A Laugh A Minute

June 27th found me accepting a 4 month coin for sobriety. I’ve stayed off the juice but have been struggling to keep it all together in other areas. My nemesis, food, has exposed my powerlessness in taunting fashion. Since starting this journey toward recovery in a multitude of arenas I’ve only lost 15 lbs.; a little under 4 lbs. a month. My cardiologist mentioned that side effects of atrial-fib and atrial flutter are fluid retention and weight gain and I should expect both until the ablation surgery scheduled August 4th. Wonder if another side effect involves a craving for Chipotle Burritos?

Last week while awaiting an interview for an Angler’s Club, I stopped at Chipotle for lunch. My wife had the girls and I needed to eat so I justified a “one time” stop to celebrate my personal progress. My sponsor suggested that I should “seek hope” in something beyond my surgery, so I am stretching my boundaries and hopefully will be accepted to pursue a common passion with others. I find out July 13th if I’m accepted into the Hamilton County Angler’s Club. With a spring in my step I ordered my burrito with double carnita, the kid behind the counter had trouble wrapping the contents. After the second try to secure the burrito he said, “Oh, my God” then looked at me and started laughing. His eyes went up and down resting on my belly then he started laughing harder. I asked in a calm Zen like fashion, “What the fuck is your problem?” The girl at the cash register started to smile while watching him then her face went blank when I looked at her. I spoke with the manager and he assured me it was a miscommunication. I asked him, “If someone stares at you and laughs and doesn’t bother to explain, what would you assume?” He assured me he understood and gave me a gift card for a free burrito. Just what an over weight food addict needs, a free burrito. I walked out humiliated.

I tried to shake that incident off as best I could and made it through the Angler’s Club interview. Being introduced to other members around the lake, a gentleman made it a point to jump off a floating dock when it appeared I may step on. He made a big production by saying, “I’m getting off if he’s coming down!” Laughter followed and then I was asked what size shirt I wear, for club purposes only I’m sure. I replied, “4 X.” More laughter and comments like, “We’ve never had one of those.” Suddenly, standing by that beautiful lake, the middle of paradise turned into the middle of nowhere.

It has often been said that people with addictions are the last ones to know. It’s a nightmare to know what you are but can’t stop the train wreck. I believe addicts have a beautiful defense mechanism called denial. I deploy it on a daily basis. I have been trying not to focus on the reality of my weight, but the Universe seems to be sending messages in an alarmingly increasing fashion. I’m reminded of Chapter 6, page 82, in the Big Book which reads, “He is like the farmer who came up out of his cyclone cellar to find his home ruined. To his wife, he remarked, “Don’t see anything the matter here, Ma. Ain’t it grand the wind stopped blowin’?” My house is ruined and I can no longer afford to ignore it.

Just to make sure I got the point, that evening in front of a few hundred people along with my wife and children, I was called on stage at a carnival. The performer was lying on a bed of nails and wanted to find the largest individual and specified “preferable over 300 lbs.” A woman I ran into from a Sangha I attend started screaming, “Over here!” while pointing at me. Soon the whole crowd was pointing. For someone who wants to blend I am thrust into the spotlight frequently. I was called up and stood on him to the laughter and applause of the crowd and I remember thinking “I hope my gut doesn’t stick out of my shirt at this angle.”

I started my day being laughed at to the astonishment of one and ended the day with being the astonishment of hundreds. Being a freak show finale isn’t as glamorous as I had imagined as a kid. I know I’m eating my emotions and replacing one addiction or perhaps amplifying one addiction over others. There has got to be a “why” to all this. I just hope it doesn’t take more humiliating billboards for me to get the message.

I didn’t attend the Sangha gathering the following Tuesday. I had had enough of my size being a focal point for one week and I just didn’t want a cherished safe place to become another one to avoid.

Here's picture proof for shits & giggles.

Breaking Free not 'Breaking Bad'

Eating well has not been going well. I have avoided posts because of my naughtiness during Easter. Why do we celebrate everything with food? Especially unbelievably tasty treats. My daughters got four buckets worth from grandparents and us and the temptation is out of this world. Slowly but surely I have whittled away at the items they don’t like so my consumption will go unnoticed. I’m controlling some compulsions and becoming more active now that my heart's atrial-fib is under control, but I would be a lot further along the path if I were mindful of proper intake instead of eating what I wanted. Small steps. I’m headed in the right direction but my tendency to want to complete a 1000 mile journey by foot in one day sets myself up for failure. I am beginning to recognize the pot holes that line the streets of the bad neighborhood that is my head.

