Stories of Recovery


These stories were originally published in the Connection, FA's monthly magazine written by food addicts, for food addicts. Each post shares a different author's perspective. Visit this page often to read more experience, strength, and hope about recovery in FA. To get the newest issue of Connection Magazine sent directly to your mailbox or inbox, click here to subscribe to the Connection.

Sweet Sorrow

Outside the sunny window of my mother-in-law’s house, I could glimpse the river shining in the sun. Inside, lace curtains graced the windows; a linen cloth covered the table; flowers and candles added to the ambiance of the afternoon and then, the dessert. Gleaming with shiny sugar, embellished with beautiful decorations, it teased me with its promise. The fragrance of fresh coffee filled the air as we prepared to celebrate a family event. I have been in a life-and-death struggle with my weight since I was eight. I grew up in the era of Twiggy and the styles which characterized the “Mod” culture. After all, as everyone knows, “You can never be too thin or too rich,” can you? I ate my miserable way up to nearly 325 pounds (147.4 kilograms), hating myself, judging myself, listening to the voices telling me “You’re fat, therefore you’re ugly; you’re stupid, because you... Continue Reading

 


 

Time Well Spent

FA has helped bring sanity to my food and also to many other areas of my life. Before FA, the decisions that I made around money did a lot of damage to myself and others. I can remember being in possession of a car. It was mine (sort of). But when my addict friends towed it, I did nothing about it. I was too busy bingeing and purging to look into the location of my car. Additionally, the people who towed it were my drug dealers, so I didn’t want to bring up any hard conversations. I wanted them to keep supplying me. I also gave away two laptops. I rarely used them. I was too busy bingeing and purging. Learning how to use a computer didn’t really interest me. It didn’t give me a quick enough ‘hit”. Sometimes, in my active addiction days, I would just give money away.... Continue Reading

 


 

No Escape Plan

About six-and-a-half years into recovery, I started dating a man who turned out to be an alcoholic and had panic attacks at night. Unfortunately I got caught up in trying to be his mentor and help fix his problems. This took me away from looking at myself. The very thing I should have been looking at was the fact that I stopped taking care of my own needs, staying up too late and engaging in the emotional drama of his world. I became overtired and stressed and eventually made a mistake making my dinner one night. Another time, I went to a party and didn’t make any plan for my meal. I had clearly broken my abstinence. What did I do? Thank you God, I realized the severity of how I was hurting myself. This man was not good for me in many ways. I took quiet time and wrote... Continue Reading

 


 

Dream Come True

When I first came to FA, I was skeptical when people went to the podium and shared about how GOD had given them the man of their dreams, the house of their dreams, or the job of their dreams. I didn’t believe that possibilities that had been hidden or out of reach would manifest just because I weighed and measured my food. That has changed over time, as I have seen the blessings God has brought to my life. I was lonely. My children had moved out to start lives of their own, and I lived alone.  I told God that I wanted a dog, a friend. When I asked God for a dog I was specific.  I couldn’t handle a puppy for the obvious reason; my shoe collection. I wanted a dog that was two or three years old, mellow, and chill. The biggest factor to consider was that... Continue Reading

 


 

Key Focus

Focused on digging my car keys out of my oversized bag, I hurried out of the Walgreens toward my white car. But when I pushed the button to remotely open the driver side door, nothing happened. My shoulders slumped. I pushed again. “Batteries must be dead,” I muttered to myself. So I tried the key in the lock. It would not open the door. Now what? I repeated the ritual. Same results. Just as I’d begun again for the third time, a voice from behind made me spin around. “That door is not going to open no matter what you do.” A scowling woman strode toward me. I didn’t like either her tone or her expression. It called up—what? Fear? What had I done wrong? She crossed her arms. “That’s MY car.” Not until that moment had I noticed an exact replica to the car I stood beside parked in... Continue Reading