When the time came for my turn to say why I was taking the class, I started to say I had an "interest in..." though quickly changed my statement to say that I had "issues with regard to addiction." I am interested in the subject of addiction though I felt like with my statement I was somehow trying to 'remove the addict -- from the me' yet the whole room seemed to know where I was coming from - denial. I had the distinct feeling that they were onto my dodgy response to my drug of choice. They too are experts in denial.
My attachment and addiction are self-diagnosed. I have not gone to AA or NA or OA or any A. I am learning. I have confessed that I'm a food addict though it probably goes much deeper. Maybe I am addicted to fat and I need food to keep up my fat addiction. I could be addicted to huge underwear. If I eat too much, my butt gets bigger. Then I calm myself down by shopping at Big Underwear R Us to buy larger sizes. I dunno. As I said I'm learning and part of my learning is trying to keep an open mind.
Taking the class was good insofar as I was able to find out from the instructor that I am only as messed up as my mind thinks I am, and my mind is increasingly (decreasingly?) not allowed to run the business of me. I am starting to actively separate my mind from reality because my mind keeps busy thinking nonsense about this, that or the other while the present moment is at hand. I need to be present in these present moments. The instructor had a poster that mentioned the concept of the chit-chattering monkey mind on one side and crazy-ass obsessive-compulsive, nonstop-thinking, koo koo nutcase mind on the other side. I immediately reached for a banana, making ooh ooh ooh sounds and scratching my armpit. I am not all that messed up after all - plus I came to class both days - so there!
During a break on Saturday I went outside the room, and watched the fish swim in their pond. There were some healthy goldfish in that pond. I was reminded of the pond that we'd made at my house a year ago. The pond is still thriving though the fish had, early on -- been eaten by raccoons. The first night the raccoons visited, the only thing I didn't do was serve the fish with tarter sauce. (What is the saying about shooting fish in a barrel?) It was THAT easy for the raccoons to get the fish out of the pond. I was heart-sick when I saw the destruction that had occurred overnight.
On Saturday while by the pond, another woman standing near asked why these pond-fish did not get eaten by raccoons? We spoke briefly about the fish in this pond comparing fish in my pond -- the fish served with lemon wedges and butter sauce. The woman seemed to sympathize with my story briefly but then she suddenly turned on me (she didn't really 'turn on me') and said, "Are you a vegetarian?"
Here I was moaning about raccoons killing my fish, and I was nailed practically red-handed by a non-flesh-consuming (thin!) human over my glorified and casual mentioning of the munching of other sentient beings. I hadn't even thought to be sad about a drumstick (I thought they just came in that shape!?) or lose sleep over the shrimp on my bar-bee. I suddenly felt consumed with guilt though I felt a bit defensive and wanted to say to her, "Well, are you a vegetarian!?" (She probably was. This is Santa Cruz. Dammit!)
I guess if I'm going to share my feeling of compassion for pond fish and make the mistake of mentioning it out loud, I need to become a full-fledged vegetarian otherwise someone is going to call me on my shit in these recovery classes. I guess it would have been too much to ask for her to stay away that second day with the rest of her people.