"Whatever the precise definition of the word may be, we call this plain insanity…with our sound reasoning there inevitable ran some insanely trivial excuse for taking the first drink."

But the actual or potential alcoholic, with hardly an exception, will be absolutely unable to stop drinking on the basis of self-knowledge...willpower and self-knowledge could not help in those strange mental blank spots…"

I read this chapter nodding my head throughout and at times thinking a very loud, "YES!" I feel such RELIEF that my compulsion to overeat has been lifted. The longer I'm abstinent, the more I realize how sick I really was. And all that time, how badly I wanted to be normal, or at least to look normal.

It says at least a couple of times in this chapter, that the writers hope that they can "smash" home the point that the real addict will be unable to stop [eating compulsively] based on self-knowledge. Last night I was reading from another AA book called, Alcoholics Anonymous Comes of Age. In this book, Bill W. gives a longer version of his story where he talks about his many failures in reaching alcoholics during the first several months of his sobriety. (This was before he met Dr. Bob.) He reached a point where he realized that his sobriety would be in danger if he couldn't work with another alcoholic. He consulted with Dr. Silkworth who suggested that Bill needed to deflate the alcoholic's ego first, as one alcoholic to another, armed with the information about the usual prognosis for alcoholics. Then present the solution.

Well, this has been "smashed" into me on a cellular level: I AM ONE BITE AWAY FROM A BINGE. Always. AND I have no mental defense against that first bite. It means that I have to take whatever steps are necessary to ensure that NO MATTER WHAT, I don't take that first bite.

Before I accepted that in myself there was always a point before a slip that I knew it was coming. Sometimes it would be weeks before, and it was scary. Sometimes I'd fight it and often I'd flirt with it because I kept hoping that the next time would be different. It never was. And though insanity ensued, I used to feel relief when I finally "gave in" to that compulsion, usually with a mental, "Oh, f___ it." The relief was short lived.

A few years ago, a non-program person shared a story with me that really showed me the extremes that we go to in order to be "normal." This man has a bizarre allergy to milk. If he ingests it, it causes his ears to bleed and he needs surgery. He said to me, "You know, every five years or so, I just want to sit down like a normal person and have a glass of milk. So I do. Then my ears start to bleed, I spend a few days in the hospital, it costs a couple of thousand dollars and I'm okay for another five years."

Well, guess what? If I were in his shoes, I'd probably behave similarly. An attack of insanity every five years with a few thousand dollars out the window? I'll buy it. (Yeah, right, put it on my credit card.)

Well, I was given a different problem. When I haven't been abstinent, and in the midst of insanity, my problem hasn't seemed as obvious as the man with his milk allergy. Now that I'm abstinent, the insanity is very, very obvious. I need to stay on this side of the wall.

I do whatever I need to do to protect myself from taking that first bite. And because I know that once my obsession gets to a certain point, I am in more danger of that first bite (I lose my mental defense), I stay very close to the program. More than that, though, because I know that I have no mental defense against that bite, I heed a number of signals that are leading me in that direction.

I know that I can't do this alone. I use the tools of the program, and when I'm in my more dangerous modes, (i.e. wandering around health food stores reading labels), I know that I'm in isolation mode and that I need to reach out to another compulsive overeater.