Point of No Return

During a morning conversation with my sponsor, she asked in trepidation if I had broken my abstinence. It was during the holidays, and a couple of her sponsees were struggling.

I assured her that I was gratefully abstinent and that all was well. I shared that I felt I had crossed the point of no return, that I had more to lose by breaking than I had to gain by returning to my addiction. Although I am acutely aware that we are all one bite away from breaking at any moment, I felt I had reached the point in the program when the benefits far outweighed the delights of flour, sugar, and quantities.

When did the point of no return happen in this food addict’s life? I believe my journey began by making the tools a habit: getting on my knees in the morning, having quiet time, eating committed and measured meals, making outreach calls, attending three meetings a week, reading literature, writing, and getting on my knees at night. I got closer to the no-turning-back point when I hit the 90 days of abstinence milestone. At that juncture, I was able to lead and qualify at meetings, take on service positions, and speak during business meetings. I became more accountable to my sponsor, my fellows, and myself. I had more to lose if I broke at this stage. I would risk letting others down and losing all of my progress.

At this point, I also began to see God’s 99 percent in conjunction with my meager one percent. I began to make a life out of my new way of eating and living. The FA way became a habit, no longer drudgery or a life sentence. It became a bridge to my true identity, to self-discipline, and to self-respect. At the point of no return, my adult voice grew louder than my immature addiction voice. I thought about the consequences of breaking and no longer romanticized my old way of eating and abusing food. I started counting the costs if I ate. I thought about who I would harm by breaking, especially myself. I no longer mourned the foods I could never eat again; I accepted that my brain does not function well on flour, sugar, or quantities. My brain and my life thrive when I make self-care the norm rather than the exception.

It is difficult to ascertain when I stepped over the threshold of that point of no return, but if I manage to get there, the journey forward is a rosy one. There is hope and serenity, and when life does not afford me that serenity or hope, I am quick to evaluate my life, actions, and relationships. I am quick to write down my emotions, to consider the facts, to bounce ideas off of my sponsor, and to share my musings and troubles with another fellow.

Peace and right actions feel normal to me now. Self-control and mature behavior feel appropriate. That is the joy of the point of no return; that acceptance brought me unfathomable benefits—more than any flour or sugar product ever could provide.