Charlie Takes a Trip

My name is Charlie, and I’m a compulsive overeater.

::Hi, Charlie!::

I’m in a small Midwestern airport typing on my laptop while the rest of the world (or so it seems) is watching the Super Bowl. And you know what? I’m cool with it. I’ve never been much of a sports guy anyway.  I actually had to ask my sister who was playing.

The Super Bowl for me has always been about three things: commercials, friends and food. Not necessarily in that order. So I’m incredibly gift of OA-HOW and the willingness to stay abstinent today. In fact, this whole last week has been a gift. I have a lot to write about, and I have a lot of time to write it. I’ll have a lot more time if they cancel my flight, which was supposed to have taken off one minute ago but which has not even arrived yet. God, grant me the serenity…

So, as my faithful readers will recall, I have been at a conference in Chicago all week. It was actually my eleventh time at this particular conference, and I have many good friends and memories of this one particular hotel/conference center where we all stayed together. It’s a good thing we like each other, because we were literally snowbound. I arrived Monday afternoon, and Tuesday evening ushered in the third largest blizzard in Chicago history. Flights were canceled, planned outings into the city never materialized, workshops and seminars were canceled because their leaders couldn’t get there.

As I was flying out of Tulsa, an epic snowstorm (for Oklahoma) was rolling in. I just made it out in time. Mrs. Charlie and the kids were housebound until Saturday. No school, no work. To be honest, I was a little jealous. It sounded so good be all together with nowhere to go. Although I would have been stir-crazy after a day or two, I’m sure.

Monday was an odd day. I got into my room, got all set up with my refrigerator and delivered groceries (Thank you, Peapod.com!), and then wandered to the lobby. I had forgotten that lonely feeling. Who will I see first? Who will I hang out with? Are others as excited to see me as I am to see them? All my insecurities came out to play, and I hoped and prayed that someone would call or text ME… “Hey, you here yet? Let’s hang…” Eventually I ran into an old friend and we sat in a bar for a couple hours. It was good. That first awkward afternoon was over, and I could get on with what I came to do.

I have to admit that I loved all the attention I got over my weight loss. I have lost at least 55 pounds since most of these people had seen me. It was nice to wear my skinny shirts and look good in them! No more straining buttons, no more saggy pants. I know it’s not about the weight. I really do. And man, do I love being at a normal weight.

I led a workshop on Wednesday. I was given a very large budget from our denomination for this workshop, and there were a lot of expectations. I had to deliver. We had about 40 participants, and I had to keep them engaged for 3-1/2 hours. So, being the people-pleaser that I am, I was already worried about making everyone happy. I couldn’t imagine having enough material to fill the time. And then there was the weather. Five of the eight people who were scheduled to help me present the material ended up unable to be with us due to the weather. One guy had flown in from Denver and was in Chicago but couldn’t make it up to our hotel because it was so bad! I stayed up so late the night before. Only got about 3-1/2 hours of sleep. But I prayed about it, talked to my sponsor in the morning, talked to G. Rabanon and a few other program friends… and then turned it over to God and trusted that it would all work out exactly the way it was supposed to work out.

It did! It did! The workshop far exceeded my wildest dreams. Rather than having too little material, I had too much! People were totally engaged and responding enthusiastically. I was able to find suitable fill-ins for the people who couldn’t be there, and, who knows? They may have even been better than the people I had planned to have there. The reviews were uniformly positive. And I was able to see more clearly than I ever have before that I really am gifted in moderating and facilitating discussion. Thank God for a wonderful day.

And then I could just rest and enjoy the rest of conference! I talked for hours and hours with good friends, I prayed and sang, I watched a movie, I slept a lot. It was good.

And I worked the program. Every day. I made my three hookup calls. I talked to my sponsor. I planned and committed my food every morning. I did my stepwork. And I ate my abstinent meals. Thanks be to God.

A touchdown just occurred on the TV in the bar behind me. I don’t know which team, but good for them.

Friday I took a bus from Chicago to the small town in northern Indiana where my parents live. I relaxed and read the whole way. Have you read Middlesex by Jeffrey Eugenides? I love this novel. Anyway, I arrived at my parents’ house, and my brother and sister and their families came over, and we all had dinner together. I made my own. I spend yesterday and today with my family, and then dad brought me over to the airport a little bit ago. And here I wait.

I can’t wait to see how this story ends tonight! Does Charlie make it to Chicago? Does Charlie make it to Tulsa or have to spend the night in the airport or get re-routed to Denver? What does Charlie do for food? (Charlie stupidly packed his scale and measuring cups/spoons in his checked luggage.) Will Charlie get in his last hook-up call as he calls people during the Superbowl. Only God knows as this continuing saga unfolds.

