Until recently, family visits have been such a struggle for me. I chose to hang onto the idea that being a food addict was a fundamental flaw that made me “less than” everyone else around me. This would cause obsession around food and a constant generalized anxiety about whether or not I was saying or doing the wrong thing.

I obsessed over questions like, “Should I eat what I committed or sit down with the family and eat what was prepared last minute? Should I be using my scale around the company or weighing and measuring with my eyes?” I felt self-conscious about asking for plain food or even about taking up too much room in my sister’s refrigerator for the food I needed.

After talking with my sponsor about my food questions, doubts, and insecurities, it became clear that there were ways to simplify my responses in the moments when I became obsessed, but fear kept me from being able to see things clearly. If someone asked a question about my food, my fear would put me on the defensive, even though the person was simply curious. I was always trying to hide my solution, and the truth about myself—the fact that I’m a food addict. I wasn’t accepting that I’m a person with a disease, who has to take the proper treatment.

I recently planned a long visit with my sister and her new baby. I realized I was going to have to make my visit shorter than I wanted so I wouldn’t miss two AWOLs in a row. When I realized this, I chose self-pity and negativity. I approached my family apologetically, telling them I could only stay for 10 days. I perceived that in their silence, they were judging my Program and me with negativity and disappointment.  The truth is, I don’t know what they were thinking. I was the one judging myself negatively. Carrying around constant fear and negativity led to more fear and negativity, and eventually to a break in my abstinence.

Since then, 11 months ago, I have thankfully, and out of necessity, shifted my thinking. Understanding that I’m a food addict in recovery is no longer a bad thing. I am so grateful that my break did not have to bring me face down bingeing on flour and sugar.

I am now able to see how my recovery has given me a way of life in which I can be a sister who is present, helpful, and loved for who I am. The more I accept myself for who I am, the more I can accept others for who they are, and in return, feel acceptance from them.

Weighing and measuring my food and making choices when I’m on vacation is no longer a struggle. I feel close to my Higher Power and feel clear about my motives. I still feel uncomfortable on occasion having to say, “No thank you,” but I quickly follow it up with saying to myself, “Thank you God that’s not my food.”

Most of the time, any disappointment I perceive is all in my imagination. I am  actually respected for what I do, for the most part. But even when I’m not, I still feel grateful for the solution I balked at for so long. What I think others think of me is no longer as important as what I believe my Higher Power thinks of me, or what I think of myself.

Today I am on my way home from the vacation I had to cut short. When it came time to say goodbye to my sister, who wanted me to spend more time with her, instead of apologizing, I told her my truth. I comfortably explained that I’m sad about leaving, but that I need and want my meetings. That is my humble truth. For the first time, I explained unapologetically that I have a serious illness that needs treatment and that it’s a treatment that I’m grateful for and enjoy.

I wouldn’t be available at all for her or anyone if I was in my disease. At 220 pounds, I wouldn’t have been running up and down her stairs 24 times a day and staying up with her baby at night, feeding him instead of myself. My sister nodded in agreement. She knew me well in my disease.

I’m no longer afraid to be honest with others or with myself. My openness might actually help another food addict. At the moment, I’m in the airport, grateful to be writing this article of gratitude, rather than snacking my way through this layover.