A Story of Recovery:
Let There Be Peace on Earth
It wasn’t exactly peace on earth in my childhood home, except by outward appearances. As an intact, middle-class family with three children, we lived in a colonial home on a countrified road and went to church together every Sunday. That was also our special breakfast treat day; how we all loved that! When I moved there at age three, I kept begging to “go home” to our little ranch in the suburbs. I was wishing then that we had never moved, and even more so as time passed. Yet, I may never have found my way to God and FA if we hadn’t.
As a child, fear ruled my little heart. Most of the time, my parents loved me unconditionally, especially my beloved Daddy. My two older brothers loved their chubby, curly-haired, “baby doll” little sister. But, my mom has some sort of mental disorder. It has never been diagnosed, and she has been able to function as a normal adult. Both of my parents appeared to have some sort of a problem with food. Whether gene-related or environmental, my brothers and I have all had our own share of problems with alcohol, food, and sometimes rage, like my mom.
The food problems my parents had showed physically, spiritually, and emotionally. They attended church regularly, served on all sorts of committees, and my mom sang like an angel in the choir. My dad’s world-renowned desserts were the hit of the many church suppers. I don’t know why my mom was so prone to rages, or where she went in them as she ran around the house screaming and stuffing food in her mouth. I just know I was absolutely terrified of her, while at the same time loving her. Illogical, unpredictable events occurred almost daily, and involved her seething through clenched teeth, “Stupid, stupid, little girl!” I knew then that I was bad, and stupid, and naughty, and that God was punishing me. I tried so hard to be a good little girl, but I never could measure up to her expectations.
Why my adoring Daddy put up with the way she treated our family, is hard for me to comprehend. She used to call him names, spit in his face, and use all sorts of foul language against him. My brothers got more physical abuse than I did. She only spanked me, though once she slapped me in the face. She bludgeoned my brothers with wooden spoons, while screaming threats to send them away. Meanwhile they laughed at her and ran away. Because she was so heavy, she couldn’t catch them. She caught me with her words, and I cried and cried and cried some more.
I started praying to God fervently at age three, after we moved and my parents hired the male babysitter who sexually abused me. He was a strikingly handsome, gregarious teenager from a good family who had a natural way with younger children, which made him, by all appearances, the perfect hire. My parents loved to go on the town every weekend to party with their rich friends at fancy restaurants. They didn’t know that every night, late when the boys were asleep, the babysitter would come get me and take me downstairs for our secret time together.
Now I really knew how awful and dirty a girl I was, and that God was punishing me. I didn’t share our secret for years, and my Daddy never found out while he was here on earth. Luckily, this abuse didn’t last long because my parents came home early one night and discovered the babysitter and my brothers engaging in a wild game of “alligator,” which involved jumping and leaping around our beautiful, new living room. On the couch I sat, whimpering and terrified, yet relieved when my mom started screaming, “Get out, get out, you’re fired!” My brothers were devastated to lose this cool kid. I thanked God!
Unfortunately, the babysitter lived next door and my parents never thought it strange that a 16-year-old wanted to play with their sons. He sexually abused my eldest brother, but spared my strong-willed middle brother. In turn, my eldest brother abused me from age five to 13, when I finally threatened to tell. He stopped, but I never really got much help from the counselors I saw afterwards. I hid my emotions behind food, functioning as a successful adult, when deep down I was hurting, always praying to God and seeking help.
But I never listened much to God, or anyone, until God helped me to find FA at age 51. Now, 19 months later with 90 pounds (41 kg) released, I have found a more peaceful home with God as my higher power and with the FA fellowship to support me.
That brings me to a recent New Year’s Eve, my second one celebrated in abstinence. I waived aside my traditional celebration to spend it with my mom in a retirement home. Besides, I needed to start new traditions now that I left my not-so-peaceful marital home. My mom has been lonely over the past 24 years, since my Dad died at age 60 from obesity-related illnesses. He had his first heart attack at age 51, which is the same age I had been when I had pleaded with God for a solution and he led me to FA.
That’s how I came to find myself walking into a room with a gaggle of ladies and men swaying, sleeping, and sometimes snoring, as a singer crooned tunes from the 1940’s. Splat! In the middle sat an adorable, chubby lady, who was very discontented and grumbling, “This lady doesn’t even know what we like!” Of course, that was my beloved mommy. Seated next to her was my eldest brother, who had surprised us by braving a winter storm up north in order to make one of his infamous, infrequent visits.
After the music and games, around 9 pm, we joined in a chorus of Auld Lang Syne while a fake, glittery ball came slowly traveling down from the ceiling. My mom, who became considerably more content after winning some food prizes, loves to sing and especially loves to be the center of attention. She started to belt out the old hippie song, “Let there be peace on earth.” I chimed in first, then my brother, and soon the other people joined in a heavenly chorus, “Let there be peace on Earth…let me walk with my brother, in peace and harmony.”
This event is nothing short of a miracle‒me sitting amongst my mother and brother, forgiving them, and letting go of the past and my resentments, all because of what I have learned in FA. FA has brought me a new way of living, abstinent not just from flour and sugar, but from fear, doubt, and insecurity. FA is my new peaceful home. I discovered a new peaceful way of living by trusting in God, leaning on the fellowship, and being abstinent one day at a time. For all of this, I am eternally grateful. “Let there be peace on Earth and let it begin with me.”