A Story of Recovery:

A Whole New Life

My earliest memories are those of constant turmoil. My mother was always screaming and nagging my dad and he would blow up and throw things. One time my dad got upset (probably from my mother’s nagging and screaming) and threw a bowl of cereal at her. Although I’ve blamed a lot on my mother over the years, I realize that my father shares the blame as well. His temper was horrible. I could hear him rattle off a chain of profanities from down in the basement. One time he got upset because our boat’s engine stalled, so he punched it and broke his hand. I figured his behavior was justified because he had to deal with my mother.

My mother would take her frustrations out on me, yelling and getting more and more frustrated and angry when I wouldn’t answer…but I couldn’t answer. I had learned to shut down. I was a sensitive child and cried. She always told me I was feeling sorry for myself, or would say, “If you keep it up, I’m going to give you something to cry about!” So I learned to hold it in, and food helped me do this. Instead of crying, I’d glaze over and disconnect when she screamed in my face. Sometimes she hit me, and when I got older and stronger, I restrained her so she couldn’t.

I was always jealous, envious of others, and felt like I wasn’t good enough and didn’t have enough. I hated my sister and couldn’t understand why my mother hated me. My dad was busy with his job and work on the house, but I loved him. I craved his attention and never got enough. I devised plans for running away or killing my mom and sister and continued to stuff my feelings down with food and fantasy. I dreamed of the day when I’d be old enough to leave.

I was full of fear, doubt, and insecurity from very early on. Growing up on the outskirts of a very small town, I wasn’t around many other kids and this isolation stunted my social skills. I fought with my sister the way my parents fought with each other. I was violent in school and sent to the principal’s office on numerous occasions for pinching, scratching, hair pulling, etc. I didn’t understand what I was doing wrong. I thought that was how everyone behaved. I wanted to die, and I ate with a vengeance until I couldn’t feel any of this anymore,

I found an escape in food. Flour, sugar, and quantities of food were my first drugs. They produced a kind of euphoria in me. My mother was very restrictive with food, but my grandparents weren’t. Food became equated with the happiness and joy I felt when I spent time with either set of grandparents, who had plenty of sweets around, and provided some quiet and peace in my life.

My maternal grandfather was the first love of my life. He’d play for hours, pushing me on the swing, playing hide and seek, teaching me to paint and how to drive the lawnmower, which we drove around as a toy. I believe that any self worth I had at all came from my relationship with him. I felt so special when he’d drive me around town in his old car and take me for frozen treats. He was so proud of me. I never felt that way with anyone else. Those were my happiest childhood memories.

When I was 14, a senior in high school sexually assaulted me. Within the next year my beloved grandfather died, my parents divorced, and my paternal grandmother passed away. Food addiction took off even more, and I started smoking pot. I got drunk while visiting Germany on a school trip, which resulted in a blackout.

The next few years were difficult. My father wasn’t around much and I was angry about my grandfather’s death. I felt alone in the world and I ate to relieve the pain. Something about feeling full made it seem like maybe everything would be okay.

During my senior year, I met my high school sweetheart. He was my new addiction, my way out. I was deeply in love with him, but I confused that extreme sense of need with love. We went away to college together and things were pretty good for a while. I didn’t mind at all that he was controlling and didn’t allow me to have friends or join other students in study groups. He loved me so much he could not stand to be away from me for a second, and I felt the same about him. He was insanely jealous, which I thought just proved how much he really loved me. We broke up in my sophomore year and I was ready to kill myself. I took pills, drank for weeks, and ate with a vengeance.

Then I started to spend time in bars and began to actually make friends. Now I had a new life. I had people to party with. Friends! College became a constant party. I started to experiment with drugs and relationships. There were often times when I was dating three or four people at once. I didn’t want to spend a minute alone. I somehow graduated and tried to stay in my college party town. I stayed as long as I could until there was no money left, and then moved back home. That was the worst thing that could have happened.

