My reply to James's email that accompanied his blog 'A New World'.

My reply to James's blog who, in his email to me, said this: ' funny I did a writing group today on faith and fear, I wonder where my faith is in this time of my life'. My dear Jim, Faith is a doing word. We have to meet God half way. If I ask someone to do something for me by Friday I have to trust that that guy will do it, and let go. Likewise with God. But whatever is going on in your life, I know one thing: that it has everything to do with your recovery. No matter how bleak or hopeless a situation is, there’s ALWAYS something positive lurking underneath. So look for that positive continually, and you will ALWAYS find it. And once you’ve found it – as you always will if you look long and hard enough – you will have found the solution to your problem. This is the practical way of doing Step 3. If you don’t yet trust God, trust what I say. My love and thanks for the piece. I’ve put it up on our blog. Who knows who will read it!

A New World

A New World August 8, 2014 Jim McGovern Pulling up out in front, I saw a couple of little black kids and a white one playing on the steps at a recreation center in Port Richmond. By their interaction, you could tell they were buddies. There was a time in the not-that-distant past where such a thing would have been unheard of. Growth, diversity, change, tolerance. Attitudes that can change a neighborhood…and a world. On yet another beautiful non-humid August night, having heard on the radio driving up about the massacres going on in Northern Iraq that were fueled by religious fanatics, la grande difference, struck me. Then there was the news that the bombings back’n’forth in Gaza, started up again moments after the 72-hour cease fire. About 45 minutes later, our 12-step meeting began. The topic and chapter was about the spiritual solution to our deadly disease. Eventually the literature makes it very clear that the Higher Power that will tear us away from the hell of our addicted lives is one of our own understanding. The practical step-by-step method to become aware of and then do - the will of our Creator, is what the steps and program is all about. Never is it far from my consciousness how world-changing it would be for a Shite, a Sunni, an Israeli, a Palestinian, a Christian and a Kurd to sit in a meeting together and to practice the 12 steps. The will of God, the will of Allah, the grasp of our Destiny that the sanctity of open-mindedness can lead us to, IS A MEANS to change our world. 14 years ago this very night was the first of the rest of my life without a drink or a drug. 8/8/00. Eights are huge in my life. My mom was 88 when she died. 1988 was when my dad died. On 8/3/98 a spiritual experience had near a minutes worth of pins and needles cascade my body as the thought ‘you will be insulated and protected because you believed that I love you’ stammered through my brain. 8’s – lay them flat and you have the Infinity sign. My wonder of how to pay back for that love, evolved into the taking of those steps to the world. Unfortunately I have not gotten very far. My book “12 Steps to Change the World” has not made much of a splash…my sloth and despair and lack of marketing focus or know how, get in my way. May my Higher Power guide me to and my world to overcome.

Blog 2nd November to the 9th of November The next Step in becoming a well person

Blog 2nd November to the 9th of November When I get stressed I get bitchy. I find it hard to be upfront and honest with people and tell them that their behavior has upset me (unless they are one of the patients) I think it’s a combination of different feelings and emotions, fear of the unknown, fear of the reaction, fear of having to deal with their anger, fear that they will tell everyone what an evil old harridan I am. It does not come easily to me. In the past I have either avoided it totally and hoped it would go away, or I’ve discussed my anger and my self-righteousness with half a dozen other people in a very unprofessional manner all before half past seven in the morning! When I was in active addiction that is just what I did. Now I’m in recovery that doesn’t work anymore. Maybe when I was in active addiction I did so many other dreadful things that the bitching and the backbiting didn’t seem that big a deal. Now in recovery I don’t make the dreadful mistakes of the past so the mistakes I do make are being recognized. I didn’t acknowledge this behavior before I just thought it was part of my personality. It’s not it’s a nasty character defect and it doesn’t sit well with this recovery malarkey. I know what I have to do it’s about plucking up the courage to confront in a sensitive and kind fashion as I would