A Story of Recovery:

Get a Life

I had a day yesterday when I simply didn’t want to be a food addict. If I had my druthers, I wouldn’t be. Nonetheless, the big difference between yesterday and the days before I was in FA, was that I didn’t eat. Instead, I woke up this morning with energy and hope and no self-loathing for having binged away all the uncomfortable feelings I was having.

Two-and-a-half-years ago, when I weighed 275 pounds, I can vividly recall thinking that I would have done anything to be in a normal body—anything. Yesterday I reminded myself that my “anything” is working the tools my program gives me, which is a small price to pay for being in a right-sized body and, even better yet, a right-sized mind.

I’ve been at my goal weight for nine months. Staying in place is a new experience for me, because I am used to losing and gaining, but never staying the same. It continues to surprise me. My heart beat a bit faster as I put on a pair of jeans this morning that I haven’t worn since last spring. Would they still fit? If they didn’t, would my whole day take a downward spiral? Miracles of miracles, they still fit. They fit because I am the same size. How did this happen? This happened because I work the tools of Program.

I remember well all the time and energy I used to spend getting food, eating food, planning to get food, and hating myself for doing all those things. Working my program takes far less energy than all those things did and, better yet, allows me to live in recovery. I am now able to show up for people when I need to, not thinking of some lame excuse to avoid seeing people because I am embarrassed about how much I weigh.

Not only am I better at showing up for people, but I am able to show up for myself and embrace new experiences. I learned how to scull last summer. Now, each time I gingerly lift myself into the narrow tippy scull, I remind myself that at 275 pounds, there was no way I would have fit in the boat.

Today I am most grateful for having a life filled with hope and recovery. I feel as if I have been recalled to life, and I eagerly embrace all it has to offer, the good with the bad, for it is all part of the experience. Most of all, I remember that nothing tastes as good as abstinence feels.

So, for today, regardless of whether or not I want to be a food addict, I simply accept that I am, and get on with the business of staying abstinent. When I do so, I have a life.

 

This story was originally published in the Connection Magazine. Subscribe to the Connection Magazine for more stories of recovery. Or submit your own story of recovery.