I came into FA while I was in college. By that time, I had a long history of not having used my mind for anything but concentrating on looking good and deciding on the next meal to concoct. I was constantly obsessed with where to get food, how to make it, and how to get the most checked-out. One time I was so desperate to get food unstuck from the vending machine at school that I tried to tip it over from the top. I was so embarrassed!

In my beginning years of college, I was intoxicated with sugar, flour, fat, fear, doubt, and insecurity. The only conversations I was interested in having with people were about the state of my body—how it was either growing or shrinking.  I would talk about the latest diet I was on and how it was or wasn’t working. It was always all about me. I honestly can’t remember a time before FA when a conversation I had (that didn’t involve yelling) was two-sided. My weight varied from about 143 to 155, and I felt like a blimp. I was a binger and a bulimic.

School wasn’t challenging for me, but I got sweaty palms and hated group discussion time. Getting help from others didn’t appeal. I took easy classes and kept myself functioning at a level where I could maintain adequate grades without a lot of brain growth. All I wanted was to learn the answer or formula so I could show everyone that I amounted to something. I’m sure there were moments when I got frustrated and didn’t know how to approach problems or assignments, but I was numb with negativity and unable to admit weakness. If I didn’t understand something, I usually pretended I did and kept a straight face so no one would suspect my ignorance. Despite it all, I don’t regret the education I got, and I adore the job it led me to (teaching).

I’ve been abstinent for a while now, and I’m living a life free from sugar, flour, and quantities of food, things that in the past affected my mental and emotional state. Now my weight ranges from 118-120 pounds.

I recently had the honor of being asked to attend a rigorous work training at a prestigious university, where the topic was mathematics, and the theme was “problem solving.” I went into the week thinking that I would learn how to better teach my young students and that the training wouldn’t take too much brainpower. Was I ever wrong! I was completely humbled by the entire experience and shown by my Higher Power (once again) that gratitude takes care of my deep feelings of inadequacy about everything. I was afraid that the experience would overwhelm me and I would need to run to food to cope.

The experience made me aware of how much I hadn’t stretch my mental capacity in the past. During the week there were a couple of times when my fear, doubt, and insecurity came up.  In one of those moments, I admitted that the problem was way beyond me and asked for some helpful explanation. I made a friend by doing this. He and I later found a piano and sang one of my favorite songs together. I made a pal just by being someone who didn’t know. What a miracle of God!  During other times, the teachers came alongside me and assisted me. It wasn’t their empathy that blew my mind (although it was appreciated), but it was my attitude of gratitude. I had tough moments, but instead of crying and running out of the room like a little child, I happily did whatever I could to make myself part of the group.

This week of training showed me clearly that I have the tools of FA to turn to—calls, prayer, and abstinence.  With a grateful heart in me at all times, I was able to confidently leave the campus when the training was over with my head held high, because of the simple fact that I showed up and was vulnerable.

I understand now that even through the times in my life when I was lost in my disease of food addiction, God’s love was always there, waiting for me to admit that I needed outside help. The awakening that I had as I relived my college student days was that the whole process of trying to solve problems is the answer. The serenity that flows through me when I live from my grateful heart, whether it’s within classroom walls or on top of a mountain, connects me to God, to my fellowship, and to myself.