SHiFT – Recovery by Acorn

My “Do Nothing” Bench – A community-submitted blog by Lisa K:

It was suggested by a counselor at SHiFT that I sit and “do nothing” for 30 minutes. She suggested I go somewhere calm and relaxing for me and sit doing nothing in this space. I thought, “no problem. I will gladly do nothing for 30 minutes. It will be fun.” I thought about the perfect place to go. I thought about the river nearby where we launch kayaks from with the slowly moving water, the green trees overhead, and the huge and plentiful mosquitoes. I thought, “how can I do nothing if I’m swatting mosquitoes for 30 minutes?” Then I thought about the trails behind our house with a swiftly moving little creek. The next thought was, “how can I do nothing with all the people walking by, the dogs barking, and the kids laughing?” I thought I could sit in my back yard at the fire pit, but again immediately thought, “how can I do nothing staring at the yard that needs flowers planted, the grass mowed, and the trees trimmed?” I’m exhausted and I haven’t found the perfect calm, relaxing place, only a head full of “how can I …?” thoughts.

I then thought about a cultured garden nearby where we are members. It is calm, peaceful, relaxing, with a little pond, and many nooks in the landscape with benches to sit upon while contemplating the nature around them. I thought, “what can I bring with me to do nothing? Can I bring my fabric applique? Can I bring a relaxing book? Can I bring my journal? Can I bring my phone?” Again, feeling exhausted before I even left the house. I brought my keys, driver’s license, the card to get in, and my phone (for emergency purposes, of course) and set out towards the gardens. The whole way there I thought about what I would think about while doing nothing. I thought about how long this excursion was going to take. I thought about how fun it will be to do nothing.

I arrived just as the gardens opened and was sparsely populated. I walked down the path past flowerbeds, lawns, trees, birds, and a few gardeners, looking for the perfect “do nothing” bench. I finally found one tucked away in a garden bed with trees, flowers, and a view of the little pond. I sat down on my “do nothing” bench and panicked. What on earth was I going to do

for 30 minutes? No one to call, nothing to do with my hands, no one to watch. So, I took out my phone and took pictures of the flowers, trees, and pond from my “do nothing” bench. I thought about my to-do list at home, my grocery list for later that day, my recovery tasks for the day, and the thoughts went on for another 15 minutes.

I finally settled down, set my alarm for 30 minutes, and stared at the pond. I looked at the flowers, I discovered 4 different species of butterflies in my little garden bed. I marveled at God’s creation, in amazement of the beautiful colors and shapes, in awe of the quietness that allowed me to hear the woodpecker at the tree to my right. I thanked God for all of this “nothingness.” I noticed my heartbeat slowed down, my breathing became calm and regular, my anxious thoughts vanished. I was left with nothing but God’s love and a peace I have never slowed down enough to feel. If this was “doing nothing” I was falling in love with the experience. When the timer went off and startled me out of my calm, I sat for another 5 minutes taking in the beauty around me and within me. Grateful to God for giving me the gift of experiencing myself alone and without distractions. A beautiful gift, in deed.

I was so excited about my experience that I returned to my “do nothing” bench to share it with my husband. We sat and did nothing for several minutes. Just holding hands in the quiet and calm space, no words, no squeezes, just nothing. I will be returning to my “do nothing” bench regularly to experience myself and the “nothingness” that I loved there. May God continue to bless my “nothingness” and may He continue to reveal myself to me on my “do nothing” bench.

Lisa K

A tug-of-war with the past is my current state. I have held on to the messages of the past, fostering them, fueling them for decades. It is time to let them go. So easy to say and yet so hard to do.

