My life was on overload when I began attending FA meetings. I took on more and more assignments at work to overcome my feelings of inadequacy. I never knew how much was enough and how much was too much. My mother had recently passed away. She had been in hospice and I spent time with her regularly while not always balancing her needs with what was best for myself and my family. I took frequent trips to see my daughter who attended college out of state. I attended meetings for another 12-step program. I taught Sunday School at church. We had a dog. Life was full. My loving husband rolled with my chaos.
I had no idea that eating was an addiction. I kept thinking, if I could just find the right diet or combination of food, I will be OK. More and more frequently I failed. I had strong preferences for certain food combinations and tastes. As much as I tried to restrict, I would go all out and eat whatever I wanted if I thought I could get away with it. That is, not gaining too much weight or being seen eating that food. After all, gluttony was a sin and being gluttonous in public made me feel ashamed. So I went underground, eating small amounts of healthy foods with others and whatever I wanted when I was alone in the car, at work or late at night. No matter how much I tried, I could not fill up that emptiness inside of me with food.
My insecurities took center stage, and I was miserable. I felt like I should be OK. After all, I had a loving husband, a darling daughter, a nice house, a career. Despite the promise in my life, I was more focused on my own sense of despondency. Life felt hard and complicated with loose ends that were impossible to tie up. I could not get in touch with my joy. I was overwhelmed by the daily responsibilities of work and family, I was stressed out and quick to temper. To soothe myself I ate addictively and that set me apart from my friends and family. Each binge brought more depression and sometimes physical illness. Yet I couldn’t stop eating. Serenity was something I yearned for but rarely felt. I could not slow down my life. I felt desperate to change but did not know how.
I learned of FA through a dear friend who had lost 80 pounds and gained a new confidence, a curiosity about life, and peacefulness. There was a determination about her, and this was attractive to me. She took me to my very first meeting. I liked the meeting but felt I didn’t have time to add meetings to my already impossibly busy schedule. I didn’t know it, but I was still running on self-will. I stayed away for another miserable year, during which time I added a rigorous cross-fit program to my schedule and didn’t lose an inch or a pound. I pushed myself hard, and gained one thing from the experience—an injury. I continued to have a hard time knowing how much was enough. Another year had passed and I was defeated. I couldn’t stop eating. I called my friend and she invited me back to that meeting in our town.
This time I stayed. I got a sponsor that night and began to work the program. In the beginning it was all about the food. Committing to abstinent food, shopping for it, preparing it, and eating it on a schedule was a big job. I spent many late nights chopping, baking, steaming, and packing. I was frazzled and wondered if it might not be better to go back to eating what and how I pleased. But I saw qualities in my fellows that I admired and wanted to grow towards. They were convicted, disciplined, steadfast, and faithful. I wanted what they had more than I wanted to eat. So I stayed, one day at a time.
The 50 lbs. (23 kilos) came off surprisingly easily. I never believed this could happen for me. This was the beginning of getting to know myself. I began to see that many of my problems were of my own making. I began sharing with fellows about my fear, doubts, and insecurities. I found I was not alone. I began to understand that my food addiction manifested in my moodiness, stress, and unreliability, which adversely affected my family. I was quick to judge just about everyone and very thin-skinned. Such interactions are difficult because everything feels personal when it is not.
I have been fortunate to have the same sponsor since joining program. After helping me with the basics of the food, we regularly discussed the chaos in my life. My sponsor guided me to eat simply and advised that preparing simple food would translate into a simpler life. As a terminal complicator who always has too much to do, this concept was extremely hopeful. Yet, I came close to quitting a few times. When the program felt demanding I blamed my sponsor and I wanted to run. I came to realize that she did not care to be in charge of my life and was not criticizing me but giving me suggestions to help me stay abstinent, one food addict to another.
While the idea of slowing down seemed abstract to me, what I did understand was putting my program first by going to three committed meetings a week, calling three fellows a day, and practicing rigorous honesty with my sponsor. That was the beginning of self-care which I had never really experienced. My priorities—program, family, and finally my job—began to fall into place. I began to grow in ways I didn’t think were possible. Setting boundaries around the food helped me to prioritize other areas of my life. I began to say no when I meant no.
My life has slowed down, and I have learned to pause before making new commitments in any area of my life. I attend FA meetings regularly, talk honestly with my sponsor, and work my tools. I am abstinent one day at a time. My husband enjoys seeing me thin but most of all he notices a new confidence about me. He also says I am less stressed, nicer, and all in all much easier to live with. We just celebrated our 31st anniversary. My daughter and I talk regularly, and we have mutual respect and love. I have learned that I am not that different from others, and I am never alone. Today my life is full, and I can appreciate all that I have. I have found contented abstinence through surrender and simplicity, one day at a time.