A Story of Recovery:
Degree of Hope
On my drive home from college after graduation, I felt full of self-loathing, disappointment, and despair. The drive took longer than usual because I had to pull over a few times to get my sobbing under control. My despair was overwhelming and the only thing that could relieve it was food, so I stopped several times at fast food drive-thrus. I couldn’t really connect that food might be the cause of my despair. I read in the Big Book recently something that sums up my attitude at the time: “To my way of thinking, booze (and in my case, food) had been the answer to my problems – not the problem itself.”
I had thought a college degree would transform me into the happy person I so desperately wanted to be, and there I was, feeling the same old misery and disappointment in myself that I had carried for as long as I could remember. College was just one of many attempts to reach for something external as a way to soothe my everlasting internal discomfort and self-loathing.
I had started college with lots of hope. “This is where I’ll really thrive as a student,” I thought. “This is where I’ll be thin and happy and have growing experiences. I’ll make a difference here, be successful, everybody will love me, and I’ll conquer my fears.” I couldn’t have told you at the time what I was seeking, but now with my abstinent, clear mind, I see that what I wanted was peace and relief.
I did have many growing experiences in college, but I never found the peace I so desperately sought. I joined a musical theatre group, but my fear kept me from auditioning for the numbers I wanted to be in. As with many of my other commitments, I showed up consistently at first, but eventually missed many rehearsals so I could stay home, hide, and eat. I thought I was a coward and hated myself for hiding.
I also joined a sorority, studied abroad, tried intramural sports, dated different types of men, did an internship, started therapy, and worked a part-time job. These experiences brought wonderful people and exciting challenges into my life, but didn’t transform me into the person I wanted to be. They didn’t put me in a right-size body, free me from my obsession with food or my body image, or give me long-term release from my misery.
It seemed hopeless. If none of the college opportunities had given me the transformation I sought, what would? I spent much of the summer working with a personal trainer and therapist, hoping that might do the trick. I told myself that I wasn’t a college kid anymore and I really had to start being a responsible adult who eats right. I thought that this time it had to work, but it didn’t. I gained muscle, but kept eating, and my obsession wasn’t lifted.
That Fall I moved to Cape Cod, MA and learned about FA through my therapist. God brought me to my first meeting, where I had my first taste of hope. I wasn’t ready to get abstinent for almost two years, but the seed was planted and came to mind when I was finally desperate enough to take an action and dive into FA headfirst.
Today I am becoming the person I tried to find in college, simply because I take the actions suggested by my sponsor. I’m told happiness is a byproduct of doing the right thing, and now when I do the right thing, I have peace. I show up for my commitments and choose not to let fear govern my life. I don’t know if everyone loves me—my sponsor says it’s none of my business what others think of me— but I have genuine relationships I could never have when I was hiding in food. I get freedom from obsession with food and my weight. How cool to come into FA and have the weight just melt off without having to kill myself at the gym! Best of all, I am finding that transformation I sought in college by working my FA program, one day at a time.