Good Enough

I was raised in a stable, loving home, and had an easy childhood. I was competent at sports and schoolwork. I was lucky to have good friends all through school and two older sisters who paved the way for me in life. I never had a weight problem until college, but I did notice that sweets were always much more interesting to me than other food.

I had a rather skewed vision of myself and went on my first diet during middle school, when I was about 5-feet, 7-inches tall and weighed under 120 pounds. I didn’t think I was obese or even fat, but I just wanted that tiny roll on my stomach gone. Although I thought I looked good, I believed I did not look good enough. That is truly the crux of my disease—never enough. I cheated on that first diet (and all the others that were to come) by eating my favorite sugar products.

I went to college four hours from home and the feelings of insecurity grew into a painful ache as I tried to make a new life for myself in an unfamiliar, stressful environment. I didn’t think I was a horrible person. I just thought I wasn’t good enough. Making the dean’s list wasn’t good enough, I needed straight As. Dating a handsome, kind, funny, smart guy wasn’t good enough, he needed to be in a specific fraternity.

When my roommate went through sorority rush as a sophomore (I had pledged a sorority my freshman year), I didn’t stand up for her to get her an invitation to my sorority. She was a great girl, but she was fat, and my self-esteem was too low to advocate for her. I felt like I wasn’t good enough to be in my sorority, so how could I ever justify trying to get her in? I eventually drowned my shame and remorse in food and alcohol. My roommate ended up pledging a good sorority that valued her for the wonderful person that she was.

I got increasingly sick with food addiction. I remember traveling out of the country to London and eating lunch in the Hard Rock Café with some of my friends from the US. My lunch consisted of huge portions of protein, flour, carbohydrates, and oil. I consumed several large sugar- and alcohol-laced drinks with my lunch. By the end of the meal, I was overly full and more than a little drunk, so another drug seemed like the perfect addition to my experience. Although not a smoker, I stumbled across the street to buy a pack of cigarettes. As I was waiting to cross back across the street after getting my stash, a long, white limousine pulled over in front of me. One window slowly lowered, and a man offered me money to perform a specific service for him. I refused. Even though I was drunk, I knew I didn’t want to end up floating face down in the Thames. But the heartbreaking part was that I was flattered. Never mind that he treated me like a prostitute. My self-esteem was so rock bottom low that all I really cared about was that a man wanted me.

An hour later, I was sitting on the dirty bathroom floor of the Hard Rock Café, gripping the toilet and throwing up the foul mixture of too much food, alcohol, and cigarettes. I gained 25 pounds during that six-week London trip and most people would consider that experience as hitting bottom, but I didn't seem to have a bottom.

I continued to try exercise regimes, diets, and hypnosis to control my weight, and ended up weighing 172 pounds. For me, having spent most of my life in a right-sized body, I felt enormous. I wasn’t interested in going out with friends, dating, or doing my job. At that point, I just wanted to watch movies and eat.

I stumbled across another Twelve-Step program for food, got a sponsor, and began to get somewhat better, but I was still eating addictively. I worked the steps, lost weight, and did service. I became well enough to meet my wonderful husband, who I am very grateful for today. Problems surfaced when we got engaged, however. Marriage required give and take, and emotional maturity I did not possess. I had purposely chosen a sponsor who didn’t require me to stick to a food plan or call her regularly. I was at goal weight, but I was still eating flour and sugar, not doing quiet time, and not making phone calls or reading literature. I went to meetings, did service, and that was about it. I did have a few sponsees but would get irritated when they called and wanted my help. After being married for less than a year, I ended up drinking alone in a bar at my brother-in-law’s wedding and topped that off by eating out of the trash can. I finally decided to join FA.

FA sponsors taught me to make a commitment to my recovery and to myself. I made the decision to do all the FA tools: quiet time, reading, weighing and measuring my food, attending the same three FA meetings each week, working the Twelve Steps, calling my sponsor regularly, and making FA phone calls. These were difficult lessons for me—learning to bring discipline to my program and life, but these simple disciplines, sponsorship, and service combined to change my life immeasurably over the last 15 years. My husband and I don’t have a perfect marriage, but we do have a good partnership based on love and respect. My two children were born to a mother in recovery, and I’ve learned how to be a good parent.

The feelings of “I’m never good enough” still plague me sometimes. A true gift of the program is that I am letting go of some of that thinking. When I catch myself feeling that I am not good enough in some way, I affirm to myself that I am doing the best I can. When I say that to myself, I feel a real peace and contentment that is good enough.

I just got back from another trip out of the country, only this time I did it in recovery. My husband, two sons, and I vacationed in a beautiful resort on the coast of Mexico. There were flour and sugar snacks and alcoholic beverages in the room at all times, and room service was available 24/7. The pool had a swim-up bar, and there was a buffet three times a day. It was all free, and, according to my family, all really good. (Thank you God, I don’t know from personal experience.) I had to work hard to get what I needed at meals. I don’t speak the native language, and there was very little food offered that was plain. There were times I had to let go of some food items I would normally eat at a meal.

The result of putting my food first was tremendous. I got to truly enjoy the beauty and comfort of a five-star resort. I went to a salsa class, played water polo, and swam with dolphins. I didn’t worry once about the size of my backside or cringe when I saw my reflection in the shiny metal of the elevator. I was available for my family on this trip, not hiding in my room gorging. I got to laugh with my sons. And on this trip, I lost a pound instead of gaining 25.