Bridesmaid Revisited

A STORY OF RECOVERY FROM FOOD ADDICTION

Bridesmaid Revisited

A wedding is a time to celebrate the union of two people who love each other and plan to spend […]

A wedding is a time to celebrate the union of two people who love each other and plan to spend the rest of their lives together. It is when family and friends gather to enjoy one another with music, laughter and, of course…. food.

In my first ninety days of abstinence, I had a complicated experience that tested my strength, dedication, and faith. I attended a wedding for a dear friend in New York, where I was to be a bridesmaid.

I had been in FA for six weeks. Although I did not have a lot of weight to lose, the craziness and insanity in my head had brought me to Program. After I had a meltdown in front of my husband, I admitted many of the twisted, awful thoughts I had been having for so long. I googled “food addiction” and found FA.

My husband and I traveled to New York the day before the wedding, and I was so proud of myself for packing all the necessities; literature, food scale, and girdle (something had to keep me secured in that dress!). I had spoken to my sponsor several days in advance so I could prepare for this event. I was feeling confident, but at the same time unsure of what would happen. Would I be able to stay abstinent? I wanted it desperately, but fear, doubt and insecurity (the backbone of my disease) plagued my soul.

The day of the wedding started out smoothly. I woke up early, meditated, ate an abstinent meal, and headed out to get my hair done. I felt proud of myself for staying focused on working a strong program. Many fellows had warned me that big events can hinder our sobriety. This was not just one event though; this was multiple events. I would be flying home to New York, staying with my parents, and attending this lavish wedding. Which was the thing that could break my abstinence?

As I arrived back to my parent’s house to get ready to head out for the wedding, I realized I needed to not only get my wedding items together, but more important, my food for dinner. I had decided I would just bring my dinner, since I was not sure what they would be serving or if it could be cooked abstinently. I knew there would be a lot of food at this extravagant wedding, but I also did not want to make things complicated, or draw any unnecessary attention my way. I packed the cooler with my weighed and measured meal and we headed out the door.

Eating my abstinent meal during my committed dinnertime was going to take some adjusting. The wedding was running an hour late, and I could feel my anxiety level surging up. I started to get snippy, controlling, and quiet—not a great recipe for a wedding or an abstinent day. I was stuck on a party van with ten strangers and seething in negative emotions. I did not feel comfortable making an outreach call, but knew I needed something desperately. What I did not realize (or was so wrapped up in my own head/will/thoughts) was my Higher Power was right there waiting for me to ask for His help. That was what was missing from that day.

After the wedding, I hung out for few minutes because I was not sure if there more wedding photos to be taken. I paced back and forth while cocktail hour started. There were endless rows of flour and sugar items. I could see them, and worse, I could smell them—and this was only the first course. I found myself getting more agitated and decided this was the best time to go eat my abstinent dinner. I decided to eat in the car so things would be simpler for me. As I sat in the back seat with all of this abstinent food to eat while everyone else ate the copious amounts of binge foods inside, I started to feel every negative emotion I had been ignoring all day long and not dealing with. I had thought I could handle things on my own.

I then started to feel rushed, because I started to worry someone was looking for me for pictures or some other “bridesmaid’s emergency.” I began to shovel the food into my mouth, barely chewing each bite and almost gagging on it. At that moment, my husband came out to the car to check on me. The instant he sat down in the front seat and asked me how I was doing, I started to cry, which is not an easy feat when you are trying to inhale food. I tried to explain to my non-food-addict husband why I was so upset.

I had chosen not to use my tools—no asking my Higher Power for help and no phone calls. This choice was hurting me physically, emotionally, and mentally, but my lack of humility stopped me from doing something about it. I did not want my fellows to know what I was doing. I also started to feel like I was back in disease again, hiding in my car, and shoving food (even though it was abstinent) in my mouth in hopes that no one would catch me. I was feeling tremendous shame, guilt, and resentment. My husband tried to help me calm down by explaining that no one was looking for me, but the wall had been built in my mind and I was not in a willing place to listen. After I finished eating and crying, we went back in the reception. I indeed missed nothing but more eating.

We finally went upstairs to the reception where there was a five-course meal and an elaborate dessert bar. I went onto the dance floor so I could stay distracted. By the time dessert came out, I needed to go home. My husband and I said our goodbyes and headed out, much to the bride’s chagrin.

I felt like I had just survived a marathon. I was emotionally and physically exhausted. I would like to have also included a spiritual exhaustion, but I hardly tapped into my Higher Power. This is why I believe I was so fatigued. I had not had faith or trust in my Higher Power’s will. I attempted to control everything at the expense of my serenity.

I did beat myself up the next day, until I started making those needed phone calls and my fellows reminded me that I was still abstinent and could learn from this experience.

I started to think through all of the things I should have done, so that next time I am faced with a major event, I will have a bank full of tools and a key—my Higher Power—with which to open that bank.

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