29th to 6th December - Retreats than changed my life

Blog 29th Nov to the 6th of December Retreat I have just come back from my third retreat with the Living Room. The retreats are amazing experiences that enhance and strengthen my recovery, I also learn to look at things in a different way and embrace new ways of thinking that require willingness and an ability to challenge what you think you know. All this in the company of like-minded individuals in a safe and loving environment, that is non-judgmental humbling and very healing. The first retreat I went on I had such an outpouring of emotion that I was quite overwhelmed. On return I was exhausted it had been one of the most enlightening and freeing experiences of my life. I went consumed with shame and guilt, but with the help of the group and Carol in particular I was able to leave that in Trefeca. For the first time I was able to be honest with another human being about the past, whilst continuing to feel safe to trust and to feel the power of unconditional love. I returned from that retreat with the strength hope and courage to face step 4 and 5. The second retreat in St Non’s was cathartic as I was able to examine my relationship with my mother a relationship that had been strained and difficult for as long as I can remember. The sense of fellowship on that retreat was amazing, the group bonded so well and so much as there were tears there were many, many laughs as well. One member of the group remarked that you could go for a walk and no matter what member of the group you met on return you felt comfortable and safe, there were no chiefs everyone found their place and fitted perfectly. It just worked. I was told in the early days that recovery was like peeling an onion removing layer after layer to reveal the person underneath the personality. This statement is very true, as each layer is peeled off you discover more and more layers underneath. In St Non’s I learnt all about my eating disorder where it originated from and how I could be free of it if I took action, accepted it and surrendered. I was unable to do this until September when comforted by a year in recovery from drink and drugs I decided to take that leap of faith and deal with the elephant in the room - the food. For a year I had white knuckled it “take the drugs take the drink but you’re not taking my food”, all the time binging, getting bigger, clothes not fitting, feeling fat, hopeless and enslaved by that compulsion to binge on chocolate, cake, biscuits and sweets. I had experience with the 12 steps; I knew they worked. If they worked for drugs and drink they would work for food too. In order to do that I had to surrender, to recognise that one day at a time my trigger foods had to go; to me those foods were my alcohol and drugs. I could eat anything savoury as I did not binge on savoury foods; sweet foods, however, were no longer part of my repertoire and I realised that this was actually OK with me as I could not use these foods in moderation. I am incapable of eating 1 bar of chocolate, so my daily simple plan is don’t take the first bite, follow your eating plan, be honest, eat at certain times and in certain places, go to meetings, daily contact with your sponsor, do some service, prayer, reading, hand it over, and always stay close to the group. On the third retreat this weekend (again in Trefeca) I had two aims, the first was to learn how to make contact, comfort and love my inner child, the second was to build a solid recovery to boost what recovery I have and to trust that I would be taken care of, and to plan my action over the festive period. Planning for me is key when it comes to food. I was fearful about breaking down and being overwhelmed by emotion. I don’t know why I fear this so much; I think it’s to do with being vulnerable. I dislike crying in front of others as I see it as a display of vulnerability and not being able to cope. I know this is utter clap trap and if someone said this to me I would laugh. Challenge those negative thoughts. Crying actually hurts me, I can get so far, tears will fall down my cheeks but it’s silent. Totally silent and really painful, the pain is in my throat and jaw, no sound just a pain and a block in these areas. Weird! I had an epiphany moment on retreat when we looked at active and passive signs of seeking and looking for love and pushing love away or pretending that we were self-contained and did not need love anyway thank you very much. I realised that my confusion came from trying to be different things to different parents, active with my mother and passive with my father. For the first time in my life I saw my father as a human being, I brought him down off that pedestal and began to feel some real feelings for him. I could see that he was not a saint nor was he perfect, my great protector; I had made him those things. I had wanted him to be those things, so I had created this fantasy world where he became them. It was a huge step in my recovery. I wrote him a letter and the resentment poured out, it also helped me see my mother in a more compassionate light and I wrote her a letter of apology. The third letter I wrote was to me as a child apologising for everything that I did to hurt, damage and poison the child within and resolving to look after that child and listen to its needs from now on, to comfort that child. I am the adult now and I can take care of it. I felt a huge sense of relief when we burnt those letters. I was beginning to get to the core of who I am and why I was behaving the way I was. Finally, I learnt that I had to love myself, that this is the most important thing for me now. No one else can or will ever love me the way I want to be loved, so I had better jolly well learn to do this for myself, and to realise that it is possible. The end of the retreat was a beautiful experience; we had an interdenominational service in the little chapel where all of us, in different stages of recovery, took part and read, sang, recited and gave thanks. Some of us read verses from various texts and poems that had inspired and helped us in recovery; some of us chose songs that had special meanings for us; some told their own personal stories and expressed their gratitude for recovery. It was a moving, humbling and very special occasion and I felt privileged to have been a part of it. Roll on the next one! Until then, one day at a time. Julie