like someone to do to me and accept the other persons reaction without trying to justify sooth or apologies (no mean feat) My other big problem is self-righteous indignation. When Wyn first mentioned that to me I had to go home and look it up in the dictionary. I was furious and called him a few choice words (not to his face but behind his back).The cheek of it! Who did he think he was! After reflection I realized that he was bang on right. I did it a lot; in fact I did it without knowing I was doing it. Judging others, do as I say not as I do. There was me, life a mess in active addiction but I was ever so happy to tell others where they were going wrong and what they should do. I ministered to all and sundry, sound solid advice (or so I thought). And where did it get me? Absolutely nowhere, as it leaves you feeling angry resentful and quite delusional. I’m trying not to dole out the advice now unless I’m asked for it and then try to give it as a suggestion or advice through my own experience, as that’s all I have to give. My own experience strength and hope. This situation arose in work this week, one of my nurses had a close family bereavement and another nurse had swapped a shift with her. I informed the one nurse of the sad news of the other and the first words out of her mouth were “What about the shift swap” Well………………… I was shocked, upset, angry and amazed that someone could be so insensitive. So shocked that I had to discuss it with several people instead of the person herself! I shared it in group and again those words, those bloody words that have begun to haunt me I was accused of “self-bloody righteous indignation” This time I didn’t have to look it up in a dictionary. It was true; I was putting my values and beliefs on to another person. Instead of addressing it there and then, I let it fester and things that fester bother me and play on my mind and before I know it I’m preoccupied and the cycle of bitchiness and talking behind someone’s back starts again. God, this is a learning curve. I learn lessons every day and some of them are quite hard to swallow. I have an action plan, she’s on leave and I will speak to her honestly when she comes back, tell her how her reaction made me feel and how I felt it came across and listen to her response. That’s the right way to deal with it. The other dilemma this week has been visiting my mother. When we go down to see her she normally makes a big Sunday lunch, I’m on an eating plan and not to follow it means active addiction. My mother is a big enough trigger as it is without throwing food in to the equation, but I don’t want to upset her by refusing her food which she sees as a mortal insult. I shared this in group the suggestion was take your own food, stick to the plan. I asked my higher power to guide me when I was doing the sitting with my feelings in an empty room exercise. I know the group is right. I text her and told her not to cook for me as I would bring my own and she text back saying that was fine. Planning is the key. I can’t do ad hock when it comes to food. My 1:1 session was cancelled this week as Wyn had to go to Cardigan. I felt as though I had been given a get out of jail free card as we were going to discuss my Dad. My Dad died eight years ago on March the 9th. I loved him very much, and for some odd reason when Wyn asks me about him I get very tearful. I talk about him a lot but not as part of my recovery. I talk about the funny things he did and said when he was alive. I have talked a lot about my mother and her influence on me but not at all about my father. I am aware that he is on a pedestal and this has also transferred on to my children who talk about him and remember him in almost sainted and reverential terms. He died at the age of 63 of leukemia, he asked me to look after my mother and the children as he lay in hospital dying. I think he knew the fractiousness of my relationship with my mother and was scared that the tie would be severed after he went. He was a good man and I feel disloyal talking about him. My greatest fear as a child and as an adult was that something would happen to him or that he would cut me off and disown me if I did something that displeased him. I was never really honest with him for that reason. I just stopped telling him things or communicating with him on any deeper level. I know that he loved me; I was scared of disappointing him. It’s hard for a child to live like that so you begin to lie or avoid telling the truth for fear of disapproval. I also know that at some stage I have to explore these feelings and knock him off that pedestal. I presume that’s the next chapter in becoming a well person. Julie

"5th October to 1st November. Sanity returns.

