Celebrating Recovery

God grant me the serenity 

to accept the things I cannot change; 

courage to change the things I can;

and wisdom to know the difference.

Living one day at a time; 

Enjoying one moment at a time; 

Accepting hardships as the pathway to peace; 

Taking, as He did, this sinful world

as it is, not as I would have it; 

Trusting that He will make all things right

if I surrender to His Will;

That I may be reasonably happy in this life 

and supremely happy with Him

Forever in the next.

Amen.

--Reinhold Niebuhr

While speaking with a friend recently, I opened up some old memory boxes and found some forgotten truths inside. She was telling me about some of her struggles with food and exercise, which led to her dealing with them in a drastic way, and I recalled my own vulnerability and insecurity when I first faced my issues head on. Honestly, I realized, for the first time in a long time, that I am still food addicted. I didn't "get over" it. It is still part of me, a part that I fight and deal with daily. 


Let's take it back before we move forward:


A few years ago, I went through a Christ-based 12 step program called Celebrate Recovery. The initial catalyst was my self-diagnosed food addiction. 


You've heard me (okay, read me?) mention food addiction several times. It isn't a clever turn of phrase or humorous exaggeration. It's the truth. Food is the medium I use to deal with my emotions; good and bad, big and small, each and every emotion. Unfortunately, I cannot abstain completely from my addiction. Food is unique in that way - we need it to survive. Let me say that again, I need it to survive. Using "I" statements, taking responsibility for my thoughts and actions, is something I learned at Celebrate Recovery. So easily we, I, use the society at large to share the burden of our, my, truths. "We" is so much easier than "I".


When I first started attending Celebrate Recovery (CR), I was skeptical. "Why am I here? My problem is not as bad as someone's addiction to porn or alcohol, and certainly not drugs. This is ridiculous. They need this. I don't need this. I don't belong with them."


But I stuck with it, just to give it a try. I was especially curious and intrigued because so many people I knew from church and the community were at these  meetings. Why? What were they struggling with? Why did they need recovery?


[Side note: Isn't it interesting how our society views recovery? I had fit right in with the crowd that looked at recovery and saw only stigma and stereotype. In my experience, everyone has some hurt, habit, or hang-up that causes pain and turmoil in their life. A recovery program may not be for everyone, but acknowledgement of the ways we deal with hurt and fear in this world of pain is crucial to battle our unhealthy coping mechanisms.]


Each week I would attend the large gathering, including a shared meal, worship session and speaker. When a new small group opened up for women with similar issues as mine, I went for it. Even though I felt small, scared, and often out of place, God showed me my need for this kind of support and growth as time went on. Even though I was the youngest person in attendance, that difference disappeared after a while. There, we were all sinners in need of Grace; all dealing with a hurt, habit, or hang-up that kept us from living fully into the blessings of this life. This is where I learned what the Church truly is, what it is meant to be.


As I learned the rules and ways of the program, anonymity and confidentiality, saving cross-talk for after the meetings, using "I" statements, committing the Serenity Prayer to memory, my focus changed. I was no longer worried about anyone else, what they thought or what they might need from me, I was free to sit with my issues without interruption. 


It became clear to me that my food addiction was a symptom of a deeper issue, though certainly a symptom that needed treatment. Food was where I turned when I was unable to control anything else around me. I could always count on food to be there for me, to momentarily make my pain go away. Sometimes it was there out of habit, to celebrate, or battle boredom, but it took much more than it gave.


Under my padding of pounds, the protective layers I had eaten onto my body, was what I now call codependency. My approval came from my loved ones, as did most of my hurts. I didn't know how to say "no", how to create boundaries that kept me healthy and sane. This often manifested as control, my efforts to determine everything that went on around me. As I said before, food was something I could control.


Helping people is not bad. Being organized and efficient is not bad. Food, for that matter, is not bad. But anything in excess to the point of self-destruction is bad. These behaviors had taken over my life and left me depressed, obese, and constantly looking for the next thing to "cure" me. (Another time we can talk about how I hoped for a romantic relationship to be that cure.)


