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Thanks for Sharing

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I haven’t written for Lifeline in a while, but today life got in my way. At least food didn’t, eh? But it tried to. Yes, even with fifteen years of recovery, the thoughts still sometimes make a plausible case for indulging. The Big Book says, “We are without defense against the first drink” (Alcoholics Anonymous, 4th ed., p. 24), and defense must come from a Higher Power.

Last month I dropped my husband off at the sports arena for his part-time job. I planned to return two hours later to attend the football game. As soon as I pulled away, a “logic” process started: I could skip my dinner (the weighed-and measured dinner I had with me) and purchase a snack at the game instead. The dreaded “no one will know” thought followed. I should have used my cell phone right away to make a support call. But I told myself that I didn’t have to decide right now because the game was two hours away. Oh, boy! Danger, danger!

I went shopping. My husband and I were planning a cruise for our seventh anniversary, and I wanted some new shorts because my old ones were looking shabby. Can you imagine? I’m wearing out my shorts instead of growing out of them.

While trying stuff on, I got my size and the next size up, compliments of thinking, “You fat slob! You’ve gained weight, so you’ll need a larger size.” Thanks again for sharing, but the size 10 still fits nicely. As I tried the shorts on, a thought occurred to me: “How long would it be that way if I exchanged my weighed-and-measured dinner for junk food at the game? What would be next? How long before things returned to how they were before OA and I was struggling to pull up a size 24?”

That thought scared me. Wow! That’s reality and the defense that comes from a Higher Power. After shopping, I ate my weighed-and-measured dinner on the way to the game. It never occurred to me to eat anything at the game.

Even when the friend who joined me offered food, I just said, “No, thank you.” Do you know he left half his bucket of food under the seat after the game? That still amazes me: people who can stop. Walking up the aisle to leave, I spotted all sorts of half-eaten things. The still-suffering addict in me wondered if the food was still “good.” The recovered addict in me says, “Thank you for sharing.”

— Gerri H., Titusville, Florida USA

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