Blog 25thOcotber to the 1st of November After the trials and tribulations of last week, things have finally calmed down. I went to OA on Monday and it was good to share with like-minded individuals. When I was there it struck me as rather amusing that I had let something as trivial as a pizza become such an enormous big deal. I was thrilled to bits when someone else shared their obsession with oven chips. It made me realize how all these items food, drink, drugs are the symptoms not the cause. It was not the pizza that was at fault on Saturday night it was the person who felt that need that craving and that desire beyond all other desires to order that pizza. Putting down your chosen substance or poison as a friend of mine likes to call it is the tip of the iceberg, its delving deal in to the murky waters and discovering why you feel the need to cope in that way that really counts. I have followed the food plan this week to the ticket, no negotiation, no substituting and no playing around with it, despite being invited to two gatherings both with food. I’ve had a busy week (and not busy in the look at me I’m so busy I’ve not got time to stop as I’m so important week) it has been one of those what I call “ bitty” weeks at work, where it seems as though your getting nowhere fast. Consequently this had led to some frustration, lots of saying the serenity prayer and lots of reminders to self that I am powerless over people places and things. I’ve been trying to bring myself in to the moment when I feel overwhelmed by it all and reassure myself that I can cope and this too will end. Trying to see the funny side also helps. I had an interesting afternoon this week, in my old job I felt that I was bullied, I had never experienced this in over 20 years of Nursing and it came as a shock to me. Somehow when you’ve never experienced bullying before you think you’re immune to it and when I was actually in the middle of it I was trying so hard to just keep afloat that I doubted myself and wandered if I was losing my sanity. This week a few people from the head of the company came to speak to me about it, I never reported it but my name had been given as someone to talk to regarding a culture of bullying in the hospital that I worked in. I had forgotten how much it had affected me and I found it really cathartic. As a result of this programme the 12 steps, I was not frightened any more, and I was totally honest. I gave them a true reflection of my experience strength and hope and I felt validated. I had total trust that I was doing the right thing. Prior to this I would have been plagued with self-doubt, fear and overwhelming panic. After they left, I found myself slipping into old habits, I began to have to good old “bitch fest” with another staff member who had also experienced the same thing. I had to stop myself and look at my behavior. Carrying resentments is no good for me, it causes me pain anger and preoccupation, and having any expectations of the outcome of the investigation would be just as bad. I just have to trust that justice will be served I the right way and as long as my side of the street is clean, I have nothing to fear. The end of the week has been lovely. I attended a Halloween party on Friday night, before this we had a ward party where all the staff and the patients dressed up for Halloween and had a disco. One of the staff nurses who is also known as the Legend burst in to the office in full pirate regalia carrying a fake cutlass shouting “ARR Jim Lad” She then announced “I can see really well through this eye patch” It’s fantastic when someone makes a real effort to brighten the day of others and all the staff on the ward really threw themselves in to making it a special evening. It’s tough being in hospital but I really think that little events like that make a difference and boost everyone’s spirts. A great time was had by all. The party was fun, there was drink but I had an action plan, I was on call and also I left when it started to become a little louder to go home. I was even able to sing some Karaoke without liquid refreshment (apart from tea) Tonight was fireworks in Coopers field. It always sounds best when you say “Sparks in the Park” in a Cardiff accent. My best friend and her children and grandchildren always make it a date and it was a real joy to see the look on her little granddaughters face gazing in awe at the fireworks. My bestie then bought her a light-up Mickey Mouse that she kept thrusting at people saying “Look what Nanna got me” she is just so cute. So different and so much better than the year that I took 2 bottles of brandy hot chocolate to the same event!!!!!!! Chaos reigned, and that is the insanity of this illness, thinking that was perfectly acceptable. And so I plod on, working this recovery, onwards and upwards to the next week. Julie

Blog 24th of October. We didn’t plan what to do when we returned. There was nothing waiting for us. I should have thought.

