Our responses to pain can teach us something about our character defects
My dreams started out bigger than hitting 80 pounds on a scale. My whole life I wanted to grow up to be the kind of woman who made a difference. I feared that my own mother, born in a different time and place, had wasted her potential by denying and ignoring her dreams. My mother was like one of those houseplants that can thrive anywhere but would probably do best if you didn’t uproot her every 18 months. In a moment of rare vulnerability, she once confided how hard it was to stay with my dad and roam from city-to-city in search of his perfect job. But it was harder to leave; she loved him; she didn’t know how she would support four kids.
I observed how she coped with each move, ordering her life around her soap operas - The Young and the Restless, As The World Turns, and The Guiding Light. Whatever state she lived in she could always count on tuning in to see what nefarious deed Victor was up to while she waited with baited breath to see if Nicky would take the scoundrel back. I wanted more than tv buddies.
When I went to the University of Virginia in 1974 I was part of the second class of female admissions in what had traditionally been an all male school. It was brutal. The men were not happy. Fraternities assigned pledges to sit on the hill overlooking the Emmet Street Bridge - a crossing point for anyone headed to the cafeteria. Armed with cardboard signs, these recruits would rate each of us on a scale of 1 - 10 every single night when we headed to dinner. It did something to me. Already self-conscious about my appearance this public shaming paired with the ability to stop eating without anyone noticing was a killer combination. My eating disorder took off.
Notice the following:
* Not all women subjected to this abuse developed an eating disorder.
* I have a genetic predisposition for addiction. Some in my family use drugs, others alcohol. I developed what is called a “process addiction,” which pretty much means a compulsive behavior that is not related to alcohol or drugs.
* I needed opportunity. At home I would have been fussed at for wasting food. I would have been called out for weird eating behavior. At college, no one noticed.
* My body responded to the experience with delight. It felt good to starve. I felt powerful. For whatever reason, my body fed me positive cues for restrictive eating. Each of us respond in distinctive ways to self-destructive behavior. This was mine.
Underneath these issues were my enduring vulnerabilities: fear and dishonesty. There are basically four defects of character: selfishness, self-seeking, dishonesty and fear. These are the issues the Sixth Step is asking us to acknowledge and prepare to let go and let God remove.