Back in my hometown, my reputation was less than that of a “classy lady.” I had lost any remaining self-esteem. I felt like a failure. I was living at home again at 23 years old! I tried more drugs. I drank and partied till 4 a.m. and the nights always ended with a binge to level off the high so I could either drive 45 minutes back home, or crash with my latest Mr. or Ms. “right now.” I waitressed to make money. It was a tough time.

Eventually, I got an assistant manager position in a jewelry store, and several months later I transferred to the Boston area to manage my own store. Geography did not fix my growing addictions. I quickly found the same scene. I frequented a Latin club in a bad section of town and hung around with drug dealers, who always seemed cool, powerful, and willing to share…for a price. I used my sexuality to get what I wanted, and it worked. The nights always ended the same, with a binge and a hookup. And sometimes, if I didn’t want the hookup part, I wasn’t given a choice.

I made several attempts to get away from the drugs and that life. I finally got a good job, drank lots of tea from the natural food store to pass the drug screening, and thought that now my life could begin. Unfortunately, my spending was out of control, too, so I had to waitress on the side. I was hanging out in better neighborhoods, doing different drugs, eating different food, but life was still the same.

Somewhere along the way, after a particularly physically-abusive relationship, I swore off men completely. I got a motorcycle. I was tough and had a wall of fat to protect me from the world. Don’t mess with me!

Life was the same for many years after that, until my best friend found OA (Overeaters Anonymous). It sounded interesting. Then I saw a picture of another friend when she was fat. I asked how she lost all that weight and she told me about that program. Weighing 241 pounds, I joined partially because I wanted to lose weight and partially because I had a huge crush on my friend. I dropped 103 pounds in less than a year. I used the program as a diet and didn’t work the tools or go to many meetings. I just didn’t eat. I white-knuckled my way down to my goal, but I felt naked, crazy, scared, exposed, and vulnerable. I was getting attention like never before, but because of my history with men, it scared the crap out of me. I left the program and gained it all back. 

For the next few years I was in and out of the program, trying diets, abusing laxatives, taking speed-like pills, and trying to exercise. I was, as usual, miserable and obsessed.  I did a short stint in FA, but left because I thought the people were insane and I was not willing to let go of my “uniqueness.”

I wandered into an AA (Alcoholics Anonymous) meeting, by the grace of God. I thought if I could just stop drinking then perhaps I’d have more willpower not to eat. I stopped drinking right away. Then I heard that smoking pot (I was down to just pot) was not “sober.” I reluctantly put down the pot, if for no other reason than to fit in with the new “cool kids” I had met in AA. I picked up cigarettes. I suddenly became interested in men again, after 10 years. I realized it was because I was finally safe from the horrible situations I put myself into when around unhealthy men. Unfortunately, AA could not solve my problem with food. I substituted more food and started rapidly gaining weight again.

I came back to FA with my tail between my legs. I knew I was where I needed to be. I suffered many relapses. Every time I was afraid of something, I wanted to say “f— everything” and run.

Suddenly, I wanted something different. I wanted to face everything and recover. Now I am working an AWOL and doing service. This is the most time abstinent I have had in almost eight years. I know that even with everything down, I am not cured. I am just one bite away from a binge. But I am told it gets easier as time goes on. One day at a time, I ask God for help. I thank God for all of my beautiful blessings and I work my tools. I am free from my obsession with drugs, alcohol, and people. I live debt free today after settling a $75,000 debt. I get a little further from the food each and every day I stay abstinent.

I took a year off from dating, and at the end of that year, a beautiful man appeared out of nowhere, as if sent directly from God, and swept me off my feet! This has been the best year of my life. I just married him—my best friend and the love of my life. I wake up every morning in awe that this beautiful man wanted me to be his wife and the stepmother of his children. Whose life is this? I am so full of hope for the future, as long as I stay abstinent, work my program, and walk with my higher power.