Blog 24th of October 2014 I’m typing this on the mega bus to London. It’s been an interesting week. A week on annual leave. I’ve always found holidays difficult especially when trying to stick to a food plan, there’s something inside me that thinks holidays! Yeah! Reward yeah! Do what you like, please yourself, eat your body weight in crispy cremes, go for meals, rules do not apply. Of course I can’t do that now, I signed the contract, not to follow that would make it a bit of a sham and a mockery and who would I be trying to spite? Just myself as per usual, self-sabotage. I’ve done it all this week, all the negative thinking, the bargaining, the, it’s only a rice cracker, I’m eating it standing up so it doesn’t count. Well I’m not eating my binge foods cake, biscuits, sweets and chocolate. I’ve noticed the justifications, the ohh my God this is it for ever projection. Why am I still running? People have complimented me this week, well-meaning good people, people I love, people I trust then why do I want to punch them for doing it? Is it because I think that they didn’t like me before? That I wasn’t good enough, too fat, too big, too heavy? These are all the things that my recovery needs me to look at, and look at it I have to do or I will end up with my hand in the cookie jar. This week I have been in active addiction, whether I like it or not, I broke the contract and made up my own rules. I always find it easier to be organized when I’m at work, I have a routine I have structure, therefore I have identified a trigger. Holidays and the feelings and emotions they carry for me. I’ve often become really ill on or following holidays, it’s like my brain and body keep going, keep running then bang, I crash. It happens time and time again. Most people wind down on holidays, for me they both excite and scare me. Another identification that hit me this week when having a one to one and exploring the first chapter of my life story was to examine the two feelings that leapt out at me in chapter one and they are loneliness and fear. A year ago if you had asked me if I was ever lonely, I would have laughed in your face or become quite angry. How could I be lonely? I always made sure that I was surrounded by others? I’ve got four children, I work with people. I’m never on my own. And why am I never on my own? Because I fear it, because I can’t cope with it. I used to think I loved it but now looking back it was an opportunity for me to act out, I did the bulk of binging on my own, I used cannabis on my own, I indulged in harmful behaviour on my own because I couldn’t sit with myself and my own feelings. I push them down, I eat them away. I distract myself from them by losing myself in something else, anything not to let them in. I used to say I threw all my memories in a box in my brain and locked it, that’s how I dealt with my Jekyll and Hyde behaviour’s almost justifying them because that person wasn’t really me. I developed an alter ego when I was drinking, I would even say “I’m going over to the dark side”. There was a point in the evening when my eyes would glaze and my friends would know they had lost me. Perhaps that’s when I entered blackout. I was asked to do an exercise and that was to sit on my own in a room with no distractions and just sit with my feelings. The thought of this did not particularly thrill me to be honest. I was to try this for 10 minutes every day. I tried it, I sat there and it was horrible, I was eight again on my own in the house, scared, waiting, back and forth to the cupboards to look for sweet things when the adverts came on, thinking of food watching TV, back and forth, back and forth. Lonely, bored, angry, upset. The feelings came flooding back. Memories and feelings that I had not allowed myself to feel for a long time. There were lot of distractions there too, my whimsies, my teddy, drawing, reading, coping mechanisms. I did what was suggested I tried to comfort the child within. I put my arm around her, told her it would be all right, put my hand in hers, suggested nice things to do, healthy things to do and I told her that I loved her and I would look after her now. After this I felt as I always do when I go back there, either by memory or talking disassociated. It’s a feeling that I’m looking at life from behind a screen or a TV set. One of the first times I noticed it happening was after I found my inner child in the Living Room; I was confronted by someone I love in the family group and I went straight in to the inner child. I wanted to run to scream to hit out and it scared the hell out of me. I disassociated after that episode and it took a week to finally feel that I fitted back together again. It’s my defence mechanism, my default setting, and when I look at it I’ve done it for years, another unhealthy coping mechanism. I’m not always aware that it’s happening either, I’m finding out and discovering it. The aim is not to do it, to be able to comfort that child myself so I don’t have to go to that place where you can’t or don’t feel. Following the sitting alone with my feelings session 10 minutes that felt like an hour. I decided to do something creative to get my feelings down on paper, so I made a collage. Trying to create something out of this process is important to me, as I will be able to look back and chart my growth. I also wrote two letters this week saying goodbye to drugs and alcohol. I enclose them in this blog as I want to share them with you. Saturday night. I want to record exactly what happened so I can get an angle on it. It happened so quickly so naturally I wasn’t even aware that it was happening. As reported above I had played with my eating plan this week, I was on holidays, all the excuses, it wasn’t always practical, difficult to plan, wanted a lie-in, eating out, not