A Story of Recovery:

Right Direction

Doctors had told me during my adolescence that if I just got to 180 pounds I would be okay. Two years ago I went to the doctor, hoping that she could set me straight and help me lose some weight. I was usually between 190 and 210 pounds. On the doctor’s scale that day, I weighed in at 230.

Fortunately for me, my doctor wasn’t interested in being my personal trainer or dietician as I had hoped. Instead, she told me about FA. I was angry, sad, and scared when she told me that my weight was a result of my eating, but when she told me about FA, I felt genuine hope, maybe for the first time. I couldn’t wait to get to the meeting the next morning.

I went to the meeting and cried as every person spoke about a different part of my disease. I was worried about picking the wrong sponsor, so I didn’t get one that day. For a week I tried to do Program on my own, but I wanted so desperately to get started. I awkwardly asked a woman if she would sponsor me at the end of that week. She gave me my food plan and told me to buy a scale and call her—the next morning. From the beginning, Program felt comfortable. It was not easy, but it felt right. It was okay to not know things—I was learning a totally new way of life, after all. It was okay to rest. In fact, it was suggested. For the first time, I felt safe, understood, and that I could trust someone and relax.

In my first 90 days, I was still in the habit of seeking other peoples’ opinions. (With the help of my sponsor and God, those opinions mean less to me today.) I asked my boyfriend at the time what he thought of my being in FA. He told me honestly that he thought it was drastic and that I could lick the weight problem on my own. Even he, who saw me eating at my worst and who routinely had to comfort me during long sobs about how “something just wasn’t right,” couldn’t see that I was suffering from a disease beyond my control. He did not know that my food problem was a symptom of my life problem, called “addiction.”

I spoke from my heart and told him that this program was not a choice for me and that without it I would be dead. I knew I needed FA to save my life, but I did not realize that weighing and measuring my food would give me a new life and a new outlook. I told him that I was about to embark upon what I felt would be the most difficult and important passage of my life. I said plainly that I’d rather do it with him, my best friend, but if he was unwilling to support me, I would do it alone. I never heard him question Program again.

I weighed and measured my food, did my tools, and learned to get on my knees and pray to a God that I wasn’t even sure existed. I did all of this in front of him and others. I risked looking crazy, because crazy is better than dead. I put this program first, to the best of my ability, because of the hope I felt. In my first 90 days in FA, I survived a move, a business trip, Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas, all while weighing and measuring my food.

My co-workers, my friends, and my family started to see me change. They didn’t always think it was for the better, but I trusted my sponsor and fellows when they said that it was all going to be fine. I felt in my heart that I was going in the right direction.

I have been walking in this direction for almost two years, and it is wonderful. I feel that I am learning how to live and enjoy life. Though I was blessed to feel at home in this program from the beginning, it has not always been easy. I still feel resistance when challenged to change my ways, but I am learning to take suggestions from my sponsor and fellows. When I see that things always work out when I take suggestions, my faith in God and in FA grows. Every time I do God’s will by weighing and measuring my food and being of service, even when I don’t feel willing, it gets easier—it really does.