In a recent therapy experience I was given a rope to hold on one side and members of my past role-played on the other side. The members of my past taunted me with messages of high expectations for perfection, pressure to take responsibility beyond my capacity, my inadequacies, fear of others’ poor perceptions of me, and the list goes on. They tugged on the rope trying to bring me closer to them and keep me ensnared in their grip. I tugged back holding onto the lifeline to them and their messages. I began believing them, trying to pull them closer to me all the while they tugged trying to pull me closer to them. Who would win in this battle of wills? Who would be the victor over my thoughts, feelings, body, and soul? Would their messages that I have held onto for decades continue to ring true in me? It seemed they would, until the counselor gently whispered in my ear, “what do you want to say back?”

I gradually began to say things like, “you’re wrong,” “stop taunting me,” “let me be.” They only screamed louder and pulled harder on the rope. It seemed useless and futile to gently ask them to stop, so I screamed louder back at them. Until the thoughts came to me that I could just drop the rope and send them flailing backwards. Could I really do this? What would happen to them? Would they get hurt? The tug-of-war raged in my head around the ideas that I could really let them go all while they screamed at me to maintain my “perfection” and “hyper-responsibility” and I screamed back “stop it!” I finally was too physically tired and weak to keep pulling at that rope, to keep tugging them closer and closer to me. I squealed “I’m done!” and let the rope go, sending my opponents from the past falling backwards to the ground.

I sank to the ground in tears, was it really that easy? All I needed to do was let the members and the messages of the past go? I didn’t need to carry them around with me or hold them close to my head and heart? Hmmm. What do I fill my head with now? What do I feel in my heart now? The counselor pulled me up off the ground and sat me in a chair next to her. She stroked my hair and wiped tears from my face telling me, “You don’t have to carry them with you anymore. You are free to be you. You are free to be who God created you to be.” I continued to sob as I let go of past expectations and saw myself as a daughter of The King.

I actually won the tug-of-war with my past. I let go of the past and the power it had over me. My tears stopped and I stood up tall and free that evening, without a care in the world that I needed to fix. There are many areas of my life that I am called by God to let go. I want to live happy, joyous, and free today without the taunting messages of the past haunting me. I truly forgave the members of my past for the messages they gave me both explicitly and implicitly. They no longer rule my mind, heart, or soul. I am free!

Lisa K

My husband sent me this picture during a recent work trip abroad with the caption, “Isn’t this funny? I thought of you.” At first, I thought maybe “fat” was a way of saying “really cool” in the country in which he was traveling. Then I thought, “isn’t it nice he is thinking of me?” While I was thrilled he was thinking of me while traveling, it very quickly brought up some deep shame about my food addiction and the drive thru life I have led for most of my life. Those yellow McDonald’s arches represent the epidemy of the fast-food industry for me. They represent the quick, easy, poor quality, instant gratification I had come to know and love throughout my life. They drew me in to the drive thru line many times as a child and teenager only to become a daily occurrence in the last decade of my binging. In fact, by the end of my drive thru life, McDonald’s was the main sustenance I ingested not just daily but multiple times per day. I had a breakfast, mid-morning snack, lunch, afternoon pick-me-up, dinner, and I-have-to-stay-awake nighttime order at the ready. I would only pick up food through the drive thru or have it delivered so that no one would really see how much I was eating at one time or what my binges really looked like.

I was stopping on the way to work, between work locations, on the way home from work, to OA meetings, on the way home from OA meetings, I even left OA meetings half way through in order to get food to settle my unpleasant feelings during those meetings. I was showing up to OA meetings, but I was very quiet, never really speaking, not participating, not doing service, only sitting and listening to how uncomfortable I felt. I didn’t take in what others were saying and rarely would apply it to my own life. I would listen to the Alcoholics Anonymous Big Book being read and thought, “wow, those alcoholics are really bad off, I’m glad I’m not one of them.” All the while I was binging at a rate that was out-of-control, not being able to stop once I started and not being able to stop myself from starting. I wanted instant gratification, I wanted an easy life with quick fixes, I wanted everything handed to me without a care for the quality of what it was or how it got to me, I wanted to hide myself and my food consumption. I kept looking for the magic pill, supplement, acupuncturist, or doctor who would solve all my problems in life with one easy solution. I was living a quick, easy, secretive drive thru life, not truly participating in it fully, expecting no real solution.

