Recently I left a job after 23 years and ventured onto a totally new path. Although I knew it was time for a change, I was going into unknown territory. I left a small office setting and went to a company that employs thousands. I went from doing a job I knew inside and out to a job that required extensive training from the ground up. I don’t handle change well and I was scared. The new position turned out to be a job I felt I was not well suited for, and I struggled in the training classes. I wanted to quit and run, which had always been my way of handling things. However, instead of resorting to my old behavior, I asked for help and was given three simple and helpful suggestions from FA members: 1) show up, 2) be honest, and 3) ask for help. So I... Continue Reading
Recently I was reminded of that passage from the Big Book that talks about how we so desperately try to re-create the “good feelings” alcohol used to bring us, but every time we took another “first drink,” it was the first step on a trip to hell. (Of course, I am rather doubtful about the accuracy of those pleasurable memories, in the first place!) I don’t know what is right for anyone else, I just know that for me, every time I have a food thought like that (Oh, the good old times…), I really need to think it through to the end; to what comes after the good feelings of the first couple of bites. I just know that for me (please God!!), the research and endless, doomed search for those “good feelings” is over. For me, to eat is to be completely cut off from God, my fellow... Continue Reading
My father was a pastor of a small church in a marina village in southwestern Ontario. Mom was an excellent cook and baker. There was a two-course breakfast every morning and dessert after every lunch and supper, often with a flour and sugar snack in the evenings, as my parents entertained church congregants and visiting missionaries. We moved to various small towns in Ontario every three years. Food was a large part of both home and church life. My dad didn’t make a lot of money. Congregants left baskets of fresh garden produce and other assorted treats on our steps. Many church meetings and events were accompanied by home-baked goodies. I would sneak sips of the communion beverage out of the bottle in the refrigerator when my parents went out and scour the cupboards and refrigerator whenever I was left on my own. When I reached babysitting age, I learned... Continue Reading
The slogan, “Don’t eat no matter what, no matter what, don’t eat” completely baffled me when I first came into FA, because I ate over everything. It was my go-to solution for all things in my life, good and bad. If my mind was racing at night and I couldn’t sleep, I ate to numb out. When something good happened, I celebrated with food. If something bad happened, I needed to soothe myself with food. If I procrastinated on a work project and faced a deadline, the food would help me tackle it. If a friend didn’t say hello to me and I thought she must be mad at me, I needed to eat. It didn’t matter if it was a big issue or small, the bottom line was that my answer was food. This meant that I was a 30-year-old woman with food hidden in my dresser drawers, stashed... Continue Reading
Shortly after joining FA, I signed up for an AWOL, a meeting where we study the Twelve Steps. It didn’t take long for me to get stuck on the first step, where we admit that we are powerless over food and that our lives are unmanageable. People talked about how they had discovered they were food addicts. I was never quite comfortable saying, “Hi. I’m a food addict.” I was a professional and to me, addiction was for the homeless and the down and outs. I was not sure that addiction was my problem. I thought addiction was something that only alcoholics and drug users are subject to. In the AWOL, I heard one woman share that the “addict in her” was a voice in her head that was totally self-defeating. It wanted her dead. It said things like, Why not enjoy yourself now while you still can. Don’t think... Continue Reading