Listening to women I respected and loved talk about their pain, their issues, their struggles to regain health and stability broke my heart in all the best ways. This "they" that I feared welcomed me, loved on me, and helped me begin the long road of recovery. Notice I don't say "to" recovery, because it is not a destination, a point on the timeline that is reached and passed. It is continual, ongoing. We are recovering from this world in some way.


I named my hurts. I named those who hurt me. I named the hurts I caused. I named those I hurt. I named my unhealthy behaviors. I did my best to name their causes. I analysed, dug through, evaluated, and categorized my past, my person. 


Gradually, so painfully slowly, I learned that this addiction, these behaviors, did not own or define me. They existed, they were part of me, but fear and avoidance of them only gave them more power over me. 


I began to change. My relationships. My habits. My mindset.


Three years later, I can say that these changes have lasted. I've learned to use other means and methods of keeping tabs on my issues, even though I do not attend attend meetings. But I can also say that I have given some power back to my addictions by not rejoicing each day that I go without giving into them. 


I get so down on myself when I eat something unhealthy or forgo exercise to sit on the couch. Even though I can say that I have kept to my goals of eating well and exercising regularly for over eleven weeks (much thanks to the structure of Weight Watchers and the support of my husband), the scale has not given me the results I want. I'm still hung up on those numbers. In fact, I can say that I have practiced (note: not perfected) eating well and exercising - and not using food as a way to numb the pain, not letting food be my primary line of defense against any and all emotions/situations for over two years.


The truth is, I feel great. I talk about my cravings instead of giving in to them. I talk through my plans to get through tempting situations instead of giving in to them. I take the time, effort, and energy needed to create an environment which helps me to succeed, to battle my addictions day in and day out.


The other truth is, I'm angry that my weight hasn't dropped any more than it has. I'm angry that my efforts seem to be for naught. I'm angry that I have to think about food and exercise all the time. I have to force healthy habits on myself. I'm angry that some people don't have to deal with this. I'm angry that I see a fat person in the mirror most mornings. I'm angry that God didn't make me differently; that He didn't give me surroundings and a body that promoted easily attainable health. I'm angry that He gave me an issue that I can't avoid, that I'm faced with every single day.


One more truth: God didn't do this to me. He may have let it happen, but I don't believe God is in the business of punishment or destruction. He did give me ways to deal with and battle my issues. And He can handle my anger. In fact, I think He rejoices in my anger when it fills me up fully and requires my attention, rather than my old ways of running from anger straight to the Dairy Queen drive thru. Feeling my emotions to the fullest, dealing with them, acknowledging them, and then letting go of them is cause for celebration!


So today I celebrate! 


For every Costco chocolate muffin I have passed over: I celebrate!


For every second I have devoted to exercise: I celebrate!


For every tear I have cried on my husband's shoulder: I celebrate!


For every ounce of vegetables I have eaten each night: I celebrate!


For every pound lost: I celebrate!


For every item of clothing that has loosened: I celebrate!


For every energy-filled day: I celebrate!


For every night of restful sleep: I celebrate!


For every calorie accounted for: I celebrate!


For every measuring cup or spoon used: I celebrate!


For every water bottle drained: I celebrate!


For every word spoken to prevent falling off the wagon: I celebrate!


For every day gone without bingeing (54): I freaking dance with joy!


And today I thank:


Thank you to all the people who have helped me find healthy ways of handling my hurts, habits, and hang-ups. 


Thank you for listening to me for hours on end. 


Thank you for asking me to bring a veggie tray to your party. 


Thank you for asking me what foods are good for me too. 


Thank you for sticking with me through change and hardship. 


Thank you for reminding me that my identity is in Christ, not an addiction. 


Thank you for pointing out my value and worth when I couldn't see it. 


Thank you for loving me. Fully, deeply loving me. 


Thank you for asking me questions, telling me your story, and celebrating each milestone and victory with me.




Let's celebrate! Let's rejoice in our triumphs each day! Never let the Evil in this world trivialize or demean the steps you take toward health and sanity! 


In complete and utter sincerity: Fight the Good fight!






So tell me: What Good fight are you fighting? How do you get the support you need? More importantly, how do you celebrate your triumphs?






To learn more about Celebrate Recovery, visit this site.