A day for surrender...

I wake up this morning at 6:30 am STARVING, with a killer headache, no doubt related to dehyradation, the pre-bed binge and purge, and lack of enough food that I did NOT puke up yesterday. Realize I am out of Advil. Scrounge around in a drawer until I find an ibuprofen that managed to make it home from the hospital in my scrub pockets one day. THANK GOD. 30 minutes later I still feel like crap, so I stumble back downstairs, ignoring the remnants of last night's binge (empty food containers and dirty dishes on the coffee table, take out bags on the floor) and into the kitchen to make something to eat. Oatmeal. While it's cooking, I lay back down in bed for my morning meditation:

Breathe in..... You are enough.
And out.... And I surrender.

This has not been a week of surrender. This has been a week of "But I want it." And "I want it" is not so conducive to recovery. But today, as I survey my living room, my yesterday, my last week, my life, I say: You are enough. And I surrender. I chew my oatmeal slowly, methodically, a chewing mediation. I meet a friend, walk to church. A walking mediation. Smell the Christmas trees now for sale. An olfactory meditation. Celebrate the first Sunday of Advent, sing, pray, take notes on the sermon. The sermon focuses on discipline, the partner to surrender in recovery. This week has not been about discipline either. The pastor goes on to talk about the liberation that comes when we surrender control to the perfect law of God. Hmm. Surrendering control--another thing this week has NOT been about. But I listen. And I try to gasp onto the truth in his words: the truth of perfect freedom, born of discipline and surrender.

I walk home. It is a perfect Manhattan fall day: cloudless, concentrated blue sky, bright sunshine, crisp air. Wander into Barnes and Noble. Take my time at Fairway, filling my cart with the bright colors of fresh fruits and vegetables, nourishment. Come home and make myself brunch, tofu scramble filled with my favorite vegetables. Call a friend and nourish my soul as well, letting her voice and laughter lift my spirits.

Today is a new day. You are enough. And I surrender.