I came into program with high hopes for the 12 Step process because I had seen it work in my life with alcohol. In the beginning, I was on a pink cloud and the "abstinence fairy" hit me with her/his wand and it was easy. However, years later when I was in the middle of a chronic relapse cycle, I had a lot less confidence in it.

In retrospect, I should have had a little more because I was finally given the gift of desperation and pain. I hear people talking about "praying for the willingness" all the time. I remember hearing a woman at a Convention say that "willingness, when it comes to addiction, is highly overrated." And there is the truth that had Bill W. and Dr. Bob waited until they were willing to stop, there still would be no program.

But... I can also see now that for me, it was the pain that DROVE me to willingness. I don't think one can make a conscious decision to "be willing," but rather it is something one needs to be driven to by the pain. And even then, I couldn't be sure that this time would be different from the hundred other times I had "tried to get my abstinence back" in the past.

The main thing I got through that pain was the willingness to take my brain out of the decision making process. I needed to be willing to go to someone and simply say "Tell me what to do" and take direction. Otherwise, my diseased brain would want to "negotiate my surrender" and that never works.

Finding the ability to reduce one’s ego to accept help and take direction isn’t easy – but it is the key to starting to recover in a 12 Step program. When I see someone coming to program saying “I’m not willing to do this, or that”, I tend to believe I am seeing a person setting themselves up to fail.

However, there is a certain logic in the defiant person’s head, based on past experience. They have done well in the past being the determiner of their actions, and often they are well above average in intelligence. The idea of saying “Okay, I give up… just tell me what to do” is an anathema to them. But that’s where the second part of the 2nd Step has to come into play: “… could restore us to sanity.”

This is one of the maddening things about this disease. We first have to realize we are not sane – at least around the food. It’s so hard because we’re often so sane and intelligent in all other areas of our lives. This is a very specific type of insanity. If it were broader – let’s say it caused me to start speaking in tongues or all of a sudden find myself wandering down the street, it would be easier to say “Wow… I’m messed up. I better let somebody else tell me what to do.” But this is another part of the disease… giving up control. It’s very hard for some of us because at earlier points in our lives, control was essential and not having it was dangerous.

In looking back, I thought the main thing I needed was a Higher Power. Today, I see that for me, there needs to be a hierarchy of Higher Powers (plural). First, and most importantly, was a sponsor. At that exact moment of surrender, I needed a sponsor much more than I needed a Higher Power. A crusty old timer in program (40 years of abstinence, 50 years of sobriety) says “The problem with OA is that too many people find a Higher Power before they find a food plan.”

I didn’t want a sponsor because I didn’t want to be accountable to another person – especially about my food. I didn’t want to have to tell someone what I’m eating. And I certainly don’t want to tell someone when I screw up!

Getting that sponsor was the key to my recovery – and getting the right sponsor. I used to say at meetings “I’m looking for a sponsor that I resonate with.” The translation was: “I’m looking for a clone of myself.” A passage from OA’s “Tools of Recovery” hits the nail right on the head on this subject. “Find a person who has what you want and ask how he or she is achieving it.”

I guess my Higher Power figured I had had enough. This March will be 20 years back, and through grace and the help of many people in program, not through my efforts. But it will be MY efforts if I choose to give it up. Luckily, I keep the memory of my relapse fresh by working with relapsers daily. As someone said at a meeting once "I'm not a slow learner, I'm a quick forgetter."