I was driving through life never really stopping to assess where my life was or where it was going, I was just speeding down the highway of life towards an early death at the ripe old age of 53, when I shoved the last Big Mac into my mouth and God showed me SHiFT Recovery by Acorn. This was the shift I truly needed. At first, I expected it to be the same quick, easy, poor quality “food” I had become accustomed to in my life. But I was very wrong about every aspect of that expectation. Working and more importantly, living, recovery through Shift was far from quick or easy. It was the high-quality sustenance my body, heart, and soul needed. Shift presented me with a program for living that challenged me and shook me to the core. I could no longer hide in a room full of people. I remember the first few days of my virtual intensive when I was sitting as far away from the computer screen as possible with as little of me showing as possible. I was challenged to stop hiding and actually show up and be present to the group. I was also required by Shift staff to participate in the Shift Strong Call zoom meetings by being on camera and speaking at every meeting, introducing myself and sharing my feelings along with an issue that was current in my life. I could no longer live a secretive drive thru life, I had to be present to myself and others. I not only had to share myself with others in recovery, I had to listen to others and follow their lead.

I am continuing to learn how to slow down and stop speeding through life only pausing long enough to drive thru a fast-food joint for my quick, easy, secretive fix. I am learning that there is no quick and easy fix, there is only slow and methodical methods for living a life full of happiness and true sustenance. I am learning to pause, feel into my heart for my deeper fears and longings, and to surrender them all to God. I am learning to stop and savor a life worth living in recovery, one small miracle at a time.

– Lisa K

The Playground of Life

By Lisa K

As I listened to Amanda Leith describe the “downward slope” of addiction I immediately went to the memory of being propelled down a slide in the playground. I remembered the old metal playground slides of yester-year. You know, the ones that heat up in the summer sun and burn your backside when you slide down them. I can remember those being the only playground equipment I could safely, well almost safely, use in my childhood. I would eagerly stand in line waiting my turn, climb the stairs and precariously perch my oversized body on the top of the slide. With one minor shove I was off, careening down the slide, excited & jubilant as the wind hit my face and blew through my hair. I knew that once the ride began there was no stopping it until I hit the bottom of the slide instantly feeling dread as I fell off the end. I would find myself sitting in the sand at the bottom of an exhilarating ride, embarrassed by the flop I made at the end of the journey. For many years, the exhilaration would outweigh the embarrassment and I would race as fast as my obese body would carry me to the end of the line and eagerly await my next turn. As I got older the slides became longer and longer. I would wedge my growing body on the top of the slide and hope that the longer slide would give me the desired exhilaration, postponing the inevitable drop to the ground ending my downward journey a little longer. As I grew older, I learned that the push I needed to get going was lighter, the desire to end the ride was lesser, and the inevitable drop to the sand could never truly be avoided.

This playground memory makes me think of the addictive cycle in the playground of life. I have many memories of waiting for my food, thinking and salivating at the thoughts of this food or that food. I remember climbing the stairs of various actions to acquire my food, and the anticipation of the exhilaration that the first bite would provide. Once I shoved the first bite into my mouth, it would slide down with more and more bites, not being able to stop them from coming, until I would hit the end of the food and drop to the floor in agony and embarrassment. I no sooner would be done with one binge and I would start planning the next time to eat. I would eagerly plot out what I was going to eat, when I would eat it, and how I would get it. Thirty-four years ago I lost some weight and told myself “I would never gain weight again.” I donated all of my “fat” clothes in hopes that the playground of life would change and I would never ride the slide of food addiction again. Well, that slide in the playground had too much pull and called out to me daily, tempting me to get up the stairs and ride again. That is what I did for the next thirty-one years. I repeatedly found higher and higher slides to ride, consuming more and more food each time waiting for the exhilaration of that first bite and the many to follow until I hit the ground in misery and shame. I couldn’t stay there on the ground writhing so I would seek out the next food “fix” and do it all over again, propelled by a disease I didn’t know I had and didn’t really understand.