(Later)

But wait! There’s more! So I was sitting in Indiana, writing that post, when G. called. We were chatting happily when I realized there was an eerie silence all around me. My plan was boarding! And I was all spread out all over… computer open, food out… I had to run for it. They were literally yelling at me that they were shutting the door in 40 seconds. OMG.

And now I’m sitting on the ground near a power outlet in Chicago’s O’Hare Airport. It’s looking good. The flight to Tulsa is delayed, but I’m gonna get home tonight. Thank you, God.

Maybe tomorrow I’ll write about body image. I’ve been threatening to for some time now. It all culminated last night when my dad told me I look like a cancer patient. Nice.

Back to Life, Back to Reality

My name is Charlie, and I'm a compulsive overeater.

::Hi, Charlie!::

It's 7:35 on Monday morning. I woke up at 5:30; made a pot of coffee; did my daily reading/writing assignment; talked to my sponsor at 6 to commit my food for the day and read my writing to her; made and ate a delicious, abstinent breakfast (4 oz. cottage cheese, 1 tbsp. almonds, 1 banana, 1 egg, 2 oz. sausage, 1 piece toast); worked on my to do list; read a little bit on my new Kindle (The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, if you must know); put on one of my favorite albums from 2010 (Janelle Monae's The ArchAndroid); caught up on some blogs; and now I'm trying to muster up the energy to leave the table, take a shower and get dressed.

I have the kids at home for one more day before school starts, so I want to take them to a movie or something. Anyone seen Secretariat? That's probably what we'll see, cuz it's at the cheap theater. It's either that or the creepy looking CGI movie about owls... My oldest needs to take the test for his driver's permit. Ugh. And yay! Can't wait till he can take over some of the driving for the family.

Christmas was wonderful and stressful all at the same time, and I'm sad and happy it's over. My phone calls with my sponsor have been kind of free-floating over the past two weeks, but this morning we got back to our normal 6am time, and that feels good. As an addict in recovery, I function best with lots of structure in my life. It started with a structured program of recovery, but I'm finding that this structure finds its way into other parts of my life as well. I thrive when I'm living on-plan. My life has a framework. I get things done. I can rest in the reality that I've done what I can do every day.

So tomorrow it's back to work, full-time. I've been kind of free with work the past week as well. They were cool about it since I basically lived at the church over Christmas. Let's see, what's coming up in this semester?

I'm taking another seminary class online... Interpreting the Old Testament. (Although in honor of my friend G. Rabanon, maybe I should should re-name it, "Christians Trying to Interpret Hebrew Scripture.")

I'm considering incorporating some regular exercise into my life. (Oh dear, this is starting to sound like those dreaded "New Year's Resolution" thingies.) Honestly, though, I'm not sure I can find one more free hour in my week. God will lead me. Give me ears to hear and a willing heart, Lord...

Having worked with my first sponsee and dropped said sponsee (another post for another time), I am now ready to work with another. Let me know if you or someone you know needs a sponsor. I am happy to work with you/him/her if there is willingness to follow the HOW guidelines. One thing I'm very clear about is that I can only sponsor as I have been sponsored. I pass the program on as it's been passed down to me. Here are the guidelines I follow, in a nutshell, and I would be even more clear and specific if we talk about possibly working together. You can email me at charlie (dot) edinburgh (at) gmail (dot) com or call using the Google Voice number in the sidebar.

I'll be heading to Chicago for a conference in February. It's one of my favorite things to do every year. I see lots of great friends, experience wonderful rest and refreshment, hear great speakers and music and so on. And this year I'll be presenting a workshop one of the days. I'm nervous and excited all at the same time. And I'm wondering what abstinence will look like for me that week. I'm planning to be abstinent, but I don't quite know how. I am not interested in future-tripping at this point, but I do need to start planning. I'll talk more about this as it gets closer.

Believe it or not, I need to start Easter planning. Easter is the high point of the year in terms of Christian worship. My choir is on hiatus until February 9, but when we come back together, I need to be ready for them and have all the music planned.

These are the things I often wait to do until the last minute... and although I always get through them, they are not as good as they could be if I had planned. I have hope that this year will be better - as I continue to work my program of recovery and live within this day-to-day structure.

And what would a new year be without the chaos of kids? In 2010, my kids will be involved in drum lessons, gymnastics, church youth activities, math tutoring, soccer, track, guitar lessons, piano lessons. Oh, and school. Oh, and Mrs. Charlie and I will be driving them to all these places.

OK, I think I have found the willingness to get off my ass. Sorry this post was so random... But look, I have posted three times in three days! Woo-hoo!

Miracles: A Guest Post from G. Rabanon

My name is Charlie, and I'm a compulsive overeater.

::Hi, Charlie!::

Today I have the great privilege of presenting a guest post by my friend G. Rabanon. You've heard me mention her name before. She was one of the people God used in a powerful way to bring me back into recovery and to begin this period of abstinence and growth in my life for which I am so, so grateful. Enjoy her writing, and please check out her blog and follow her on Twitter!

