My first 90 days were uneventful, for the most part. The first day, I committed my food to a sponsor and actually only ate what I committed. Astonishing. The next two days, having given up sugar and flour, I was exhausted from lack of my drug. I felt “unplugged.”  I remember thinking to myself: was sugar and flour my only fuel?  I thought I might fall asleep at the wheel driving to work for the next few days, and I had to place my head on top of my desk at work to catnap. But after about a week of that, I felt better and the food got put in its proper place—as nourishment, not drug abuse.

What did not get put in its proper place were my lifelong habits of people pleasing— putting the feelings of others ahead of my own. There were three incidents in a row.

The first incident was when a co-worker offered me a slice of a fruit. It was the best she had ever tasted. I had to try it.  My thought was that I could have it because, after all, that was on my food plan and I was going to have it for lunch anyway. Funny thing was that as soon as I placed it in my mouth, I knew not to chew, and I spit it out on a napkin and did not swallow.

My next episode was when my sister was over for Thanksgiving and made a special hors d’ouevres that I just had to try. She had made it special for me.  My sister and I weren’t getting along so well and I didn’t want to make our relationship worse by refusing to try her recipe. So again, in the mouth, pretend to taste and eat, and then spit it out into the napkin when I turn my head. Again no chewing, no swallowing, and no telling my sponsor what I had done. But I didn’t hurt my sister’s feelings. I lied, but didn’t hurt her feelings.

Next was the deal breaker for me, when my four- year-old granddaughter had made her first batch of homemade flour and sugar things and wanted me to try them. I just couldn’t say no to her, so I took bites of one of them, pretended to eat and enjoy, and then spit them back out when she wasn’t looking and fed them to the dog.

I finally had to admit that I was deceiving myself. I needed to confess to my sponsor what I was doing. Up to that time, I had been afraid of having a break in my program. I was afraid of what I might do if I wasn’t perfect in my abstinence. I wondered if I would go on an eating spree or give up or get mad. When I finally told my sponsor about all these events, I realized that the acts themselves were problems, and so was trying to keep them from my sponsor. I had broken my abstinence and practiced dishonesty.

So after 72 days in program, I was back to day one because of my people-pleasing behaviors that I allowed to corrupt my abstinence. That was over two years ago, and I have lost 80 pounds in FA. The surprise for me was that I accepted starting over. No binges or sprees, no anger, just a fair amount of sadness around the whole situation. Then I started again.

I see now what a valuable lesson I learned. I do not have to say yes to others to prove I care about them and to keep them from being mad at me. My path to continued contented sobriety requires that I put my abstinence first, my feelings first, and yours second.