I had lost almost 135 pounds. Then, sitting at one of my committed FA meetings, I obsessed about food to the point that I entertained the thought of stopping by the local Foster’s Freeze on the way home. I did not, but the next day, I was still struggling with the food obsession, still trying to force the thoughts out of my mind. I did not turn to my higher power and my fellows. Instead, I ran errands on my lunch break and ended up buying a sugar item that opened the door to more flour and sugar items during the rest of the day and into the evening.

As I journaled about it later that night, I realized I have been afraid of what “recovery” would look like. I imagined that recovery would mean taking responsibility for myself.  This would include reaching out for the help I need as often as I need to. It might also mean letting go of the fear of feeling “less than” because I am not able to solve my problems with food addiction on my own, or with the barest minimum of help.

I realized that my fear was overwhelming. Who is the me who would call before taking the bite, as often as she needs to, laying herself open to others in a way she never has before?  That image seemed raw and authentic in a way I have never allowed myself to be before. Allowing myself to be as vulnerable and authentic as this would be the scariest thing I have ever done in my life. As I wrote in my journal, I realized that letting go of the control I’ve hung onto could possibly be the undoing of me.

And as I was journaling, I had a sudden, powerful awareness that it will be the undoing of me—the old me who practiced unhealthy, self-abusive behaviors in order to survive.  The old rigid, isolating, do-it-myself, I-don’t-want-input me.

May that old me rest in peace. May a new, free, healthy me celebrate contented abstinence within the compassionate support of her fellows in FA.