Turning Point

I’ve never felt as desperate for recovery as I did the day I had my last binge. I was in my 20s when I first came into FA. I had been bingeing out of control, was bulimic, tried starving myself, and had suicidal thinking. I was negative, angry, and fearful. Every day was a long binge, and I found no relief from my obsession with food. All I could think about was which food store to go to next.

Once I got into FA, my life was good, but my perspective of it was negative. I never wanted to feel uncomfortable. I didn’t understand what people in FA meant when they said at meetings to “get comfortable with being uncomfortable.” I resented those words. I was white knuckling my abstinence through stressful school situations and the transition of moving away from my parents. I was making school too important and wanted to be done with it. Instead of listening at meetings for how to get through these stressful times, I focused on comparing everyone’s recovery to my own. I had a lot of arrogance and was aware of many thoughts that told me I was better than other people. I wasn’t treating or talking about the negative way of thinking that encompassed every area of my life. I didn’t admit to myself that this was a problem in my personality that was separating me from other people and any kind of spiritual life.

I began to feel these negative thoughts getting in the way of my honesty with my sponsor. I lied to myself and to her. I began over-exercising and not telling her. I started using food items that she had guided me to avoid. I searched for other programs to join, even though my sponsor had suggested I stay away from online searches. I felt more and more disconnected from FA, and after a stressful conversation about my weight with my sponsor, I took a bite of anger, then fear, and finally, food. That was the saddest day of my 20s. No one could take the pain of the binge away. I made calls. I talked with my parents. I talked with God. I felt horrible.

That binge was a personal breaking point for me. Something released in my spirit that day. God had given me another chance to get abstinent. Suddenly at that turning point, I realized that if I put my recovery in FA first, everything would work out the way God wanted it to. My recovery finally took priority in my heart.

As days turned into weeks, months, and into more than six years of abstinence, I see more and more of my FA fellows embrace this way of life, and it becomes easier to rely on my faith in God to understand how this program works.

I still hold my moment of desperation inside of me and try to relive it every time I am tempted to veer away into some momentary pleasure like food, money, work, or getting overly busy—things that look great at the time, but only bring pain at the end. The break I had still motivates me to work the FA program the way I do today. My life depends on my maintaining a happy and purposeful abstinence.