A Story of Recovery:

Forgiving

I have struggled with food for 50-plus years. I wasn’t a fat kid, but I thought I was. I compared myself to other girls continually, and when I was older, compared myself to other women. I can’t remember when I didn’t have thoughts about food and weight. Is my butt smaller or larger than hers? Are my thighs that big?

I would starve myself, but not for long, because I really liked to eat. Then I would cry because I didn’t have the willpower not to eat. I put alcohol down in 1994 and have been in several Twelve-Step programs, but I never made it to the ninth step. 

I was in a very bleak pit of despair in early December on year and was wondering if I would be like that for the rest of my life. I’d sit in my easy chair, watch TV, eat, go to bed, get up the next day, and go to work. In the evening, I’d repeat the same pattern. The only change would be where I’d go to get the food. During the day I’d fantasize about where to get what, how long it would take, and how much money it would cost. I was always exhausted. I would gain weight, feel horrible, lose weight, feel better about myself, then gain the weight back and feel horrible again. Every single diet was going to be the one that would help me absolutely control what I ate. I told myself that I would stick with this one, and then I wouldn’t. I lived a life of continual disappointment in myself.

One Sunday morning the following January , I got a phone call from a friend I hadn’t talked to for about 16 years. We had been very close and then time and poor decisions had come between us. I was surviving a messy divorce, medical problems, and a bankruptcy, and I guess I just let go of the friendship. I’m a food addict. I did what came easily to me. I isolated, ate, and tuned out the world. My isolation included me letting go of friendships.

When I picked up the phone and heard her voice on the other end, all of the wonderful years we’d spent together came rushing back. But there was something different in her tone. She was softer, almost hesitant in her speech. This was a woman who had moved through the world with giant strides, not steps. I never knew her to hesitate about anything, ever. She had always been forthright in her speech and a force to be reckoned with in her profession. To hear this easy-going and gentle voice on the other end of the line, well, this was something new. She had changed.

She got to the point. She wanted to make amends. My heart was racing. I told her she didn’t have to make amends to me. She corrected me and said that, yes, she did. She explained that she was in a Twelve-Step program for food addicts and that this was essential for her recovery. Food addict. I had never heard the term. I am an alcoholic and thought of myself as a compulsive overeater. Before that, I saw myself as an overeater. I never thought of myself as a food addict. We talked more, and she informed me that she was a size 4. Oh, and she had a boyfriend. Did I want to come to a meeting?

I showed up to the meeting and saw my friend. She looked younger than I remembered.  She had always been quite heavy, but now she was slender and lovely. She had me sit in the front row, and when it came time, she told me to stand up and introduce myself as a newcomer. I did everything she suggested. I also got a sponsor, who I still have to this day, and I am now on my ninth step and am making a list for my amends. This program saved my life. Working the tools and the steps, I have begun the process of forgiving myself. I am a grateful food addict.