Stories of Recovery


These stories were originally published in the Connection, FA's monthly magazine written by food addicts, for food addicts. Each post shares a different author's perspective. Visit this page often to read more experience, strength, and hope about recovery in FA. To get the newest issue of Connection Magazine sent directly to your mailbox or inbox, click here to subscribe to the Connection.

Can’t Win Single-Handed

I was at a family birthday celebration once and the dessert was on proud display. It called to me every time I walked by the table. But the words came to me, “Don’t eat no matter what; no matter what, don’t eat.”  I claimed those words over and over again with success. But then the item was cut and the interior revealed some of my favorite flavors. I realized then that I was in deep trouble. The words came to my mind again, “Don’t eat no matter what; no matter what, don’t eat,” but these words just didn’t have the punch and the power that they had previously given me. Then something from the Twelve Steps came to my mind: that we can’t win through single-handed combat. I realized that I was trying to do battle with a single weapon—my will. I also realized that, under these circumstances, I would... Continue Reading

 


 

It Can Be Done!

I love skiing and traveling. Before being saved by FA, I skied all the day long, overeating at lunch, and crashing after a hard day of skiing and snacking. (I still find extra goodies in my ski jacket pockets from the years of “just in case I get hungry” thoughts that encouraged me to save treats or buy extras.) I also traveled to exotic places in various parts of the world. When I came into FA, I was not sure how I could continue to travel and ski once I began working the program the way I do. I have dreamed about traveling to far away lands and experiencing the most unique cultures of the earth. I often wondered, in my early abstinence, if it would be possible for me to ever travel again. I came into Program at the age of 23, weighing 164 pounds, and felt that I... Continue Reading

 


 

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... Continue Reading

 


 

The Dreaded Commitment

It’s my belief that the only newcomers to FA who have no problem with the non-dating commitment are already married. Me? I balked like a mule when my sponsor first mentioned it. Back then, I was fifty years old and had already suffered through a decade or two of not dating. I didn’t welcome the suggestion not to date. After a few months of struggling with my sponsor about it, and after I had lost the bulk of my weight, I attended my college reunion, solo. During the cocktail hour, I began to chat with a classmate. When dinner was called, he said that he would come find me when the dancing began. His statement threw me into a panic. It was all I could do to choke down my meal and then race out of the hall at a dead run. In the parking lot, I tried to get... Continue Reading

 


 

I Am One of Them Too

I am the daughter of a classic alcoholic. I was born in 1946 and grew up in Houston, Texas. For most of my childhood and adolescence, I watched my loving, brilliant father slowly deteriorate from that vicious disease. I felt every feeling imaginable about his drinking, but one thought never crossed my mind: that I had inherited some biological or behavioral version of his disease. What I consciously remember was the thought that I would never drink like he did. I fought him and his drinking. I poured the liquor from his hidden bottles down the kitchen sink. I confronted him and sobbed with despair and rage. My ever-nurturing mother was a classic enabler. She fed him, cleaned him up, protected him, and earned the living that supported our family. The truth was that she loved him very much and did not know what else to do. Near the end... Continue Reading