Breaking Family Patterns
I
grew up in a family that had a preoccupation around food and weight. When I was little, I was sure that my baby-fat cheeks and “thunder thighs” meant that I was already hopelessly fat. I was miserable that I would be fat and forever dieting like my mom. When the pounds really became evident on me as a teen, my mom said, “Your dad noticed that you’re getting a big butt, so be careful, honey, I never want you to be fat like me.” That’s how the cycle of exercise, bingeing, worrying, and finding a new fad diet began. My dad was 51 when he suffered his first massive heart attack and almost died. He was obese, with undetected heart blockages and diabetes. He worked hard at first and lost about 80 pounds (about 36 kilos). I often walked and dieted alongside my dad, but I noticed how we both struggled to maintain our weight. My dad lost his job, so he started his own insurance business. The stress was immense and, with it, came more eating. Slowly, he had his suits readjusted to accommodate his growing girth. We celebrated his sixtieth birthday with a huge surprise party, where he announced he would have open heart surgery. Sadly, he lost his battle and passed away. connection
When I turned 51, I felt like I was the female version of my dad, heading right into the very same pattern. I feared I would also be a victim of diabetes and heart disease. I needed a solution, and begged God to help me while I cried myself to sleep at night, dreaming of what I would binge on next. It seemed that I had tried every weight and exercise program available. At 4-feet, 11-inches tall, I was inching up to the 200pound mark (about 90 kilos). I demanded God send me a miracle, perhaps the gastric sleeve surgery, like my brother had done. I was desperate and earnestly praying for an answer. Thank God I was ready when the answer came, or almost ready. I am 55 years old now and have been involved in Food Addicts in Recovery Anonymous (FA) since February 29, 2016. It was “leap of faith” day, as it was leap year, and there was an extra day that February. Boy, am I glad for that extra day! I came into FA kicking and screaming for a bit, but on April 1, I decided not to be foolish, and I pledged to God that I would stay abstinent. It has been over three years now. One day at a time, I have been blessed to be able to stay abstinent. I have three weighed-andmeasured meals a day, no flour, no sugar, 13
