4 Years Sugar Free

I came to OA four years ago in early August of 2015. Although I was turned off by the God talk and worried it was a cult, within a couple of weeks, I could tell that these people had what I wanted. I saw two similarities among the people who seemed happy and calm, and they were: 

1. Happy, calm people had a sponsor
2. Happy, calm people had given up their alcoholic foods

That was pretty much the only similarity I could discern at the time. Happy, calm people were not all thin, rich, young, and fabulous. Happy, calm people did not all have Michelle Obama arms, supermodel legs, yoga abs, and Pantene hair.

I got a sponsor, and with her help, I identified that all my alcoholic foods (at that point in time) were sweets. 

We decided together that my first abstinence would be no sugar. I ate whatever else I wanted. Eventually I started to get some sanity and wanted more, so I started having three meals a day, no snacks. A few months later, I started avoiding second helpings. Four years later, avoiding sugar feels like first, most important thing I did, but my abstinence has been gradual and evolutionary. 

What started as avoiding sugar has morphed into avoiding a lot of other things, and now I even weigh and measure my food (which I vowed I would never, ever do, but hey, here we are). 

But it didn’t start that way, and if you’d told me on Day One that I had to avoid white flour, caffeine, artificial sweeteners, nuts, pizza, eggs benedict, chips, crackers, and anything from a box or bag, I would have run. Truly.

However, I have discovered through trial and error, sponsorship, and help from HP what does and doesn’t work for me. The list is longer than I’d like some days, but I have neutrality with sugar 99% of the time and neutrality with food in general probably 90% of the time. I have more neutrality when I eat from my green light list, work my program, and work 10, 11, and 12 on a daily basis. 

I’ve lost somewhere between 50-60 pounds, and I truly never thought I would say this, but as Sheila J from California says, “my weight loss is the least interesting thing about my recovery.” Still, I know so many of us come to lose weight, and it does have its advantages. Less weight means: 

• I can easily fit in an airplane seat
• I can buy clothes at normal stores and in styles I like
• I can fit a hotel towel around my body without a huge gap because the towel doesn’t meet in the middle
  
  

Honestly, that’s about it. Less weight does not mean I am inherently a better person or that it’s easier to love myself. I lost weight plenty of times before and didn’t love myself. It doesn’t inherently mean I stop comparing myself to other women or that I feel skinny enough. That has all come through step work, program work, and really turning all this shit over to God as I understand God, asking daily for help. 

What happened to my body is boring. Here are the changes I think are interesting. 

Today, I am happy most of the time. I like my husband better (explain to me how THAT works, because I don’t get it). My house is a happier place to be. My career has taken off. I have a job that is beyond my wildest dreams. I have a life that is fulfilling and satisfying and mostly pretty peaceful, even when bad shit happens. 

This has not always been true. 

It hasn’t even been true for very long. 

I am a 43-year old size 12/14 woman who wears a bikini to the pool. I walk past all the suburban moms in skirted, high-necked swimsuits in my bikini that shows the silvery stretch marks bestowed on my belly by three pregnancies and all the weight gain and loss. My confidence did not precede my first appearance in a bikini, it followed it. I still get nervous about my first bikini outing every June, but somehow taking the action of being brave makes me feel brave. Though it feels tenuous and new, like falling in love, I am at peace in my shape, and I wear a bikini not as a “fuck you” but as a way to honor my body after years of abuse and degredation. 

While my character defects have not been removed, they have been lessened and lightened. I am improving. My resentments used to feel like a two-hundred-pound sack I lugged around with me everywhere. Now they feel like a twenty pound sack that I can occasionally set down. 

I was angry at my husband every single day when I came into this program. Now it’s maybe once a week. It feels like a miracle! And he hasn’t really changed at all! I have forgiven my father (ok, 90%) and my brother (ok, 90%) and a lot of other people who I used to obsess over. 

I don’t ingest sugar or white flour or artificial sweeteners or caffeine or alcohol not because I hate myself and want to control my body, but because I love myself and am powerless over these things. They are my crystal meth, my oxycodone, my cocaine, and I can’t have just a little. I either want an endless supply or none at all. One is too many, and an oceanful is not enough. 

Here’s what hasn’t changed: my house is still messier than I’d like. I lost two dear friends (one died, one dumped me). I still worry about saving for college. I still get annoyed at my kids and my husband. I still gossip more than I’d like and exercise countless other character defects on a daily basis. Shit still happens: plumbing backs up, air conditioners break, cars die, people die. 

Someone told me once that we don’t get better, we get faster. And that has been my experience. I move through pain faster. I move through cravings faster. I move through insanity faster. I move through obsessive thoughts faster. I move through self-hatred faster.

Someone else told me that for every year in recovery, you get one second between thought and action. That sounds about right to me, though for me it might be more like half a second for every year. I think at four years I have somewhere between 2-4 seconds of pause, and those seconds feel very precious to me. 

I’d love to hear your recovery stories! Send them in to me at happyjoyousaf@gmail.com, and I’d love to feature some on the blog.