letting other people down, couldn’t be bothered, feeling angry (sitting on the pity pot) why couldn’t I just be normal around food. I think that I was setting the seeds. In London I did pretty well considering, I followed the eating plan until the afternoon, missing out my snack (time constraints) or so I justified, I then went for a meal before the show and faltered ordering a starter and main course in a Thai restaurant. It was delicious, and I did all the bargaining and justification going. I’m on holidays, I deserve a treat, and it’s only a small starter (I didn’t have my snack this afternoon) I enjoyed it, but again after it came, the vague sense of uneasiness - for the second time this week I wanted to self-induce vomiting, the urge was strong, to get this food out of me. The first time it happened was earlier in the week when I had played with my food plan again and gone to Miller and Carter for lunch (making this my evening meal) swapping the two, in active addiction, defying my food plan. I shared these feelings with my partner, I also shared how now I felt fat ugly rubbish and uncomfortable as I had eaten too much. I didn’t vomit; the urge lasted for a few minutes. I did feel guilty and shamed and pissed off. The concert was fab, the next day the food saga began again, breakfast at the hotel, again couldn’t control it, and diverted from eating plan again, not by much but it’s enough. I ate an extra piece of toast and some cheese and ham. Then no snack in the morning, before getting on the coach we stopped in a shopping centre, I went off to get some perfume for my daughter who was 21 that day and my partner had a coffee in Costa whilst he waited for me. I waited to save the table as he got his coffee and as he walked back I was mighty miffed to see a caramel shortbread on his plate, at least he had the grace to look a bit sheepish, “I’m sorry” he said, “That’ OK” I replied, although it can’t have been really, can it? I want it to be; it’s not my responsibility what other people do, who am I to say you can’t eat a caramel slice. I suppose it reminds me of what I can’t do and why. I was back on track in the afternoon, I bought a salad to eat on the coach and a nakd bar and managed that well. On the coach I had an idea, it came to me, order a Pizza on line when I get back and slob in front of the sofa watching crap TV. My daughter was having friends over as it was her 21’st; they would be using the kitchen, how lovely, what a treat, what a cwtchy evening. I was made up and excited. We got back, I sat down, read a little, turned on the TV and then ordered on-line. And I ordered enough for a family of 4. It was actually called feed 4 for 5 pound each. It comprised 2 large pizzas, wedges and garlic bread, I also ordered 6 dips. It came, I was delighted. My daughter picked it up from the door and piled it on the table, she asked if she could have some, I was mortified, pissed off and annoyed. This was mine, I ordered it (even though I could have fed the street). My look said it all, she said “For God’s sake!” and walked out. I opened the box, the first one was a large bacon and cheese, I was just about to stuff it in to my mouth when my partner intervened (for the first time in this entire ordering process) “Should you be eating that in here?” I was furious; I could feel the rage, the helplessness, the being caught out. It dawned on me, for the first time, I was in active addiction and though the entire process I had not acknowledged it once. I was in free-fall, automatic pilot, as Wyn says, I had by passed the” intellect” and the “conscience” and gone straight across to the “will” (action). It was frightening I was really not even aware that I had done it until those words fell from my partner’s mouth. And then I felt rage towards him, why hadn’t he stopped me? Why did he have to say that then? Why was he interfering? Why was he taking control at such a late stage? Why was he so cruel? I blamed him, I made it about him, I see myself and him joined together, he took my responsibility and made it his but he did it way, way too late in the process. Straight in to inner child, panic, hands to face, feelings and emotions out of control, what to do? I’ve bought it, I have to eat it, and there was nowhere to go. My partner insisted we turned the TV off, again I was angry and upset, spoilt my plans of having a “nice” evening. My head was spinning by this point, I felt totally overwhelmed. Point of no return, so I ate. I ate 4 pieces of pizza, some wedges and 1 slice of garlic bread. I dipped everything in a sour cream and chive dip. Then my poor partner wanting to make it better began his own method of justifications, “We couldn’t have gone in the kitchen, the girls are in there drinking alcohol” “We didn’t plan what to do when we came back, there was nothing waiting for us” “I should have thought” Again, after the event the shame, the guilt, the wanting to go to the toilet and throw it up. The sense of failure, I’m useless, I’m fat, I’m a pig, I’m vile. I wanted to pull at my fat to torment and beat myself up. I wanted to punch my fat. I hated my body. I hated the fact I was so useless. The thoughts come in, bad thoughts, “I’ve done it now, fuck it, this eating plan is stupid, it’s too hard, I can’t do this, and recovery is taking everything I love from me. It calmed down a little and after I finished my partner tool