A Story of Recovery:

Unexpected Gifts

Ten years ago, I arrived at college weighing 200 pounds. I didn’t fit in, and my solution was to lose weight. I lost 65 pounds and began a career as a personal trainer. What I didn’t know was that my battle with food addiction was just beginning.

Last year, I hit rock bottom when I had the most massive binge of my life. I ate so much in a movie theater that I couldn’t stand up. I got into the car, reclined the seat, and thought, “I can’t wait for this food to go down so that I can have some more.”

When I got home, I ordered two books. One was about food addiction. That was a year ago. Today I am working FA, have weighed 120 pounds since March, and wear a size 0 pants.

The thin body is great. But the real recovery has been in my reaction to life. Before Program, I didn’t answer my phone, didn’t pay my bills, and didn’t answer my door. I didn’t believe in God, my house was a mess, and I never wore jewelry or took care of myself.

All of that has changed, and I’ll tell you a story that explains just how it has changed and how God is working in my life today:

For years I didn’t speak with my father. He was an alcoholic who physically abused my mother. The last time I spoke with him before Program, I hung up on him because he asked me for money. He was a dry drunk. He wasn’t drinking, but he was not working a program, and I was full of self-pity and resentment.

One day I was at a meeting, and a woman got up and shared that when she was in her disease, she never answered the doorbell. She would pretend she wasn’t home. I identified with that.

When I got home from the meeting, my doorbell rang. I didn’t answer it. It rang two more times and I didn’t answer it. I thought it might be a family member, and I just couldn’t deal with it. When I got outside, there was a note in my mailbox that said, “I stopped by. We need to talk. Very important. Call me. Love, Dad.” I couldn’t answer my door, but I could definitely make a phone call! I called him and we talked.

Later the next week, my doorbell rang again. This time I answered it and it was my father. He came in and sat down and we talked some more. He apologized for wrongs done and I accepted his apology and told him that I forgave him and that I loved him. I apologized for not answering his calls for all those years. I gave him the phone numbers for my brother, sister, and mother.

That was a week ago. Two days ago, my father died suddenly of a heart attack.

The news was shocking. I am grieving—abstinently.

I was his next of kin and am the one who has to organize a memorial. I am doing the next thing in front of me, gratefully. I am happy that I am thin. I am happy that slowly my obsession with food is being lifted.

But none of that compares to the gratitude I have in my heart for FA and for God for the gifts he gave me. I had the opportunity to say goodbye to my father and to serve him and my family by being able to pick up the phone and call a funeral parlor. I was able to lend an ear to my family, who did not get to connect with him in the end. And I was able to show up and serve others selflessly.

And it’s all because I put my food on the scale three times a day and get on my knees and ask God for help.