I have been compiling several dietary approaches and adapting those to meet my needs. I’m not sure one size fits all, but a conglomeration of different ideas can be beneficial. Strictly adhering to one person’s opinion can have horrible outcomes. Each person’s medical and anabolic makeup vary and I think your own body will tell you what works. I will watch my calorie intake to ensure that I burn more than what is consumed. That way I’ll lose instead if staying stagnant. If I don’t pay attention to that detail then I have a tendency to rationalize eating a double cheese burger & fries because I will exert myself by cutting the grass. I need structured accountability but I'm lazy when it comes to consistency. What a Catch-22.
Another area I’m incorporating is all Natural Foods. Free range or grass fed beef is slowly making its way into our menu plan and REAL milk will be there shortly as well. I’m amazed at the Biggest Loser’s recommendations for food and snacks that are nothing more than chemical processed molds. Most of it is some sort of corn base with artificial flavoring. When I eat these recommended chemical cesspools, my blood sugar becomes unstable. I don't know why, but it's a pattern. I learned from my podiatrist that a diabetic’s intestinal tract doesn’t retain vitamin B very well, so I was wondering what other nutrients my body isn’t receiving? Going natural will ensure a balanced blend and won't be a shock to the system. I don’t want one extreme or another, just a workable middle.

I was fitted for and received orthotics for my Plantar-Fasciitis. The inserts have been throwing my spine out of alignment or they may be aligning my spine as it should be. Time will tell. I feel better with the inserts than without and I was able to walk quite a bit yesterday without tremendous pain afterward. My heart is strong and steady now that I have the right cocktail of medicines. I feel this is the most positive direction I've experienced in a long time.

I’m really doing well with activities but I'm just not motivated to workout in a gym. I hate being indoors and especially when it seems like a rush to get in, jockey for locker space, work out among the masses, then wrestle to get back to my locker and fight to get out of the parking lot. It seems ass backwards to me. We have become so sedentary in society that we need a facility to promote and facilitate activity. I would rather walk the dog or work in the yard.

I have a golf outing May 15th with old high school buddies and they have all expressed disbelief at how big I’ve gotten teh last time we've gathered. I am hoping to have a few pounds shed by then, but they are also heavy drinkers. I’m walking into a potential hot spot on two fronts. I’ve been sober 50 days and I’m just now coming out of the fog. I am still in a vulnerable stage when around a bunch of good-time Charlies throwing back my favorite drink of the Philistines. Last night my wife closed down a bar where a guy she wants to make music with was playing. I guess that’s what musicians call it these days (Hardy-har). His band apparently has opened up for U2, has his own recording studio and has had gastric bypass surgery with the result of significant weight loss. He embodies everything she’s interested in and everything I'm not. I can no longer do the bar thing, I will not have the surgery to lose weight and I don’t have a recording studio or have any desire to play in a bar. They text each other on a regular basis and I'm told friends do that, even if they're married. This morning while lying in bed she stated that she has never laughed as hard as she did last night. When I see her she is always in the grips of frustration at the kids, me or about something she’s lost or forgot to do. When she’s away from us it’s the best time EVER. Time will tell. I want to believe that all my concerns are just noise from that bad tenant upstairs again.

I’m not worried about her reading this if anyone is concerned. I shared that I was blogging my confessions of Alcoholism and Compulsive Overeating and not much came of it. I want us to have an understanding and open communication about it so I mentioned it, three times. Then, I sent her the link for the second time and she said, “I read through all your posts.” And that was pretty much the end of the conversation. She expressed some disbelief at my actions but has never mentioned it again. FB events, where local bands are playing, or where she’s meeting her friends for drinks are always front and center of the conversation in our passing. Hopefully I can navigate through this bad neighborhood of thought and just remain focused on what I need to do. “Resentment is the number one offender” I’ve been reading in the Big Book how to avoid just this kind of stinkin' thinkin'. So if I vent them here, it won’t be so bad among the living.

