A Story of Recovery:
My Decision to Leave
I came into FA at the age of 26, weighing 289 pounds (131 kg). I found out about the program one day when I picked up a pamphlet to fan myself while sitting in my chiropractor’s waiting room. Less than a week later, I was at my first meeting and got a sponsor, and within 14 months, I lost 140 pounds. I wish I could say, “…and the rest is history,” but that’s not how my journey played out.
FA had always been very good to me, helping me to shed the weight, showering me with love and support from some amazing fellows, and giving me a sense of purpose in reaching those still suffering with food addiction. I had been in FA for nine and a half years when I decided to step out of the rooms. For some reason, I truly thought maybe I didn’t need it anymore. My main reason, or excuse, as I should really call it, is that my life had changed so much in those years‒I got married, gained two stepsons, changed careers, moved numerous times, etc. I had grown up and learned so much from FA that, surely, I would NEVER let myself go back to where I had been. I remember telling myself that I will never know if I can do this on my own unless I try it.
One of my most important memories about the days leading up to my exit was that I no longer had an attitude of gratitude. I remember specifically telling people I wasn’t in FA because I desired recovery, but because I feared being fat. I was complaining about almost everything. I was complacent, and nothing was exciting anymore. While I didn’t think it then, my disease was gaining strength and getting more powerful while my reliance on, and surrender to, my Higher Power was weaker than ever.
What It Was Like “Out There”
I’m so glad that I journaled a bit during this time because it’s very telling about my intentions versus my reality. On day one after making my decision to leave, I wrote that I was scared, but planned to still commit my food and eat the usual portions. (I now find that laughable knowing myself as I do.) Then I made a list of what I thought I’d gain versus what I’d lose by leaving FA. The list of what I thought I would gain can be summarized by the following: time back to myself, less resentment towards my husband about how he eats, flexibility around food, and fewer rules to follow.
The list of what I thought I’d lose was limited to three things‒things that I now realize are the biggest blessing I could possibly be gifted with when it comes to my disease: (1) My fellows and the friendships and support I had, (2) food neutrality, and (3) a simple structure to follow when it comes to my food and my life. Fast forward one week, the next entry was the day after Thanksgiving, when I chronicled what I ate. This included highlighting those items I felt guilty about eating. I noted that I ate a little obsessively and that I didn’t have much peace around my decision regarding desserts. I know, a shocking revelation for a flour and sugar addict! Then two weeks later, my writing was about how uncomfortable I felt, both physically and mentally, after eating out. I had eaten everything that was served to me, which was more than anyone else at the table, which included grown men! I wrote that my thoughts told me it was “just this once” and “my first time doing this since leaving.” Both great excuses, right? Later that same night I had eaten three stolen sugar and flour items that were leftover from a catered party, to which I was not an invited guest. I then mentioned that the next day I’d be going to the gym and doing an hour of cardio‒like it or not!
My last entry was over three months later and was a list of 28 things I was experiencing under the title, “Four months out of FA and 30 pounds heavier.” It included things like my clothes and wedding ring not fitting, being out of breath, no longer feeling attractive, having major swelling, hating getting dressed or having pictures taken, not wanting to be seen by people who know me, and obsessing over my food and weight all the time. I even mentioned how bad my skin had gotten, how I hated looking at myself in the mirror, that my thighs were rubbing together again and I was having night sweats, and how putting on my yoga pants was now like slipping into a pair of tight pantyhose. I was working out to earn my food, stealing candy from my kids, and eating a lot in secret. I don’t remember thinking this at the time I wrote it, but this should have sounded just like the list of reasons I came looking for FA all those years ago. My misery was fully returned to me. The crux of the disease hadn’t changed‒except that it was stronger and more powerful than before.
It’s important that I mention everything I did in those six months to try to control my food and my weight‒you know, all those easier, softer ways they mention in our meetings. I wasn’t joyfully eating while I was out of the rooms. Sure, I was lit up momentarily by certain foods, but it didn’t last and only brought me pain. I’ve heard that there is nothing worse than a head full of FA and a belly full of food, and now I know that to be true. I tried making myself throw up, eating food out of smaller containers in an attempt to control portion sizes, keeping my mouth busy with gum (which soon became a pack a day habit accompanied by jaw pain), seeing psychologists who recommended “mindful eating” (yes, because that’s great advice for an addict!), counting calories using an app on my phone, swearing off certain trigger foods, following a detox food plan, attending online 12 Step meetings, and working out multiple times a day‒even hiring a trainer. I wasn’t successful at any of these. Not even for a day!
My Journey Back
Lucky for me, in those six months that I was out, I didn’t completely disconnect from the program. I was still in occasional contact with some of my fellows. I’m so fortunate that they took my calls because all I remember doing was complaining about how hard it was and crying over how much weight I had gained, while saying that I just wasn’t ready to come back. Everyone just listened. Thankfully, no one tried to pressure me into anything, which was exactly what I needed. When the pain was great enough and my weight high enough, I came back on my own. I wish I could say I felt ready then, but I didn’t. I just knew that to continue as I was doing would mean a slow deterioration of who I am physically, mentally, and spiritually. I knew there was a solution and the only thing standing between me and health was my willingness. I don’t remember going back to my first meeting, but when I got there, I was greeted by the warmest smiles and hugs. No one made me feel anything but welcome. I’ve since lost the 40 pounds I put on in those six months. I owe it all to my Higher Power because I can’t do this on my own. I know, because I tried it!