A Story of Recovery:

Joy and Sorrow

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 wanted to spend as much time as he could with me. He tried to stay awake, but was getting very sleepy. I gently said, “Go ahead, allow yourself to fall asleep.” He nodded and smiled. We held onto each other by holding hands; neither one of us wanted to let go. Time stopped, and this tender moment gave us some comfort. In our hearts, we simply wanted to be together and nothing else mattered. After his last breath and his body had expired, I saw the look of peace on his face. His suffering and pain had ended. I fingered the words on my wedding band – a ma vie de coer entier. You have my whole heart for your entire life.

I plundered into the abyss of grief. My beloved husband was always concerned about my weight and never criticized me about it. He would say, “I don’t want to lose you.” There were many diets over my 27 years of marriage.

To fill the void of loss and to soften the pain of deep sorrow, it would be easy to justify eating out of control to comfort myself. But to honor my husband, I decided to lose weight. This decision gave me a reason to live.

A friend of mine invited me to come to a food meeting. She didn’t explain anything. She said I didn’t need to do anything. She also thought I might like to be around other people for a while.

I agreed. I was surprised to learn that the program followed the Twelve Steps of Alcoholics Anonymous. I was already familiar with that program, as my husband started an A.A. meeting in town that we consistently attended.

That night at the food meeting, I also learned it was about food addiction. I was puzzled as to why nobody mentioned food when they spoke. In the literature that was read, I remember hearing the suggestion to come to several meetings to understand what this was all about. So I did.

I learned that ultimately everyone at the meeting was dealing with the human condition and that often we eat as a way of dealing with emotions. I began to wonder – was I a food addict? No, not me, I told myself that I was not one of those people; I wasn’t eating out of garbage cans. Surely, I thought, on my own will power, I could stop after one bite. So what if I had a few extra pounds on me. My parents were overweight. It is my DNA.

Then it dawned on me that this is a spiritual program, a way to manage food and life. The program is not just about food, but is equally about weighing and measuring one’s life. I realized my previous thoughts were rationalizations and not reality. The program provided a chance for me to lose weight and keep it off.

To lose the weight and to keep off those extra pesky pounds, I knew it had to be a permanent lifestyle change, because diets don’t work. I kept wondering week after week how these people managed to stay average size without ever talking about food. It was a mystery. Then the secret was revealed. A sponsor gave me the food plan.

Now I had the golden key, the food plan. I was skeptical at first. Would this really work? Would I be hungry between meals? What do you mean, you don’t eat between meals! And they said I only had to weigh myself at the beginning of the month.

I weighed and measured my food. I gave my sponsor my menu every day. That first month rolled by and I lost 15 pounds without starving between meals. I was thrilled. It was a bittersweet moment, as joy and sorrow are inseparable. I was elated I had lost weight, but deeply saddened by the fact my husband was not physically by my side to celebrate this weight-loss success.

Much to my surprise, I realized I was not thinking about food anymore. The food plan is simple. I no longer found grocery shopping to be a chore. I didn’t need to go down every isle in the store anymore.

Another month went by, and although I was walking through grieving the loss of my husband, I was not eating over it. I have made new friends, who are my anchors to ground me in this new way of being after the most profound loss in my life and a history of addictive eating.

It’s been 10 months since my husband passed away, and I have survived my birthday, our wedding anniversary, Memorial Day, Independence Day, and his birthday without using food to deal with these emotions. As a result of following the program, I have lost 50 pounds.

There is, however, more I need to do to stay grounded in the program. The disease is cunning, baffling and powerful. With the gracious helping hand from a Higher Power, I have a reprieve, one day at a time. I put my trust in God and he helps me with my food program. I pray to him throughout the day to help with living life, and it makes a difference.

I clothe myself in God’s armor as a shield of protection against the path of fear and doubt, which would ultimately lead me back to destructive old food habits. My higher power is my strength and my joy. I can succeed with his gentle guidance.