I really feel I’m breaking free. I feel strong and the baggage is continuing to drop on a daily basis. For today, I’m living in acceptance and that I’m promised is the key to all my problems.

“Self Seeking Will Slip Away”

I attend an AA meeting famous for the soup it serves. The regulars take turns providing culinary delights and the saying “too much is plenty” always applies. For those who don’t like soup that early in the morning there’s a box of donuts available. It’s ironic to attend one twelve step group only to trigger the overeating compulsion focus of another twelve step group. The people are dynamic and the laughter contagious. I know that’s what keeps me coming back. I’ve listened to their stories and some seem truly horrific and impossible to live with, yet there is joy and freedom that only comes from those who are truly free. Who wouldn’t want to surround themselves with people such as this? In a nut shell, I want what they have.

“Survey Says!”

The meeting format for the Soup Group is to read a question, the whole room offers an opinion as to what the correct answer might be and at the end the answer is read aloud from the Big Book. One particular meeting stands out and the question posed was “What is the foundation stone of our recovery?” Almost everybody answered “honesty” and told of their attempts to be honest with themselves and others. “If we are not honest we can’t stay sober” many said. Some confessed they spent thousands of dollars on therapy only to find recovery when they got honest. A few contributed a recovery foundation consisting of ‘going to meetings’ and ‘taking care of themselves.’ The answer was read and a room full of wisdom having some in attendance with over thirty years sobriety got it wrong. The Big Book answer was, “Helping others is the foundation stone of your recovery.” There was a collective moan as it was read followed by laughter. Service to others never even showed up on our radar.

It’s All About Moi

Considering this, I see a huge divide with today’s current focus on self and the yesteryear’s belief held by the original founders. “ME” is the new island unto us. I have heard so many repeat, “This is a selfish program” and I couldn’t disagree more. Many such as me have picked up on this “false teaching” early in recovery and run with it. Alcoholics and addicts are selfish by nature so any encouragement to continue in that behavior will be adhered to. People have boasted of avoiding family responsibilities or refusing certain work schedules in order to attend meetings. Shitty behavior wrapped in noble intent. Broken families, lost jobs and the inevitable relapse are usually the aftermath of, “I’m doing this for ME” mentality. I speak from experience not condemnation having several relapses in 24 years. Nowhere in the Big Book does it say anything about selfishness being a character trait of recovery. One of the founders of AA made it a point to share, “Never was I to pray for myself, except as my requests bore on my usefulness to others.” Who thinks this way in today’s society!? I’m sure if modern therapy indoctrinations were available his attitude would have been, “I pray for myself and in so doing obtain my own happiness and then, and only then, can I be of benefit to others if it benefits me as well” The humble, selfless efforts of a hundred or so recovered alcoholics in the 1930’s could not have made a global impact if their teaching consisted of “Self Fulfillment” rather than “Selfless Acts”.

“It’s Déjà Vu All Over Again”

“If you have decided you want what we have and are willing to go to any length to get it-then you are ready to take certain steps.
At some of these we balked. We thought we could find an easier, softer way. But we could not. With all the earnestness at our command, we beg of you to be fearless and thorough from the very start. Some of us have tried to hold on to our old ideas and the result was nil until we let go absolutely.
Remember that we deal with alcohol-cunning, baffling, powerful! Without help it is too much for us. But there is One who has all power-that One is God. May you find Him now!”

“The spiritual life is not a theory. We have to live it.” Great. Here we go again. I already mentioned I want what they have and I’m pretty sure I’ve been “properly horrified” by my disease to be willing to go to any lengths, but now once again God has the corner on this happiness as well? I tried that route and was as willing as any. I’m reminded or Woody Allen trying to convince a priest he wanted to be Catholic saying, “I’ll dye Eater eggs. Whatever it takes!” I don’t mind admitting that I’m a little nervous about the spiritual aspect having experienced the left foot of fellowship. And I'm not sure about what I can't see. As C.S. Lewis said, “When people say they’re searching for God it’s like the mice saying they are hoping to find the cat.” I’d rather keep my distance and hope for a letter to be delivered detailing the missing ingredients that seem to have eluded my being successful in recovery. But, I have a feeling a portion of the missing ingredients would be trust. That would cover the tangible and the Invisible. Flipping through the pages of the Big Book my eyes settled on this:

“Do not be discouraged. No one among us has been able to maintain anything like perfect adherence to these principles. We are not saints. The point is, that we are willing to grow along spiritual lines. The principles we have set down are guides to progress. We claim spiritual progress rather than spiritual perfection.”

