“Am I allowed a different type of my breakfast food?,” I asked my sponsor a couple of weeks after joining FA. (I had eaten it that morning.) “You have 50 pounds to lose,” she said. “Just have the regular kind.” She paused and said, “Why? Have you eaten it already?

“No,” I said. I was surprised that the lie had slipped out of my mouth before I had time to even consider a response. That was the first time I realized it was more important to me to appear to be doing well rather than to actually be doing well. It didn’t matter how awful I felt as long as people thought, “She’s got great recovery.” I believed that would make people like me better, which would make me like myself better.

So I continued on my quest to hit the magic number of 90 days of abstinence, but it  didn’t work. I wasn’t doing quiet time, as I couldn’t bear to sit with myself. I wasn’t calling people, because I didn’t want to “bother” them. I never ate flour and sugar, but I started abstinence afresh time and again, mainly because I still made decisions around my food and it only rarely occurred to me to ask my sponsor.

When my sponsor once said: “Make sure you don’t eat your salad while preparing the rest of your meal,” a thick dusting of shame settled down on me. I put the phone down and looked in horror at my mum (whom I was living with at the time, as I had lost my job and therefore my flat, due to my addiction behavior).  I asked my mum how my sponsor knew I was doing that. Mum smiled lovingly and said, “Because she’s done it too.” I gradually began to realise these weren’t people I had to impress—these were just food addicts trying to recover, and they could help me.

Each time I broke my abstinence, I got a bit more honest and, finally, I understood: What matters is that I stick to the number on the scale. If I go one point over or under, I am saying I know better and that I am not powerless over food. It has no effect on any other fellow if I’m not doing my tools, but it has an enormous effect on me.

When I got honest about my food, I could be more honest about my feelings, and I began to let people in and started to learn the joys of being the same on my outside as I felt on my inside. With honesty came integrity. I began to do what I said I would do. With integrity came self-respect. I didn’t hate myself so much so I was easier to be around. I was lighter and more loving. I could be of service to others.

Of course, in true addict form, I swung far too much the other way and got frightened and uptight, but that has since lessened. Many years on, I still get very upset if I have to break a commitment which, due to poor health, I have to do often. But hey, FA is helping me with that too!