A Story of Recovery:
Peace From God
I was in Cuernavaca, Mexico for a college term abroad. They call it the “City Of Eternal Spring”. Mexico was an eye-opening experience with incredible rain forests, beaches and beautiful people with a rich colorful culture, and it is also a place with corruption, poor areas and a smell I will never forget.
Living here for 3 months with a humble host family, whose home had been robbed just a few weeks before my roommate and I arrived, I had such a determination that my behavior around food would be different and I was convinced that knowledge of all of this would do it.
Yet, not more than a couple weeks into the time of my visit I found myself in a situation where I felt guilty about the amount of dinner I ate with some friends and the snacks that are readily available at the school we were attending. The way I dealt with the guilt and anger of eating too much was by eating more. I ate whole way home to my host family’s house and when I got there I stole food right out of their pantry. I did this to really feel extended in my stomach because I knew the best way to throw up was if it was practically coming up on its own.
I put my fingers down my throat in the shower, feeling the high of purging and the relief of my stomach feeling empty again. Finally, I could pass out in my bed and hoping to start over again tomorrow. Everyday was the same; I’d try not to be crazily obsessed with my body size and food, eventually binge and purge, then hope that tomorrow will be better.
A few years earlier; I am at home in the USA, another day in my teenage life. I am an active athlete and have lots of friends who like to drink on the weekends, smoke marijuana and go to parties ‘til late into the morning. I often broke my curfew to drink or get stoned…sometimes both. Then, I’d quietly sneak back in to my house. However, every so often my father would have to let me in because my parent’s locked the house. It broke me inside when I saw the sad and disappointed look on his face when he let me in. He didn’t know what to say so he turned his back to me and went to bed.
Every time, I would sneak into the kitchen and binge on everything in the refrigerator and cupboards then purge in the back-hall bathroom. I could not sleep unless I passed out.
Once I asked my only sister who was a couple of years younger than I am to try and stop me if I started binging and purging in the kitchen. I knew I needed to stop this binging and purging behavior and thought this might help. One time was all it took for both of us to realize that NOTHING could stop me once I was in the food; she was terrified of my aggression.
My parents’ home was a beautiful place in suburban NH. As I mentioned, I was popular and active. I did ok in school but as my partying and the fights with my family over my behavior increased, I just wanted to run away. I was distracted and exhausted.
The Mexico term abroad happened while I was in my junior year of college. I really, really hoped I could change if I tried hard enough and put myself in “better” or “new” life situations. I transferred colleges two times and tried to be a better athlete by going to Division I at one of the schools. But ultimately disease of food addiction and my addict approach to life always followed me and I would inevitably feel like an utter failure.
Forever hiding, pretending I was ok and that constant feeling of guilt led me to multiple mental break downs. One time it happened in Mexico near the end of the term and another time it happened just before I was supposed to show up for a sports banquet my senior year in college. I was just so baffled by who I was I wanted to disappear from the planet.
By the time I had graduated from college and was living in Western Massachusetts with my boyfriend there was not much accomplishment on my record. I did great playing sports but my relationships were taut with stress and drama and I could barely hold a simple classroom assistant job. My boyfriend was just about done with me because too many times I acted out unreasonably. I was depressed and wanted to die.
I went to a few congregational churches in my youth, so I had learned about God and the teachings from the Christian religion. I remember learning that God loves me and God is there if you ask for his help. But I thought you were only supposed to ask God to help other people with big problems like cancer or for world peace. It never occurred to me that I could ask God for help with my problems. It occurs to me now however, as I write this that I do have a disease that is just as bad as cancer, maybe worse because not only does it want to kill me, it also causes mental insanity and torture.
One night in my apartment I felt so overwhelmed with wanting to die, I fell on my knees and looked up at the ceiling. I don’t know exactly what I said but it was a plead for something like relief from myself. This happened one or two more times. The last time I was desperate. I had acted so insanely towards my boyfriend that I wanted again to disappear. I begged for help. My parents told me a couple months before I found recovery in FA that they went to church and asked the pastor to ask the congregation to pray for me. That was about the same time I was also begging for help in my boyfriend’s place.
A few weeks later God answered those prayers. My mother found a listing in the newspaper for a food recovery meeting in my area that led me to FA. I called and went to the meeting. I was open to try anything. I had already been to a few AA meetings and was trying to locate a support group of some sort for people with eating disorders and had seen 4 or 5 therapists and psychotherapists over the years in college. I had tried medication too. It scared me so I stopped. I didn’t want my whole personality to be taken away. I just wanted to have a normal head and a normal life.
It is now many years later after attending my first FA meeting. It has been a long road, but now I live that normal life that I prayed for. My binging and purging stopped abruptly once I started following the food plan. I attained clean abstinence right away, but it took a few months before I attained back-to-back abstinence. Certain mistakes or being too afraid to ask for direction got me in a slight mess a few occasions. But over time I understood that I had to put my abstinence and recovery before anything and made sure every detail about my food plan was clean and simple.
I am so grateful for so many things. I have a creative, responsible job and a beautiful home with a wonderful man who loves me dearly. My relationships with my sister and my parents started over once I found FA. In time they have developed into patient, loving and trusting ones. My thinking and my attitudes were so confused and incorrect before. I wanted to blame them and everything outside of me for the way my life was. I have learned to look at things with a much healthier balance now and I have taken daily actions to heal my past.
My sponsors have directed me to do service and face life evenly, with calm. I can still become fearful and doubt myself and my abilities at times but my sponsor and fellows in FA remind me to make a decision to trust—just like I did when I decided to let go of the food. I now show up and do my best and know that whatever I bring to a situation is enough. I have watched my life unfold with lots and lots of mini-miracles that keep me convinced that God is always there to give help and strength.
I am not perfect and never will be. But, the more I let God in and sincerely ask for the help I need, I am attaining peace. This is the biggest gift I could ever wish for. I earned this by doing all of the tools every day and studying and applying the 12 steps to my life. Today I know if I continue surrender my will and my fears, my sense of peace will continue to deepen and my joys will continue to grow.