My thought process has been if perfection is not the end result then it’s not worth doing. I was told I had to be perfected in Christ which always seemed to be a failed voyage before leaving port. Contemplating on this it’s no wonder my sponsor said, “Forget everything you’ve done up to this point, obviously it hasn’t worked.” The advice from the pages continues.

“If we are painstaking about this phase of our development, we will be amazed before we are half way through. We are going to know a new freedom and a new happiness. We will not regret the past nor wish to shut the door on it. We will comprehend the word serenity and we will know peace. No matter how far down the scale we have gone, we will see how our experience can benefit others. That feeling of uselessness and self-pity will disappear. We will lose interest in selfish things and gain interest in our fellows. Self-seeking will slip away. Our whole attitude and outlook upon life will change. Fear of people and of economic insecurity will leave us. We will intuitively know how to handle situations which used to baffle us. We will suddenly realize that God is doing for us what we could not do for ourselves.”

Perhaps if Christianity took this approach it would have been more attractive to me? Demanding one believe, repent and “shut the door on the past” all within a horribly urgent five minute conversation seems an impetuous act. Perhaps this “birthing process” of the new man does come slowly to some?

“When we saw others solve their problems by a simple reliance upon the Spirit of the Universe, we had to stop doubting the power of God. Our ideas did not work. But the God idea did.” I wouldn’t mind being proven wrong regarding these matters if I can laugh like those sharing their joy over a bowl of soup.

Too Little Too Late?

I experienced chest pains today. Not a vague tightness or aggravated indigestion but a ripple of pain that demanded my attention. The wave passed and I immediately thought I was having a heart attack. My youngest daughter was singing in the hallway and I thought of my oldest stating earlier that day she was happy. What a day to die. I actually was following a food plan, my blood sugar was under control and I had a successful shopping trip to plan for a healthier work week. It figures the day I begin is the day it ends. A second wave hit and I remembered a friend asking what a heart attack felt like before he died. Time passed with no additional episodes. I joined the girls and enjoyed movie night while keeping a vigil for any further developments.

This morning began with me staring at my medications. I know all the medicines except one are due to my inability to control my food consumption. I decided to gather my medicines and photograph them. By doing so I would be forced to acknowledge how far down the rabbit hole I’ve gone. Ever since I was diagnosed I believed that it would pass. Extreme denial or proper grasp of the situation has allowed me to put the severity of my situation on the back burner. I’ve heard other people’s reactions describing horror and immediate lifestyle changes when diagnosed. My experience was light years away from that. Little interest or acknowledgement was present. My compulsions have been forefront, not recovery.

A doctor once told me that diabetics are strange animals. A patient of his complained of shoulder pain and later that day died of a heart attack. He said ever since then he pays attention to everything concerning a diabetic. I thought of that today as I became motivated to work in our flower beds. They have been neglected for some time and the weather was cooperating so I thought one of my famous “Operation Clean Sweeps” would leave the landscape dazzled. A weird feeling came over me as if a whisper of warning. I paid attention and decided to relax. Whenever I control my food intake and need to tweak my insulin, my body reacts in strange often violent ways. Had I exerted myself as planned I feel it would of gone south quickly.

One recent wake up call was when I received a shot for plantar fasciitis in my heel. I believed the freezing application eliminated the pain but apparently the reaction from the doctor and nurse had me perplexed. They made a great deal out of me not flinching and contributed my pain tolerance to my size. I guess if you’re over six feet you’re immune to pain. That idiocy is another story. I didn’t flinch or scream out in pain as others have because I didn’t feel it. A two inch needle inserted all the way didn’t even cause a stir. I’ve noticed the way I currently walk the fluid motion I once had is gone. I walk like someone whose feet are asleep. The weight is becoming an issue for all areas of my body and big boned as I am the burden is noticeable and my body is making it known.

