A Story of Recovery:

Trying To Fix What Isn’t Broke

I began life outside the womb in an incubator, March of 1940.  Within my first few years, I was diagnosed with asthma and then with a myriad of food allergies, some of which I still have today.  Some of those foods were exactly the ones I wanted because they were the favorites of most kids and thus became my “forbidden fruits.”  So what did I do when I was denied what I wanted?  I learned to be sneaky—to hide food, eat in the cellar, steal change (and later dollar bills) from my mother’s purse to get my stashes of food.  I ate from the leftover dishes in the living room the morning after a party and raided the refrigerator while my parents slept.

My mother couldn’t figure out why I was getting sick so much, but it was because I’d eat until I couldn’t breathe.  My body changed from a frail three-year-old, to a chubby five-year-old, to the second-biggest girl in my grade.  The food had me, and the kicker was that I was finally getting attention at home, even if it resulted in regular doctors’ visits and shots.  The food was making me sick, but I could not stop.  There was a little candy store across the street from my elementary school, and  I would stop there at lunchtime and after school with the stolen coins from Mom’s purse or from the fancy little dish that held her keys and extra change.  My best friend was the only one who knew my secret, and she never told anyone about it.

This behavior followed me throughout school and into college.  I did lose enough weight to fit into a size 8 wedding dress, but got very sick from doing it. I went on the Mayo diet, consisting of only grapefruit, tomatoes and steak. This created so much acid that I developed painful ulcers in my mouth, but I fit into that wedding dress. However, on my honeymoon, I started eating again, totally out of control. Three months later, I was eating for two (as they tell you to do when you’re pregnant.)

I spent much of my adult life trying many weight-loss programs, searching for a way to navigate through life, but as soon as I uncovered feelings that I didn’t know how to handle, I would dive back into the food.  I did this over and over again. I even sought medical help from a diet doctor who kept upping my thyroid medication until I was climbing the walls.

When I came into FA, it seemed as though I had finally come across a Twelve Step program that dealt with serious, unhealthy eating behaviors and showed results.  It was a program that held me accountable for my own well-being. I began to understand that structure and discipline—the two things with which I was least familiar and usually avoided—were embedded in the tools and spiritual aspects of the program.

I got a sponsor before leaving that first meeting, and started working the program to the best of my ability.  My weight coming in was 178 pounds—no higher because of my asthma. I ate until I couldn’t breathe.  I met my goal weight of 125 within about nine months, maintained that weight, did service when asked, and completed an AWOL.  After several years of taking suggestions and following the food plan I was given, I started looking around for something different.  I wasn’t sure the food plan was right for me because I was getting stomach aches after dinner every night.

Some people I knew were into a raw food diet, and I decided that this was going to be the new savior in my life.  I told myself I had gone as far as I could in FA and now I was ready for a really healthy food plan.  After taking private classes with a raw food chef, attending gatherings and potlucks with other raw food enthusiasts, and even celebrating my birthday at a raw food institute, I became very sick; the raw foods were apparently tearing up my digestive system.  I was miserable, sick, alone.  But I was not going back to FA—never, I said.  It was my ego, I suppose.  For five years, the pride and shame I felt while gaining back all my weight kept me from walking back to the only solution to my insane eating I had ever known.

Not until the pain got so great did I finally ask myself the question, “Is this it?  Is this how I want to live for whatever time I have left?”  I was over 70.  How much more time was there?  The misery and depression gave me the willingness to walk back into the FA rooms.

It has been two-and-a-half years since I returned to FA after my five-year leave of absence.  This time, I am developing faith, and learning to trust and believe in a higher power that was missing for me all of my life.  In my life, there was no G-d. I was too arrogant, judgmental and self-centered to think that I needed a G-d.  I thought people who depended on G-d were weak and ignorant.  Now, however, I feel like I have tapped into a secret world where G-d carries me. Each day, I continue to ask for help and try to align my will with G-d’s will.

With this recovery, not only have I surrendered all the pounds, including the bonus pounds I added during my time in the food wilderness, I am coming to trust my Higher Power to take the reins in all areas of my life.  I also see how G-d has been there throughout my life—I just didn’t want to recognize that fact.  I have come trust my sponsor to guide me, I enjoy having an awesome fellowship, and I show up in my life and the lives of others.  One day at a time, I use the gifts I’ve been given to help the next sick and suffering food addict.  This I do with love and with pleasure.