the plates and the leftovers, of which there were loads, into the kitchen for my daughter and her friends. When he came back he asked me why I ordered so much. I had never thought about this before, but it’s so true and it always happens. I order far too much, I could never eat it all. I over-order in restaurants, I over-buy in super markets as I’m scared that there will not be enough to meet my needs. I am frightened that I will not be satisfied, that someone will have more than me. Sharing a plate is torture, I am constantly aware and watching what the other person is eating. Panic rising, what if there’s not enough, what if I’m still not satisfied, then the anger if they take too much, there won’t be enough for me. I used to do it with alcohol too and woe betides anyone if I ever ran out of drugs. I could sometimes have 2 ounces in the house at one time as I had over- ordered due to the fear. If there are two people I will order double. I needed to get this down on paper whist it was fresh. I needed to look at it to explore it to understand it. I lapsed so quickly, so easily, it scared me. I woke this morning feeling wretched, angry, defiant, blaming and avoiding. I avoided going downstairs as I knew the kitchen would be full of remnants from last night’s party. Dregs and smells of alcohol and fags. I knew by avoiding I was in active addiction. I was angry at myself; I felt like a child, I felt I had let everyone down and most of all myself. I felt very sorry for my predicament. Then I began to blame my partner and felt hostile and angry towards him. I went downstairs and I shared my feelings with him, then I burst in to tears. I was angry because we had not planned; angry for the late intervention; angry for being angry with him. We went upstairs and lay on the bed, the cat came to lie beside me, “See I said, she loves me whatever size I am” My poor partner sighed and said “So do I” I don’t believe that, and that’s what I need to work on - loving all the bits of me - good and bad. The Not the food - that’s just a symptom. I needed to share this with you, and to be as honest as I could about it. I’m going to a meeting later. I have a plan for today. I intend to stick to it. Julie Goodbye to Alcohol October 23, 2014 Alcohol Dear Alcohol It’s taken me a long time to be able to write this letter, one year one month and one day of recovery to be precise. I was ready to stop back then, now I am finally ready to let you go. We had some good times, some fantastic, amazing times. It was at those times that I thought I could only truly be myself with you inside me. In the beginning our relationship was fractious and exciting and it remained that way throughout. You made me confident, I could speak my mind. I could be brutally honest. You took me higher than any mood, any drug, you made my ego spiral, I was on top of my own pedestal. With you by my side I could sing like Adele, dance like Madonna and look like Catherine Zeta Jones. I was the most extraordinary beauty, and you were lucky to be seen with me. With you I cared about nothing, I was generous to a fault, with no responsibilities. I could do what I wanted with who I wanted when I wanted. With you I knew no fear, together we would fight the world, take them on. Fuck ‘em and chuck ‘em. At the end of the night I was happy to be alone with you, you me the music and a mirror. I loved us both so much. When we were good we were amazing, you made me feel sexy, desirable and desired. We were a wild outrageous partnership, dramatic, theatrical, rock and roll, cool, unpredictable, playful and never ever boring. I loved you; I loved the euphoric highs you gave me, the craziness, the tales of debauchery, the madness and the badness. I never learnt through the mistakes we made together, I kept returning to you time and time again. I couldn’t imagine my life without you. I had tried being apart from you once but I just couldn’t, my life had been angry, cold boring and empty. In the cold light of day, after the binge, I was wrecked. My life was narrow, in my wake a trail of chaos and destruction. Hurt people wherever I looked. Memory loss, hangovers that lasted for days, black eyes, hospital beds, police cells, family and friends driven to distraction. We were playing Russian roulette but I was the lucky one - by calling it off I dodged that last bullet. You gave me secrets, lies, layers upon layers of lies; misery, humiliation, loss of dignity total loss of inhibitions. I ended up scrabbling in the dirt, knickers round my ankles. I was a bully; I was harsh, pathetic, needy, desperate, sly, silly, unreliable, hedonistic, irritating, horrible, nasty, and capable of anything, immoral, crude, lewd, vicious, boring and hopeless. And through all that I still clung to you, totally under your spell. Knocking you back, drinking you down without a second thought. Then there came that dark time when I was incapacitated by you, when you would have taken everything if I didn’t lie down and surrender to you. You had beaten me. I changed into a monster the minute I was with you, a menace to society, we created a monster together. So farewell: my husband, my lover, my friend, my once-loyal companion. No longer do I remembering through the rose tints. I remember it as it was, a bloody nightmare I was a bloody nightmare Julie x

13th - 19th October - I've no control over those first thoughts.

