A Story of Recovery:

I Have What I Want

Ten years ago, I bought a car, resigned from my job, packed up my most important belongings, and headed west. After seven years of living in Philadelphia, I was ready for a change. Mostly, I was just tired of being overweight. I wanted to get away, and I hoped to find a fresh (thin) start somewhere new. Without a job, without a clear destination, and without very much money, I said goodbye to my family, popped my favorite CD into the car stereo, and started driving.

Two months later, after a 10,000 mile cross-country adventure, I landed in San Francisco and wound up staying. Although I did not have a conscious or deliberate relationship with God at the time, I can see now that God was with me all along. Despite my lack of planning, I found both a place to live and a job right away, and thus my roots were transplanted in beautiful Northern California.

One of the very first things I did when I moved into my new house was weigh myself. I was horrified that I weighed 162 pounds. At 5”1,” I was about 50 pounds overweight and so uncomfortable in my body. My dream of starting my new life in a new place in a new body was not happening. I immediately went on a “detox” diet with one of my new housemates and lost 10 pounds. I spent the next three years losing and gaining the next five pounds dozens of times.

When I left the East Coast, I thought I was getting away from my crazy family, my stressful job, and an angry city. Now I can see that I was really trying to run away from myself. I was a food addict and didn’t know it.  Much to my dismay, my disease came with me. It gained speed and got stronger with every mile.

Once I landed in the Bay Area, I started working as a nurse in a 24-hour emergency animal hospital and worked all sorts of crazy hours. Overnights, weekends, and holidays were the norm for me. This unconventional work schedule provided a perfect excuse to isolate from my housemates and rationalize not having a social life.

I did not have a consistent routine and therefore it was impossible to maintain a consistent diet. I tried Weight Watchers several times, but could never lose a significant amount of weight and keep it off. I could sometimes temporarily restrict what I ate, but would eventually wind up bingeing on the foods that I had denied myself during the periods of restriction.

I used food to cope with most life situations. I used food as a reward after a long stressful shift at work, as a companion, and for comfort when I was lonely on a Saturday night. Other times, I used food to punish myself when I could not fit into a pair of jeans. I used food to keep myself awake when I was dead tired and to put myself to sleep when I was all revved up. Food was my go-to drug.

At the time, I was completely oblivious to the fact that I had a problem with food. I thought I had a weight problem. It was not until I walked into my first FA meeting that I realized I was a food addict. I was so relieved to hear other people talk about their obsessions with losing weight, hating their bodies, and their inability to stop eating once they started. The light bulb went on. I was a food addict. That realization occurred almost seven years ago. It has been a wild ride ever since.

I could write hundreds of stories about my recovery and the ups and downs and ins and outs of daily living through both abstinence and relapse. It is with God’s grace that I have been able to maintain a 50-pound weight loss for the last four years.

But today I find myself smack dab in the middle of a spiritual quandary. I have a very strong desire to move back to the East Coast to be closer to that “crazy” family that I so willingly moved 3000 miles away from ten years ago. I’ve been at the same job for almost ten years, and although my job has evolved into a much more manageable position, I want a change. My heart is telling me that it is time to make a reverse pilgrimage back to Pennsylvania.

I fantasize about resigning from my job, selling my belongings, shipping my cats off ahead of me, and packing up my car and driving east. I’m ready for a new adventure. But there’s a snag. I’m on Step Two of my AWOL, and my sponsor is encouraging me to keep my commitment to the Twelve Steps and to finish this AWOL. This has not been an easy suggestion to digest, especially for an impulsive, impatient, and strong-willed food addict.

I don’t know what is going to happen. This story will have to end with a “to be continued.” What I do know is that, for today, I am praying for the willingness to be open-minded. It is so uncomfortable to really, really want something, and instead of plunging head first into action, to pause, put my recovery first, and trust God.

I am realizing that it is only because of the work I have done in previous AWOLS that I am able to recognize the love I have for my family and the desire to be around them.  The truth is, I have a wonderful life exactly where I am. I am surrounded by recovery, immersed in a rich FA fellowship, I have a sponsor who I get to see on a weekly basis, and a playground as far as the eye can see of beautiful mountains, ocean waves, and urban treasures. I have a job. It’s not perfect, but I have a job. I am able to financially support myself in one of the most expensive places to live in the world.

My desire to be closer to family is still very strong, so I am going to ask my employer for additional paid vacation time, which would enable me to make more trips “home” throughout the year. God is giving me the courage to change the things I can. Taking my sponsor’s suggestions isn’t always easy, and I don’t always feel very willing right away, but I do know that I am growing through this process of surrender. I know I will be okay, no matter what.

My “for-sure” plan is to keep weighing and measuring my food and trusting God. I get to choose faith instead of fear. Today I am realizing that the life I have may just be the life I really want. What a gift.