I learned about depression from my mother. I thought it was normal for all mothers to be in bed when their children came home from school. I substituted the companionship of my mother with the contents of the refrigerator. The trusted appliance was the first thing I ran to when I came home from school. No wonder I became depressed when food stopped working. I had lost a trusted “friend” of 40 years.

I was not looking for FA, or even for a diet. I quietly wanted to slip away from the earth. I had such huge apathy toward life. I had decided that if my eating habits led to a heart attack, it would be a welcome way to leave the planet. I felt I had no connection to any part of my life or to the people around me. I also was extremely mad at food, my friend of many years, whom I could always depend on. It was not killing me fast enough, and I could not eat sufficient quantities to keep me numb.

I had very few things I enjoyed. I was still trying hard to look like I was not despondent, putting on my game face every day so my children would never see me sad and adrift in confusion on how to experience life. I was seeing a therapist, but even to her I would not admit I was suicidal. I just kept complaining about not feeling connected. My therapist suggested that I try to get out and socialize by taking an art class. I picked a class on children’s book illustration and writing. I had started a book idea a while ago, before my depression set in. It was about a woodpecker. I thought that if I had a great masterpiece published, my depression would magically fly away. My depression took flight, but my book was nowhere near being published.

The lifting of depression was thanks to an invitation offered to me by my art teacher, who at one of our last art sessions, invited me to go to a meeting with her. I was so focused on the art project that I did not hear that the meeting was food related. I accepted because I was pleased that there was a free meal involved, as my art teacher had a fellowship dinner every week before her meeting. What food addict ever turned down a free meal? I did not even catch on when people were weighing and measuring their food at dinner. I didn’t ask, because I was a closet eater most of my life, so I was concerned to not look like I was taking too much food.  The meeting was strange to me, as I never had been exposed to the Twelve Steps. The message I did carry away from that night was hope.

As I started the program, I found connections to everyone and to every aspect of FA. Connections were made by reading and listening to the stories of hope and strength and through talking to my sponsor and learning how to live life one day at a time. Connections to my health came through weighing and measuring good food. Connecting with fellows came in my outreach calls.  The connection I had been seeking to humanity was graciously given to me by an art teacher in recovery and a story about a woodpecker. The ultimate gift of connection has followed. I feel the love of my Higher Power and my body, mind, and soul are present for this great experience of life.