Falling Down

I started attending Overeaters Anonymous (OA) meetings about 2 months ago. I am a compulsive overeater, and that's no lie! It's taken me a long time to realize it, which seems funny to me now, it's so obvious.

On Friday, I received my 60 days of abstinence medal. A milestone. How did I manage to accumulate 60 days of abstinence from overeating? Amazing! On Sunday, I broke that abstinence. I fell down. In the past, when I've fallen down, I have often just said to myself, "Oh fuck it! This doesn't work. I'm just not going to do it anymore." And not just about food or dieting; about many things: exercise, learning the piano, learning to be kinder in relationships, being nicer to myself, etc. I don't like to fall down, and I use it as an excuse not to go on.

"It's too tough! I can't do it! Why should I try so hard? It's not worth it!" I'm coming to realize that that voice is my pride, my ego; the part of me that doesn't want anyone to see me as less than perfect. The part of me that doesn't want ME to admit I'm "human." GASP--not human! I've used perfection and doing it perfectly for so long. It's how I've gotten love, approval, and acceptance my whole life. At least that's what I thought. And that's the problem, because that kind of thinking is faulty. The truth is that I don't know why others love or accept me or don't love or won't accept me. I don't know why, and there's nothing I can do to control that or make it happen, and that realization is scary.

The grace that I've found by working a program of recovery in OA is that falling down is a natural part of recovery. It's a natural part of living. I still don't like it much, although even that could change. I'm thinking of what it's like to jump on a trampoline. I love to stay on my feet, but it's sometimes even more fun to fall down; to just let go of the control and let the trampoline catch me. And when I fall down on a trampoline, I don't just lie there and whine, "I fell down! Oh no, I can't do it, it's too tough." No, I laugh when I fall down on a trampoline. I do it purposely. It's fun! I fall down, and then I get up and do it again! What could life be like if I fall down on purpose? What could it be like to let go and let myself fall down for the sheer joy of seeing where I'll end up? What could be more fun after falling down, than getting up and doing it again?