Often, when I believe I’ve made a mistake or the wrong decision, I hear those voices of criticism, of shame. They tell me I’m stupid, I should have known better, I’ve done it again! Those voices can be cruel and relentless, and they plunge me into depression and push me to my trigger foods. I’m learning to counter them with the voices of the wonderful, compassionate people I’ve met in the OA meeting rooms and what I’ve read in programme literature. I’m learning that though I may have made a mistake, it doesn’t mean that I am a mistake. That everyone makes mistakes from time to time, because that’s what it is to be human. And that my intention was not to cause harm to anyone. I mean, who intentionally spills the milk? Most ‘mistakes’ are accidents. 

A message I heard a lot when I first came into the OA meeting rooms was, “You’re too hard on yourself.” One of the precious fellows I met in those early days – let’s call her Jane — taught me a valuable lesson about that. I was driving one day, in a state of anguish, and I knew I needed to speak to an OA buddy or I would end up browsing the shelves of a garage shop. I pulled over and called this friend on my cell phone. She answered straight away.

“Jane, I’ve booked an overseas trip. I should be flying tomorrow but I can’t face it.”

I told her the reasons why, that I was wracked with fear about going, but also felt guilty and ashamed that I had changed my mind. How could I be so impulsive and stupid? Now, I would have to tell my friend in London I wasn’t coming and would lose a bunch of money in the process.  

Jane listened intently and then she said: “Open the window.”

This took me completely by surprise. “But why?”

“You’re in your car, right? Just open the window a little.”

I had learnt to respect what Jane said, because she had three years of clean abstinence from compulsive overeating and had a lovely serenity about her.

I opened the window.

“Now, that stick you’re using to beat yourself with, throw it out.”

I said I’d feel stupid doing that.

“Do it anyway,” she said.

I pretended to pick up a stick and throw it out of the window.

We chatted a bit more, and then I continued on my way.

I got the message that day about self-forgiveness and I’ve never forgotten it. I do still find myself beating myself up over things I’ve done, but it’s never as harshly as I was doing that day. I’m learning that it doesn’t help: it doesn’t change anything. It makes me tired and depressed and makes me feel like bingeing. It’s better to make an amend or try and change the thing, and if I can’t, then to accept it. “God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change.” 

-Yvonne, Johannesburg