My health has been a bone of contention for quite some time in my marriage. Eventually, as in any relationship, the real issues will surface and the once ignored 800 lbs. gorilla begins to speak. Only in this situation I’m the 800 lbs. gorilla. My wife doesn’t seem to understand addictions and has repeatedly stated that I could have done something years ago about this. The helpless feeling is that I know that maybe that's possible, but I’m clueless as to how I could have or why I haven’t. I shared who I am and what I am from the beginning and at the time an assurance of understanding was given. Now, ten years later, she states, “I didn’t know you were this bad.” Hearing that spoken was like standing on an ice patch as it separates from land. Rejection has been one root of my addictions and this is just another tangle that goes deep in the soil. I became adrift emotionally and the feeling seems mutual as her time away from home outside of work has increased dramatically. I guess in a way I understand but it’s still a jab. Perhaps there comes a point when enough is enough and you seek fulfillment in other playgrounds.

The last night I drank was in her opinion the best date we’ve had in a long time. We closed a bar down and I could not speak unless slurring. Concentrating on my steps to the car I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that I was an alcoholic. You try different things to keep the fires going and I made the choice to participate in the party lifestyle knowing what I am and the difficulties drinking has caused. Bar bands are her passion and she wants to be in one playing different nightclubs. A way to include me is for me to play bass. She is also interested in bartending. I'll never see her if that's the case. The drinking environment she chooses is a poison for me. I can no longer be a part of that and I think that's OK with her. Shortly after our date night I revealed I was going back to AA. Hardly anything was said and the ice patch floated further out to sea.

My daughters are my main focus. Last night during a Father/Daughter Dance my daughters got teary eyed while we danced. In the back of my mind I wondered if it was too little too late. Perhaps that's what hell is, realizing the value of something right before it's ripped away. Intuition tells me something is in motion and I’m hoping the wheel is turning in my favor. I feel alone out here but I can’t go by how I feel because whenever blood sugars are unbalanced so are emotional states.

A medium once told me that my diabetes could have been avoided. A coach said making a come back was my greatest thing. I’m banking on a making a come back and avoiding the inevitable. My daughters deserve a daddy who will be present to prepare them for the world. I know there are no guarantees and I can get hit by a bus tomorrow, but I don’t want my death to be by my hand. I’m haunted by the thought of crossing over and my daughters seeing all that I am and rejecting me as well.

Take A Load Off Annie

I’ve narrowed down the twelve step program that best suits my needs and that is Alcoholics Anonymous. Not that I have anything against OA, but there doesn’t seem to be the clarity I find in AA meetings. Tonight I discovered the difference when ‘How It Works’ was read. OA omits this portion and only reads the 12 steps. To me that feels like receiving directions for the last mile of a ten mile trip. AA details how recovered people moved from point A to Z having lived and not just read about or merely discussed a way of life.

Tuesday I met a potential sponsor for lunch. I described my inability to define why I got more from AA than OA and he offered a beautiful explanation, “Perhaps, the members of OA have not looked the demon that’s trying to kill them in the face and been scared shitless.” He’s right. I have been hospitalized many times due to alcohol and you would think that my last detox would have been enough of a persuasion to stop. But it wasn’t. Again he offered, “Perhaps, YOU haven’t truly looked in its face, yet?” I’m mildly annoyed that “yet” is a standard interjection from seasoned program people to arrest self righteous proclamations such as “I would never get that bad” or “I’m not like that person.” I know that I’m killing myself just the same with food, but I’ve never been in an ICU having OD’d on Twinkies..."yet."

Zen’s opening line after listening to my 25 year peripheral existence around recovery was, “Forget everything you’ve tried because obviously it hasn’t worked.” Listening to tonight’s reading of ‘How It Works’ one sentence stood out in reminding me of his comment, “Some of us have tried to hold on to our old ideas and the result was nil until we let go absolutely.” Insanity is doing the same thing over and over expecting different results. I was reminded of a story describing a man treading water while holding onto a sack of stones. He started to sink and the simple solution was to let go of the sack, but he couldn’t and he drowned. Perhaps my way of thinking and continued bad habits are my sack. Do I want to sink while holding onto old ideas or swim toward clear waters of new beginnings? Tough call.

