A Better Way

Fear, doubt, and insecurity. If someone had only told me that was what I struggled to cope with when I was growing up and into young adulthood, it would have saved me a lot of pain. As far back as I can remember, I had anxiety issues. I was raised in a working-class home with three sisters. My parents took us to church each Sunday morning, Sunday evening, Wednesday evening, and whenever there were events. Don’t get me wrong; I love the church to this day, but it didn’t cure my fear, doubt, and insecurity. It was not until I came to FA that I found my cure.

As the oldest daughter of four, I don’t remember very much except for things revolving around food. When I was two or three, we took a trip from our home in Ontario, Canada down to Tennessee to visit family. My only memories are of a large sugar product and dinosaurs. In grade three, I threw up after stuffing myself with treats at a bazaar. My mom, seeing I was nauseated, had me go to the car and wait it out. I threw up in a bag in the car, but strangely, I still wanted more food even though my stomach was upset. Food always got my attention.

Around age 10 or 11, I struggled with upsetting emotions over switching to a new school and getting bullied a lot in grade six, but I also went through sexual abuse. I did not know how to cope with it all alone, and I did not know how to talk about it, so I stuffed those feelings down with food.

When I got teased in grade eight for being chubby, I went to our family doctor. He gave me a calorie counting booklet and I started tracking my calories. That yellow booklet also listed the calories burned by different activities, so I started keeping a diary that included the calories I ate and the calories I burned. I lost some weight yet remained on the plump side.

I believe that, as a confused and hurting teenage girl, I was coping by trying to control my environment and my persona. I was great at people-pleasing, though I had been taught the value of being a God-pleaser rather than a people-pleaser. I thought I was doing what everyone wanted, and I didn’t realize that it was fear, doubt, and insecurity driving me to food—or anything—for relief.

My doctor gave me diet pills when I was 17. These amphetamines, or speed, gave me great control and I lost a lot of weight.

I loved the feeling of power I had when I was on them, but I am glad it was short-lived, as a family friend soon realized what I was taking and said something.

I’m ashamed to say that I stole money from my mom’s purse or my dad’s dresser to get junk food from the corner store. I also snuck down to the basement to eat baked goods from containers in the freezer that were supposed to be kept for special holidays. This behavior became a habit that fed my addiction to flour and sugar.

Later, as a single young woman in my thirties longing for affirmation, I got addicted to explicit conversations in online chat rooms, and I had a few foolish and dangerous meet-ups. Thank you God, I was able to get good counseling and stopped. Yet even now I keep my online social media to a minimum.

All through my thirties and forties I went on diets. I tried commercial diets a few times, gym memberships, binge eating disorder clinics, counseling, and therapy. All that happened was a roller coaster of yo-yo dieting. However, a somewhat successful stint on a particular commercial diet and a personal trainer got me down from almost 260 pounds to just under 200. During that time, I met a wonderful, kind man who became my husband. Though I loved him dearly, I had not yet learned how to deal with my fear, doubt, and insecurity. I thought I could cope by controlling everyone and everything around me. I chuckle now when I think back on all the arguments we had over going out to eat. Of course, I wanted to and my budget-conscious hubby did not. Neither of us understood the other and I had so much resentment towards him. How did I cope? By going out to eat with friends from work.

When my son came along, there were many opportunities to meet up with friends who had children. Mall food courts, fast food playlands, and drive-throughs became the norm. The other routine was late night eating. After my son went to bed, even as his bedtime got later, I found ways to be alone with the flour and sugar products I was hiding from my family.

In 2011, at 307 pounds, I noticed a woman I knew from work losing a bunch of weight, and she told me about FA. I went to a meeting with her and found a sponsor right away. I would love to say it has been “happily ever after,” but I was focused mostly on weight loss at that time, and I got in my own way by customizing how I did the program. I had abstinence for over a year but I was not being honest, open-minded, or willing. After a few rocky years of struggle, even though I had lost 125 pounds, I left in a huff.

During the four years I was out of FA, I gained almost 200 pounds. My world became smaller as I became larger. My 5-foot, 2-inch frame had many aches and pains as I struggled to keep up with life. Doing the bare minimum, I started to say no to school events and often arranged for my son to go to things with my husband or another family. I hardly had any friends and my relationship with my husband was at an all-time low. I just kept stuffing down my feelings with junk food I didn’t even want to eat. Many days, I went through two or three drive-through restaurants and had food hidden around the house.

I stopped taking care of myself and my appearance. I avoided doctors and ended up with severe sleep apnea. I also had terrible edema in my ankles and legs. I’m sure I was a breath away from diabetes, stroke, or heart failure. Depression and anxiety went hand-in-hand with my food addiction. It was nothing to stay up at night eating by myself until 2:00 a.m. I was hurting myself with food, and I did not care. I couldn’t stop. Then came a pandemic in 2020. I was content to isolate myself in lockdown due to Covid. My world was so small; I was already in my own lockdown.

In October 2020, one of my sisters mentioned that she was thinking of starting FA. I am so thankful, because that became the impetus that got me back into recovery. My addict brain had kept me in a fog of “stinking thinking,” but suddenly there was hope. I went to the FA website and discovered that there were FA videoconference gatherings. Going to those meetings was a breath of fresh air. I expected humiliation, but everyone was warm and friendly. I knew then that my facade of control was not helping me. I needed my fellows, the tools of FA, and this spiritual program to truly live. Any walls of resentment melted as I surrendered with new clarity to the reality that my life was unmanageable, and I was powerless over food. Now, because of this program, my family life is better and I have found a deeper connection with my Higher Power. I now have a better way to cope with life.