The tea is brewing (I'm out of coffee), the sun is slowly coming up, and the frost on the church roof has painted them white, each shingle, rows on rows of perfect teeth, gleaming. Hope is a powerful thing. So is connection.
Yesterday, I agreed to do a daily food plan with my OA friend J. I am always leery of the initial novelty which makes any plan seem brilliant and successful. However, I have agreed to try this for the month of January. And so far, it gives me peace around my food. I have a plan, I will work the plan, and if I need or want to significantly deviate from my plan, I will contact J. first. And she will do the same. Hope.
And yesterday I went to an esoteric, crazy jammed pack full second hand store with my friend B. The store also rents things to the movie industry so they have all kinds of weird and wonderful things. The store has some beautiful things among the absurd, the crazy, the junk, the garbage. There is hope there, that someone will want these things and be willing to pay for them!
The amount of human ingenuity and work that goes into the diversity of all this jumble of life is inspiring. We saw every kind of dish, ceramic, glassware. Every shape, size, and improbable design for lamps. There were two huge boat anchors that would keep you tethered to earth in any gale. B. started to notice that there were a lot of scales -- at least two upright medical office style scales, six or so balances for ?commerce, a scientific scale in a glass case that looked very official, an ancient looking scale with ceramic plates that was missing the weights so it would never balance. A couple of ancient bathroom scales, one in pepto pink, with large glass dials. Once we started noticing the scales they were everywhere! B. quipped that this was because the store was such an upscale place!
There were also some great hats. Some incredibly ugly paintings that someone had enough hope in their merit or value to keep. Some vintage vibraters! A huge crazy floor lamp style electric hair curler with a cascade of woven sheathed wires like an octopus crossed with a tarantula descending from the top, each wire splitting into several with large ominous clips attached, perfect for setting your curlers or torturing your victim in a horror movie set.
B. is not willing to invite me to his home despite our strong friendship. He hasn't had guests for over four years, he says. He is embarrassed at the state of his home, his lack of furnishings, and whatever else. He is wanting this to change and has asked -- very tentatively -- if I would help him look for some new to him furniture. Of course, I would love to get in there and help. I am also aware that while I would love that, it would deeply upset him if I forced the issue or moved faster than he is able to manage. So I suggested we look at used furniture stores -- and intentionally chose this crazy place so there would be lots to look at that was completely out of the range of what he would want.
There were some good pieces there too among the clutter. I saw a lovely mid-century modern Danish table and a chair I would have bought for my place if I had had room or need. And B. fell in love with an art deco dining room table and chairs. After much looking, touching, admiring, and going for coffee to think things together over, he bought them! I was so thrilled for him. He negotiated the price, arranged for delivery, and was delighted with himself! Yay!! I am hopeful this is the start of his making a home he is happy to live in. And I am hopeful this is part of my journey in giving up my "mad exertions to control situations that are not mine to control" (as today's reading says) in favour of being a facilitator of life instead.
Not only do I need to believe I have within me the power to change and to grow, but that I have the ability to support change and growth in others. That is step 12: practicing the principles of recovery in all my affairs. Sharing my experience, strength and hope, strengthens my own experience, strength and hope!
This hope is a precarious thread. In the last few days, I have felt such despair. I felt at peace, my hand nestled in M.'s hand, talking. I felt unloveable, when B. had to change plans. I laughed, with true delight, as he admired the bottle of reptile cleaner (good for all colours!) at the thrift store. My moods have been stormy, turbulent and hard to weather. When I am down, my eating is chaotic -- restricting one moment, bingeing the next. At the worst, I'm not sure I can go on. It is as the Big Book says:
As the feelings of hopelessness and depression progressed, so did my [eating]. Thoughts of suicide came more and more frequently. It felt as if things were never going to change. Progress with my therapist came to almost a complete halt. The hopelessness was compounded by the fact that the one thing that was bringing me relief, the one thing I counted on to take the pain away, was ultimately destroying me. The end, I feared, was close. [Big Book, p.283]Yesterday, I went to the gym and worked hard - it felt good. I ate to plan. I laughed, held hands, and connected with B in a way that supports forward momentum for both of us in our individual ways. It was a good day. Experience, strength and hope. I have the experience of hopelessness. I have the strength of bearing through the darkness. And now I am starting to find hope.
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