Another revelation he shared was the freedom of not having all the answers. My controlling nature demands answers. Letting go of that and admitting I don’t know sounds terribly vulnerable. Freedom doesn’t come to mind, but I’m not the one with over 30 years of sobriety.

Ironically he suggested we meet at a restaurant where I used to interview women on a first dates. Many would be relationships never made it out the door and for a long time I believed it was the place that had a bad mojo to it (couldn’t be my picker). When I met my wife I suggested we go there for dinner but it was closed and we ended up at the restaurant next door. Ten years later and we’re still hanging out only reinforces my bad mojo theory. Perhaps this interview will mark the end of that hellacious karmic run? Most “friends” have abandoned me in one way or another and I have never encountered anyone I could truly trust…”yet”

"Who will deliver me from this body of death?"

My latest blog brought into question “how do you define an eating disorder relapse?” Well, I have my answer. For the past two weeks I have not followed a food plan and almost immediately began to binge. Trips to the local convenience store have been convenient but also very hazardous to my health. My heart has been stuck in an atrial flutter going in and out of atrial-fib. This produces massive swelling which in turn inflames my neuropathy and I’m not able to walk without extreme pain. My cardiologist has prescribed additional meds. I asked him point blank if I lost 70 lbs. would my condition improve. He said no. The weight has no bearing on my electrical problems.

Two Christian acquaintances, a husband and wife, suggested my ailments were spiritual and I needed to repent and close open doorways. Recently he was told he needs a heart valve replacement. I wonder how much repentance and door closing is going on in that house? I am not using pain meds, alcohol or pot for pain management because of my addictive personality. My only solace is to eat. Food medicates and a sugar/carb buzz provides temporary relief but the down side is its short lived and exasperates my condition with additional weight gain.

“O wretched man that I am! Who will deliver me from this body of death?”

My spiritual journey at one time was all consuming. That’s my personality I guess, I consume. My journey began and has returned within the rooms of twelve step groups. I have worked the twelve steps multiple times, completed the pinnacle fourth and fifth steps and yet still returned to alcohol, drugs, food and mood altering women. I was told that after these ‘steps of action’ I would know a new freedom and closeness with my Creator that I’ve never known. I wasn’t free of anything and the closeness never happened. It’s like preparing a valentine box at school and receiving no cards. The effort was there but the result was lacking and I’m sure the suggestions that I didn’t use the correct formula or have the right prayer language will be of no short supply.

I found myself in pursuit of a God that was promised to be my best friend. “Buddy Jesus” was my new passion and I pressed towards redemption through atonement with vigor. Maybe this was what the 12 steps were lacking? After 16 years within various denominations I found everything but Jesus. Further alienation from fellow recovery people and mass confusion and disillusionment were the door prize. Jesus saves but you have to have perfect credit. I found recovery people hate having Jesus thrust on them as ‘the only way” and Christians do not like tainted people, especially drug addicts and alcoholics. Overeaters are ok with Christians because they partake in God’s abundance every Sunday at the buffets.

The 12 step program is designed to work with whatever concept or belief of a High Power is for you. Christianity is not. By convincing myself that God would love me if I pushed the “good news” like a used car salesman, I would gain favor in His eyes even if people hated me. After all, that was the price of admission; the world hated Him so it would hate me. Their loss, my gain. I really believed I was doing the right thing but in reality I just pushed people further away. You want people to leave you alone? Start talking about Jesus. It will clear a room, I promise.

Perhaps God is just another barrier to keep people away? Somehow I think I’ve used arguments of theology and practice as a way to keep people within my church at arms length…control comes to mind. “Non-believers” as they’re lovingly referred to, were kept at a distance as I bombarded them with scripture to expose how shitty their life is without Jesus. If I can’t control people then they become a threat.

Now that I’ve determined that the problem is me, what am I going to do about this High Power that is reportedly my only hope towards recovery? Step two reads “Came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity.” Step three suggests we “Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God as we understood Him.” The first three steps are all past tense actions describing how it worked for others. I feel like I’ve been there, done that and got the t-shirt. We must believe and turn our lives over. I’ve sat through hundreds of meetings and sermons and yet I’m worse now than ever.

Trapped in a body of death indeed.