Blog 13th to 19th of October I’m sitting here reflecting on last week and in my tired state I find it hard to remember a great deal. It seems to have gone quickly, I’ve followed my eating plan, the times of my meal plan went a little askew on Wednesday as I went to the theater, the show started at 7.00 so I was late 10pm having my evening meal and I missed my cheese and crackers. I used to find it difficult when something like that happened and I would not have eaten at all or stopped off and bought a takeaway on the way home then binged in the car. I didn’t have to do that. I went to OA on Monday (a bigger meeting this week) I get a lot of association in listening to the stories of experience strength and hope in their lifestyle sampler book (an OA version of the big book). Sharing openly also helps, I’m getting used to being honest about my problem instead of minimizing it or trying to hide it. Let’s face it you can hardly hide the fact that you’re an overeater (the world and its wife can clearly see that) I still have cravings, Friday and Saturday night are difficult as they used to be my binge nights, I would get loads of chocolate, ice cream and cake and scoff in front of the TV. I used to hope that everyone would be out so that I could indulge myself without fear of retribution or disgusted looks, or I would entice everyone else to take place in the binging, by bringing it in to the lounge and putting it on the table for us all to share. If I was binging so was everyone else, that made me feel less guilty that made it all right. I taught my daughter a lot of my behaviors in that way, I conditioned her in to seeing food as a comfort as a reward and as a treat for a busy weeks work. Consequently she developed a weight problem. I knew from my own background that I could not pass comment on this as I was so conscious of how I had hurt when my own mother constantly reminded me, so I ignored it, the proverbial elephant in the room. This week again has helped me to accept that I am powerless over people places and things, there are major changes in my work place that are going to happen no matter what I say or do. I could waste time and energy trying to fight them but for what gain? Or I can approach them proactively work with them and try and make the best possible outcome for all parties. That’s how living the program helps me. The week ended on a happy and positive note my eldest and youngest son returned home for weekend. It’s my eldest birthday on Sunday, he will be 24 and he’s bringing his girlfriend back to Cardiff to meet the family. On Saturday evening we are going to have a little party, I continue to feel a little nervous before these events as they used to be the scenes of a lot of my drinking. I’ve held about 4 gatherings since being in recovery and I’ve really enjoyed them, probably as I can remember them. It’s lovely to wake the following day with a clear head and no creeping feeling of dread as I wander who I may or may not have hurt upset or embarrassed. This time all I have to worry about is the buffet, I have a plan not to buy any sweet items only savory therefor avoiding my binge and trigger foods. I’m also going to try and relax and enjoy myself. I have the week off next week and I plan to use it productively by doing some more step work and seeing a few friends. Next Friday we are off to London to a concert and I’m also going to put a plan in place to cope with that. Forearmed is forewarned. Onwards and upwards as they say. Saturday night went well, oddly it wasn’t the food that was so much of a problem, I ate some buffet but did not binge just picked a little. I’ve had 2 nights that have involved a lot of people drinking in the house. On Friday night my eldest son returned home with his new girlfriend for a long weekend, he asked if he could have a gathering in the house which is fine. There must have been about 14 young adults who invaded the kitchen as we sat in the lounge watching TV. As the evening went on they got louder and louder and it made me feel a little nostalgic, so I took my self-off to bed to try some meditation. On the Saturday night I walked in to the kitchen to find my friend trying to pour a drink of vodka hiding the fact from me. It’s my problem not yours I said so there’s no need to come out here and pour one in secret. I felt like Father Jack. I wandered if I should lunge towards her shouting drink? I enjoyed the night but again I had a sense of nostalgia of missing out, would I be more fun if I was drinking? Now I and everyone on earth knows the answer to that and it’s a firm NO. That’s where this illness is so sneaky, it creeps up on you and places those thoughts in your head and when those thoughts come you have to kill them. Was I the life and soul of the party last night, no I wasn’t, but do I need to be, no I don’t. I didn’t feel on top form but that’s all right as well. I was myself as I didn’t need to hide behind anything. My partner got in and he had been drinking after watching the rugby again it was a reminder, he can, I can’t. I would never begrudge anyone else a drink but being in close vicinity to someone who has been drinking and smelling drink on breath and clothes can be tricky, that’s why I shared it with him. And that’s why I wanted to share these thoughts through my blog. I know if I share them it takes the power out of them, it was not surprising that I has a drinking dream in the night. I have them now and again that I relapse and decide to keep it a secret, it’s such a relief to wake and find out that I’ve been sleeping. I’ve also got nothing to hide behind anymore, no drink, no drugs, no food, just me trying to deal with life without using anything outside of myself. It’s as easy or as difficult as I want to make it. Julie