Hi, my name is G. and I am a recovering bulimic.

*pause*

*crickets*

Hm. I guess that only works for Charlie.

::Hi Charlie!::

*blink*

Um… okay.

Anyway, today, it turns out, I am 300 days abstinent from disordered eating. Charlie asked me a while ago if I'd like to write a guest post. And I was just thinking about him tonight and I figured, eh, no time like 11:22 at night. Sorry, 11:23.

Tonight I want to talk about miracles.

Bulimia is not the beginning of my story, as it is not the beginning of anyone's story. In fact, I came to bulimic behaviors relatively late in life, at least in comparison with a lot of the stories I've heard… though I know comparisons are irrelevant, and I know that in most respects 18 is really quite young… hell, almost 11 years younger than I am now…

I've been bulimic for almost 11 years. Huh.

Well, the other big elements of my story are depression and child abuse. Both go back as far as I can remember. I don't want to make it sound like there were never times when I experienced joy, because that would be a lie… but I have never in my life been happy. Never. Not until now. Not until the age of 28 did I learn what it could mean to be happy. And I could be extremely bitter about that.

Which brings me to the first miracle: I am not bitter.

I was. Oh, believe me, I was plenty plenty bitter for a long long time. I realized when I was 14 that the reason I always felt like there was something wrong with the way Dad hit us was because he wasn't supposed to be hitting us. I realized that probably a big part of why I was always so sad was because of the things that were said and done to me and my mother and my brother and sister in my home. When I left, when I got out and went to college, got a job, went abroad, went to graduate school, the pain followed. The pain never let go. And I was bitter. And I was angry. And I thought that it would never leave me and that I would never be able to have a life that was not torturous. Less than 6 months ago, I had given up. I didn't want to kill myself necessarily, but I said to myself, to my friends, to my teachers, to my therapist, to people in OA meetings, to God, ESPECIALLY to God, that if this was life, then I really really did not want to play anymore. I didn't want to die, to be dead, I just wanted it to stop hurting.

Miracle number two: I am alive.

Here's how it happened… God sent me an angel. I don't mean the cliche winged angel that you see in movies or illustrated Bibles and stained glass windows. I mean angel in the literal, original sense of the word. The word angel, and the Hebrew word מלאך mean "messenger." And that is what God sent me.

He was a teacher of mine. An alcoholic recovering in AA who will, God willing, have 18 years of sobriety this Christmas Eve. I had failed his Talmud class, largely because I had a great deal of difficulty getting out of bed in the morning to get to his class, let alone doing assignments. I spent a great deal of my time sitting or lying in my room with tears streaming down my face for no immediate reason other than the fact that I was in agonizing pain on the inside of my head and heart and nothing seemed to give any relief. I'd already started in OA by then, was abstinent almost 5 months, and so was no longer dulling the pain with food. I'd not intentionally injured myself in about a year and 6 months, had not purged in about 2 years and 2 months, had begun to cut down on my drinking (which had been getting heavier and heavier) and was left with very little in the way of coping mechanisms. I was therefore not coping. This was to be the point of reckoning. This was it. Either I would figure out how to live without hurting myself to get by, or I was going to die. Maybe now, maybe later, but it was going to happen. And I was not optimistic.

I came to speak to my teacher. He had an inkling of what was going on. So he proceeded to tell me a story. There was a time when he was suicidal, he told me. He'd been hospitalized for his alcoholism and suicidal depression. He wanted to speak to a chaplain, but didn't want a rabbi, fearing for his anonymity. All rabbis know each other, you see, one way or another. So he was seen by a priest. The priest listened to him, and then told him "You know, this is all going to make you a better rabbi."

This was the bell that began to wake me. You see, I've heard that line countless times in my life. And I hated… no, really… HATED hearing it. Hated it so so much. Maybe I don't WANT to be a better rabbi! Maybe I would rather be a mediocre rabbi, or even a TERRIBLE rabbi if it meant I could be happy and sane and not want to die!

But suddenly, the words were true. I knew they were. Because the better rabbi was sitting in front of me, looking into my eyes and telling me his story. Because of what he'd been through, he was a better rabbi… indeed, the ONLY rabbi for me in that moment. Because there he was, having been where I'd been, worse places even, and he was sitting exactly where I wanted to end up sitting. Doing just what I wanted to be doing. He'd come through the hell I was in and had not only survived, but had gone on to be what I want to be. He had what I wanted. He'd been able to get there.

Miracle: I was given hope.

No one had ever EVER been able to give me that before. People had always said encouraging things to me, hoping to snap me out of the pit of despair in which I was so accustomed to wallowing. People had said all sorts of things to me, but none had been able to speak to me from a place of understanding, of experience and recovery, who had gotten to where I wanted to be.

