Journey to Healing

I was 19 years old and a wretch of a human being. I had come to the realization that the bulimia, starving, and bingeing that I practiced consistently since I was 13 years old was messing up my life. I sought care from a nutritionist, a hypnotherapist, my parents, psychologists, and the hospital emergency room.

On Super Bowl Sunday, when I was 19, I hosted a sorority retreat at my parent’s house. As usual, I couldn’t stop talking about the food plan I was on. I was convinced it was going to work this time. I was eating lots of food directly from the earth. I wasn’t weighing and measuring, and I was eating a small amount of a sugary substance for breakfast every morning. I had been on this plan for two weeks. When the sorority girls left the retreat at my parent’s home, I was still there and feeling terribly lonely. My boyfriend came over and we had an argument. I ate something that wasn’t on my food plan, and I couldn’t stop. It was an absolutely miserable binge.

After I took that bite, I went home, where my roommates were having guests to watch the game. I was still feeling the tension of the fight I had with my love, and I kept eating. When the traditional game food arrived, I was glued to the table. People questioned me about my food plan. By that time, I had begun drinking because my nutritionist had said certain types of alcohol in moderate amounts was healthy. She didn’t understand the way my body physically reacts to liquid and solid sugar. I responded to my friends with a slurred, “This is on my food plan!” I began eating a whole bag of snack items that were also on my food plan but were supposed to be eaten in small amounts. My boyfriend’s roommate kept asking me why I was eating so much. I don’t know if my boyfriend had told him about my eating problem yet, but that day it was visible for everyone to see. I don’t remember who was playing the game. All I remember was dip, dip, dip. I didn’t and couldn’t do anything about my compulsion. I escaped to my bedroom with my boyfriend and passed out. I woke up the next morning with a splitting headache and a swollen stomach. This was the horrid way I began the next semester of college.

Shortly after that night, I broke up with my boyfriend. I knew I needed help, and I thought that eliminating him would be a start. In hindsight, eliminating a lot of things got me headed toward the recovery I found in FA. But it wasn’t until I joined FA that I had clarity about who and what truly needed to be in and out of my life. I regretted the way I threw him and others out of my life. I don’t do that anymore, thank you God.

When I got to FA, I was told that sugar and flour were out. I was still throwing up my food well into being in FA. Although I didn’t want to hear that I had to weigh and measure, I learned that the way I was handling food was leading me to a sore stomach, scabby fingers from purging, and gas that smelled toxic. When I began eating the way my sponsor suggested, I started to heal.

It took me a while and it has been a journey toward attaining solid, contented abstinence. I needed a few more trips back to the food while being in FA, just to make sure I was a food addict, and to trust that my fellows and sponsor weren’t going anywhere. I show my appreciation for an abstinent Super Bowl Sunday now by staying abstinent, keeping my AWOL commitments, returning phone calls, attending my committed meetings, and telling others how much their recovery has affected and impacted my life. I am going to a party to celebrate my home team tomorrow. I only know a few people who are going, but recovery has taught me how to relax, be confident, be myself, listen to others, and have a good time. I am looking forward to humbly taking out my Tupperware when it is time to eat dinner. I have learned not to be ashamed of who I am, a food addict.

Today my heart sings because I have forgiven myself for hurting myself with food, sex, alcohol, and saying harmful words about others and myself. I can be a kind and gentle soul now. I can get to know new people and am not afraid of them. Weighing and measuring my food, praying constantly to God, and working closely with a sponsor have made all this possible. I feel remade. I feel victorious.