I hated those meals, which quickly became days, soon to be decades of endless eating. I couldn’t stop from getting up on the slide of addiction and once the journey began with a bite I couldn’t stop the ride down. I was compelled to continue using this slide, hoping one day the exhilaration would not be followed by dread and shame. That day never came for me, only

more and more despair. The food began to not give me any exhilaration, only extreme sorrow and sadness. I became so disillusioned with myself and the image of God I created in my head that the last time I hit the ground I was ready to stay there and die in the playground sand. I lay in the sand not being able to pick myself up and staring up at the slide wishing God would put me out of my misery.

Until unbeknownst to me, God provided a solution. One I stopped looking for because it never came. God provided this solution through a food addiction program, relationships with a food addictions counselor and many recovered fellows, and clear directions in a Big Book of recovery. God gave me the courage to let Him pick me up out of the sand and set me a path walking around the playground and away from the slide of addiction. By walking this path, one day at a time, one moment at a time, one prayer at a time, I am able to stay clear of that first bite which would only propel me down into the pit of despair yet again. I have come to learn that I have to do the footwork. I have to walk the path by living all 12 steps on a daily, if not moment-by-moment, basis, but I don’t have to do it alone. God is with me all the way, steering me in the vast playground of life. When I admit I am utterly powerless over the slide of food addiction and I give a God who is all powerful complete control of my life, He shows up in ways I could never have imagined.

I never thought I could play on any playground equipment other than that metal slide that in the end led to only torture and hate. As long as I stay clear of the slide of addiction and allow God to lead me, I can go anywhere and do anything. I can play on any equipment and feel the exhilaration of living happy, joyous, and free. I have discovered so many other ways to play in the playground. I can walk through the sand, I can hang from the monkey bars, I can sit on a swing, I can run and jump on the merry-go-round. I can live a full life without regret. I love the playground of life that God and recovery have given me today.

Lisa K

I just returned home from a long weekend at the Eastern Shore and am reflecting on my experience there. Moving from the fear around the hustle and bustle of shore life with all of its sights, sounds, and smells to the calm in my soul when watching wild ponies stampede across marshland. I have no idea what spooked them into running so fast from their leisurely wanderings in the marsh. But something scared them into running into the woods at a pace I could not keep up with even with my camera lens. What spooked these majestic horses? I don’t know. What caused them to seek shelter in the woodlands? I don’t know.

What I do know is what spooked me during this weekend. When I first arrived, I wanted to be a shore member. I wanted to be like the locals, I wanted to fit in. I wanted to eat a boat load of shell fish, grandma’s homemade donuts, and of course try every flavor at the Island Creamery. I wanted to be a normal eater. I thought “just this once won’t hurt me, I’m on vacation after all.” That began the litany of foods from my past that I would NEED to eat to prove to myself and others that I was a normal eater. I would need them to taste marvelous so that I fit in.

This was my first true vacation since coming into recovery with SHiFT and entire abstinence. I was not on a trip to visit extended family, or sitting by myself secluded in a cabin in the woods, I was in a shore town full of life and food. I wanted to be relaxed, calm, and care free. I was on vacation, after all. Vacation in the past for me involved thinking about and obtaining food almost constantly. Vacation was spontaneous, eat all you want, try all the local foods, a blend in kind of vibe. Vacation was away from any food plan or diet. It was “care free” and fun.

