and angry and really busy at work. I should be working away but I'm distracted. When I focus on work I'm getting frustrated over little things. I've been on the verge of tantrums all morning. I know it's because I'm upset. Nothing is that crazy at work. if this was happening yesterday I would probably find it exhilarating. I'm not tempted to eat over this, not yet anyway, but I'm raw and vulnerable and I do not feel comfortable in my skin. My ears hurt and so do my hips.  I haven't cried yet.

Update: I removed Jamie's last name when I saw how many hits I was getting from searches for him. This post isn't what anyone is looking for, because it's all about me. I picked out a bunch of photos of him. I plan to scan them and post to flickr. I'll put his last name with those I guess. All the pictures are of happy times.

Clay feet baby

Suddenly I really want to skip my meeting tonight. I really don't want to go. I want to test drive cars instead. The sun is shining for the first time in about a week.

I know that when I don't want to go is when I need to go most. I rarely ever skip meetings. People would notice and question me. I don't think I'm hiding or anything. Of course I never seem to realize stuff like that until later. Sigh. I should call someone. They'll just tell me to go. Usually the only time I miss is when I'm sick. I'm not sick. I want to play hooky.

Update: I went to the meeting. I didn't call anyone until I'd already decided to go. I couldn't think of anyone with strong recovery who would tell me to skip. I've very glad I did. There were two newcomers and we were locked out of our regular room. Our literature was locked in too, so we ended using the bag from another meeting I had in my trunk.

Their exuberance, their raw power - and their punctuality

Someone just told me I’m an OA rock star; that I’ve got this program thing figured out. After a brief moment of pleasure, I thanked them and said they were wrong. I’m doing well and I am working my program, but maybe I’m sharing too much hope and strength at meetings? I do share struggles, but lately what comes out is that life is pretty good and I’m happy. I pray to be useful before I share, so I don’t want to start second guessing myself.

I think this is why my sponsor told be to make sure I reach out to non-sponsees the more sponsees I get. She said it’s easy to become an OA queen. I didn’t think I was doing that, in fact I was a bit defensive about it. This tells me I need to listen and take her suggestions. I’m glad I give people hope, but I’m no better or worse than anyone else in the rooms.

I worked a sixth and seventh step on Sunday afternoon. It was cool. I’m not sure how helpful it was to her, but I got a lot out of it. Ideas are become more solid in my head and heart. My character defects separate me from my HP and make it difficult to take loving actions in all areas of my life. The absence of these shortcomings allows my live with grace. Pretty much the opposite of each of my defects is grace. I was positively sappy yesterday. My heart was full.

And yet, I’m still having a bread problem and I’ve been on step eight for almost a year. I’m following my food plan, but my thinking is not sane when a sandwich is an option. If I was entirely ready to do whatever it takes I’d be talking this over with my sponsor. I have not done so; even though I saw her last night at a meeting. I am not a rock star. I am one bite away from losing the serenity I’ve worked so hard to find.

Me Jane

I weighed myself last week. I've lost another pound. I've now lost 89 pounds since becoming abstinent. I was expecting a bigger loss. I felt like I'd lost more than 16 ounces. Maybe that was the four pounds from last month catching up. I'm twenty-one days from turning 38. This spring I was doing DietMath to figure out how much I would have to lose to hit 100 pounds lost by my birthday. I won't be weighing myself again before September 3rd, so I know my number. It's 89 and I'm satisfied with that. What does my birthday have to do with my weight anyway?

Last week at a meeting someone shared a metaphor that I've been thinking about a lot. Program is like swinging on a vine Tarzan-style. When you hit the highest point on your swing you better grab on to the next vine or you'll be going backward. I've got to keep moving on my steps or my program will fall back. I know this. I've experienced it, yet I keep doing just enough work on my eighth step to keep from falling back, yet I'm not ready to finish it and grab the next step. Oh crap, now I've got that yodeling Tarzan-boy song in my head. (Oh-oh-oh---oh-oh---oh-oh--oh-oh-oh---oh-oh--oh...)

I think I'm a new grand sponsor. That's so cool! It makes me feel really connected to the program. Someone I've shared my experience, strength and hope with is now passing her ESH to someone new. I still feel like very much a newcomer, there is so much I don't know. But this makes me think of all the people in program, past, present and future. I'm a part of it. I love OA.

Fat Death March

Last night I watched the last 20 minutes of Fat March. This is the latest reality show obsessed with weight. It broke my heart. A group of obese (most are morbidly obese) people are walking from Boston to D.C. to lose weight. The first stage was sixty-some miles.

I tried to walk 60 miles twice. I participated in the Avon Breast Cancer 3-Day walks twice. The training was brutal and the event was killer. I couldn't finish either attempt. I signed up for the walks to force myself to get in shape. It didn't work either time. I was heavier the second year and my feet were injured.

One of the guys on the show was 500 pounds. He was unable to walk the last 13 mile stage. Not only were his feet painfully blistered, the doctors thought there were stress fractures in his feet. He didn't want to quit, he felt this was his only chance to lose weight. He didn't want to quit even though he could barely stand. His teammates voted him off. I'm glad they did.

I hate this show. I have no idea what they are feeding these people or what kind of mental help if any they are getting, but having a 500 pound man walk 60 miles in 8 days is dumb. This seems even more irresponsible than The Biggest Loser to me. That show pisses me off when they teach the contestants that they can eat 10 sugar-free jello cups instead of one bowl of ice cream.

These people need more help than two trainers dragging them cross-country. I couldn't turn it off, but I hated it. Next season we'll see Xtreme Dieting where contestants pit their crazy diets against each other. Cabbage soup diet versus liquid fasting versus some crazy magazine versus Atkins. I think the thing I hate most about it is that a still-crazy part of me wants to get on the next season and kick lose some serious poundage.

I can weigh myself tomorrow or Thursday. I feel like I've barely recovered from last month's weigh in.