Nerves

It's been so long since I've felt any sense of anxiety.  Yet, last night during the ABA meeting, I listened as my sponsor described her recovery and I idled as the anxiety crept back in.  She detailed her idea of the quickest form of recovery, which includes eating three risk meals three times per day, and that the little "vestiges of control" (which for me are my pineapple rings, nighttime drink and all other obsessions and/or distractions) are all a means of the disease.  I have to fully surrender to get better, and that scares the fucking hell out of me.  I need to eat three scary meals a day with no unhealthy snacks in-between and no alcohol to lure me into my stupor.  But there's a little voice inside, echoing throughout my head and my chest, screaming that I can't let go.  I've given up so much already.  I'm tired.  When is this ever going to end?