A month later, as I was pulling myself together, I had a realization one night. I was sitting alone at home. It was late, just about bedtime. I was online, trying desperately to soothe the gnawing ache of loneliness I was feeling. Nobody loves you, I kept hearing in my head. Nobody wants to hang out with you, no one wants to talk to you, you're alone and nobody loves you. Suddenly, God spoke to me/my rational brain kicked in. However you want to call it. "Ok G," it said. "What is this? Seriously? It's 11:30 at night. There's nowhere you want to go, no one you really want to talk to, and you know for a FACT that there are scores if not hundreds of people who like you, lots of whom really really like you, and a bunch of whom even adore you! So where is this coming from?"

I answered myself.

I hate myself. I'm sitting here and I feel lonely because I am sitting with someone who hates me. If you sit 24 hours every day 7 days every week with someone who hates you, of course you are going to feel lonely, of course you are going to feel like nobody loves you!

It occurred to me that night, for the first time, out of nowhere, that there was this person named G, this person who was well liked and well respected by many, who was someone of whom people said to each other "this is someone you really want to get to know," and here I was closer to her than anybody, and I had no idea who she was. I had the opportunity to be her friend, just like all the cool people, and I'd decided that I didn't like her without even getting to know her.

That was ridiculous.

Miracle: I decided to be friends with me.

I would never willfully treat another person the way I treated myself. And realizing suddenly that I was the only person who was ever going to have to be with me every moment of every day of my life, I HAD to be my own best friend… not because nobody else would, but because I was always going to be there if no one else was at the moment. It just suddenly made sense.

Life has been amazing ever since.

And those are the big miracles of the last six months of my life. I didn't talk very much about the food, but let's face it… it's never really about the food. The food is the door to everything else. The food is, in many ways, the simplest part of this.

I thank God for every moment of every day. The world is full of miracles and beauty. Pain is inevitable, but suffering is optional. When you do the work, miracles, REAL miracles, do actually happen.

Don't give up five minutes before the miracle happens. You miss out on the good stuff that way.

With Gratitude

Hi. My name is Charlie, and I'm a compulsive overeater.

::Hi, Charlie!::

I have been reflecting on my two months of abstinence in the Overeaters Anonymous H.O.W. program. I have so much gratitude for where I am today. 

On August 2, I wrote this post. It was basically moaning and whining and complaining. I was so angry, so resentful. I was a victim. I was hopeless and helpless.

A couple of days later, my blogger friend G. Rabanon (@RecoveringinOA on Twitter) reached out to me via email. I've asked her if I can share her email, because it was a life-changer for me. God used it, along with a phone call from the woman who is now my sponsor, to get me back to an O.A. meeting where I found a sponsor - that very day - and surrendered to this structured plan of recovery.

Here's G.'s [slightly abridged] email:

"Hi!

Looks like you've got a serious case of the "fuck it"s. It's ok, it happens to all of us. I understand losing your willingness. It's a horrible feeling...

You made the distinction, Charlie, between a slip and a relapse. Well, let me tell you, there is no difference. Know why? Because all any of us has is Today, This Moment, Right Now. There's no such thing as relapse, there is just "Are you slipping now? How about now? What about now? Did you slip now? You gonna slip now?" Every moment that you don't slip, you are abstinent. When you slip, you lose that abstinence. You need to make a decision, Charlie. From this moment (if you are eating something not abstinent right now, stop. Just stop. Now. Just for this moment STOP!) you are abstinent. You are abstinent RIGHT NOW as you are reading this. The decision you have to make RIGHT NOW Charlie, is to NOT LOSE YOUR ABSTINENCE RIGHT NOW. Just for this moment. And now the moment has passed. And now in this moment, DO NOT LOSE YOUR ABSTINENCE! Just for this moment... and now the moment has passed. That is all you have to do Charlie. And it is so hard not to string the time together and lose track and lose sight of each individual minute, but that is what we have to do. We who suffer from the disease of addiction have to remember moments like other "normal" people can get away with ignoring. Sometimes it really really sucks. But you know... I think overall it's a blessing. How many Normals routinely make the effort to experience every minute of their lives and to be grateful for it? Our lives depend on it. In that sense, we are the lucky ones.

I'm with you Charlie, and so is God. God loves you even when you forget to take His hand. He's still reaching out to you. And when you have one hand in mine and one hand in God's, you have no free hands to pick up.

I wish you an abstinent weekend and look forward to hearing from you. :)

-g" 

Today I celebrate the 12th Step - "Having had a spiritual awakening as the result of these steps, we tried to carry this message to other compulsive overeaters, and to practice these principles in all our affairs" - with great gratitude to G. and to my sponsor. And to anyone else who carries the message by reading or commenting here on my blog, calling or emailing me, or sharing in O.A. meetings. You all are awesome, and I am so grateful for you.