I was about to board a flight for my first trip to Europe in 37 years. Two years earlier, I had reconnected with some of my best college friends at a 35th reunion. They lived in Europe and I had spent much of my adult life in South America, so we had lost touch during the childrearing years. For the reunion, I was at my top weight, and it had taken me months of soul-searching to build up the courage to present myself. Fortunately, I overcame my fear and isolation for the event, and we were all excited to pick up where we had left off. After the reunion, I found FA, and now, I was almost at my goal weight, having shed 100 pounds. There was no chafing, no struggling to fit into the plane seats, no gasping for breath. The miracle was real, but I was terrified of... Continue Reading
I came into FA at age 34. I was fat and miserable. I was 19 weeks pregnant with my third child, weighed over 170 pounds (at 4’ 11”), on Jenny Craig, and exercising any chance I could get. My weight climbed every month, and by the end of my pregnancy, I had gained over 52 pounds. I hated myself for getting so fat, but no matter how hard I tried, I could not stop eating (mainly flour and sugar). The more I ate, the more I craved. I ate for two, and was a very proud, fat, pregnant woman. I had to wear a brace because my back and hip were so bad. I had horrible indigestion and heartburn and would often have my head over the toilet bowl attempting to alleviate the discomfort. I was induced 10 days early because I was retaining fluid and was in a lot... Continue Reading
Over the telephone, the nurse said to me, “Your husband does not want the breathing mask or the feeding tube.” I rushed to the hospital to be by Roger’s side. As we held hands, I asked him if he was at peace with his decision. Roger nodded and whispered, “Yes,” as he had lost his voice. Needing to give my beloved husband peace of mind. I said in a loving voice, “I understand and accept your decision.” His shoulders relaxed. Then I had to ask him where he wanted his ashes to go and if he wanted a funeral. The hardest thing I ever had to do in life. We continued to hold hands as the love of my life whispered, “Kiss.” We had two touching kisses granted by God. Then a peaceful look spread across Roger’s face. The nurse came in and gave him pain and sleep medication. He... Continue Reading
When I try to calculate the amount of weight I have gained and lost from age thirteen to forty-nine, it doesn’t make any sense. I want to believe the amnesia of this disease has made me miscalculate. But the truth is that I have swung between fifteen to fifty pounds every two to five months for the past thirty-six years. The most conservative estimate I can calculate is 1200 pounds of weight variation. The clothes sizes filling my closet were from 6 to 14, which meant I did not stand out as extremely heavy very often. My disease was beating me up less obviously, but not less viciously. I was a slave to progressive binging. I tried to control my disease with extreme restricting over and over and over again. I could not gather myself up to restrict again. The only hope I clung to for thirty-five years was that... Continue Reading
On my sponsee’s third day in program, he said, “I’m starting to have thoughts like, this is stupid. This is never going to work. This is too much work and it’s too hard.” I could identify with him. It took me a long time in recovery to learn that the voices in my head were not the “real me.” I was embarrassed to tell anyone about the thoughts in my head. Before I joined FA, my thoughts would tell me, you are a wimp. You ran three miles yesterday, so run three miles today! You don’t deserve to eat. You will never be good enough. If you make any mistake, cover it up. These voices were what ultimately led me to bulimia and chronic dieting. I wanted to eat what I wanted, but I didn’t want the food to show up on my body. I thought that if people knew... Continue Reading