This vacation was different, though. While it began with the pull towards an abundance of local foods, it also involved moving into nature with a quiet whisper of wind on my face and the calm in my heart I so longed for on vacation. I reached out to my sponsor and fellows who directed me towards my Higher Power for strength. I left the clamors and pulls of shore-life food and spent the days watching a sunset, walking on the beach, and spending my last day at a wildlife refuge walking slowly and deliberately with my husband. Holding hands in silent reflection, pondering God’s creation and the true care-free peace in my heart and soul “tasted” marvelous. I sat and watched the wild ponies, not a care in the world for them or for me. I stayed there for over an hour and a half watching these creatures wander in the marsh, until they were gone, running wildly across the watery grasses to the shelter of the woodland. I too basked in the delight of my abstinence and ultimately sought refuge in my God.

As the ponies left, I was grateful for my abstinence on this vacation and the ability to truly show up and be present to my husband, to God, and to my beautiful surroundings. I was truly care-free and at peace. My soul was at rest with a God of my understanding. I did not just survived a vacation, I thrived on a vacation that became focused on what was true and beautiful. I didn’t need the foods of the shore, I needed peace in my heart. I needed a place I could finally be me, a soul at rest.

Lisa K

As I sit here in prayer this morning, on what in the United States is a holiday to commemorate the many war veterans who have given their lives for the freedoms I enjoy today, I can’t help but be filled with gratitude. I can very fondly remember visiting a friend who lived on a Marine Corp Air Station near the airstrip one summer. As we were seated outside on her back porch having a lovely conversation while our girls played in the grass, there were fighter planes taking off and flying overhead. Each time the noise was so great we had to pause our conversation and following the dimming of sound she would say, “ah, the sound of freedom.” I was annoyed at the noise interrupting our warm summer afternoon and the conversation of friends who were separated for long stretches of time due to her family’s commitment to the US Armed Forces. Upon reflection, I was in the height of my food addiction then, not understanding the concept of freedom in any capacity.

I was compelled to eat and eat and eat at any chance I had. I was bound to a life of binging to the point of sickness. I was numbing out my emotions with more and more food. I was not free. I was enslaved to a disease that was wreaking havoc on my mind, body, and soul. I had no idea what true freedom sounded like, I only knew my compulsion to more and more. I was depressed and lonely in a sea of friends and family who I hoped understood freedom more than my feeble mind could muster.

I longed for freedom, but never knew how to attain said state of mind. It wasn’t until a doctor so boldly proclaimed that I was committing suicide with food that I finally took the huge step towards food addiction treatment and ultimately true freedom. When I began at Shift Recovery by Acorn, I was a broken woman who only wanted the pain to stop. Well, over time that pain did stop. But, what else was there to be gained in recovery? Over the past 2 ½ years, I have come to know a freedom that resounds in my heart, mind, and soul. A freedom from food obsession, a freedom from depression, a freedom from judgment and scorn, a freedom from a life of victimhood and trauma, and a freedom to love God, myself, and others in a more profound way. Am I perfect at living these freedoms? No, I am not. However, I am regularly feeling these freedoms and so ever grateful for them. I now understand what freedom means and I strive to live them daily.

In a recent visual imagery exercise, God led me out of a burning cabin, down a wooded path, and onto a sandy beach at a lakeside. It was there that I was able to fully feel the freedom that recovery has given to me. I stood on that beach with my arms outstretched and head tilted back, exclaiming “I am free, I am free.” Yes, today I am free. May God continue to let this freedom ring in my heart, mind, body, and soul.

Today, is my third Memorial Day that I am truly free. What I would give to go back to that warm summer afternoon, a conversation with a friend, and the concept of freedom. I want to whole heartedly proclaim with my friend, “ah, the sound of freedom.” Today, I am very grateful to the families who have given their lives in service to the US Armed Forces in numerous ways for my freedom. I am also grateful beyond words for those who have shown me the way to freedom from the effects of food addiction. I pray today for both groups in my life because it is you that have let freedom ring in my entire being. Thank you, God for this freedom, may I remember it always.

Blessings to all,

Lisa K.