CHAPTER THREE:
He lifted me out of the pit of despair, out of the mud and the mire. He set my feet on solid ground and steadied me as I walked along. (Psalm 40:2, New Living Translation)
Sparks of Light
Carl was recovering one day at a time. It was a miracle. He learned how to live without alcohol. I watched him with amazement as I continued my search. The days and months rolled by. Hopeless and helpless, I was as desperate as the dying can be.
In lieu of eating yet another bite of whatever, I grabbed the Sunday newspaper and scanned the classified section for feasible options. A 12-step program caught my eye. Nervously I dialed the number. The phone rang what seemed like fifteen hundred times. Finally a soft-spoken woman answered. I asked if she would send me the diet. I explained that meetings might not work for me. It was hard getting out of the house, leaving the kids and all. I remember her gentle chuckle as she replied, “This program does not promote any food plans.” She graciously offered to send me some information. Two days later my newcomer packet arrived, along with a questionnaire. My very first inventory looked something like this. (15 Questions, Copyright l986. Reprinted by permission from the publisher).
1. Do you eat when you’re not hungry?
Yes, I eat for other reasons—anxiety, frustration, boredom and the like.
2. Do you go on eating binges for no apparent reason?
Some of my binges are not planned. Most of my binges are not planned. I make a decision to have a small, reasonable portion (two cookies or a candy bar); my one or two pieces become four, then six, then eight until the whole bag or box disappears. I know in my head I need to stop. I want to stop, but I continue to raid the cabinets searching for more food. Feeling like a failure, I think, “ I might as well continue to eat today. Tomorrow I will start my diet.” I pray for the ability to stop as I consume whatever I can find, the better quality foods first, then whatever appeases my appetite for the moment. Nothing satisfies my hunger. I go into a trance. I have absolutely no control.
3. Do you have feelings of guilt and remorse after overeating?
I feel like a failure. I should be able to control my eating. Why can’t I stop eating? It makes no sense to me.
4. Do you give too much time and thought to food?
I think of food all the time. I am forever trying to control my diet. Plus, it seems all our fun times are planned around food. For me, special foods are associated with different events—ice cream, fried dough and fudge at the beach or S’mores and popcorn by the fire at a campground or hot chocolate with marshmallows and doughnuts at a winter outing.
5. Do you look forward with pleasure and anticipation to the time when you can eat alone?
I love to eat alone. When my husband has to work late or has an evening meeting to attend, I set up my plan for the night. I wait until the boys are in bed and begin my rendezvous with the food: an elaborate dinner and an extraordinary dessert. More times than not, it leads into an explosive free-for-all binge.
6. Do you plan these secret binges ahead of time?
Whenever I find a new diet, I need a day to prepare. I eat all the things that I will “never have again.” I also give myself permission to enjoy special days or a holiday season or wonderful vacations.
7. Do you eat sensibly before others and make up for it alone?
I can make a good impression by eating reasonable portions in front of people. It is embarrassing to be overweight and overeating. In a stressful situation or even a celebration, my mind is rushing to the reward coming. Alone I can enjoy my food.
8. Is your weight affecting the way you live your life?
Dad refers to me as “happy go lucky.” The truth is I am not happy. Most assuredly my weight is affecting my life. I should not feel so distraught. I have a nice home, a husband who loves and supports the family and two wonderful children whom I adore.
Carl and I have had our difficulties, but we are okay. I know it is God’s will for me to be a responsible, loving parent and a caring wife. I am successful most of the time; however, I could be kind and loving one minute, when I am in control of my food and having a “good” day on my diet, and then on a “bad” day, I am like another person—some eccentric lunatic. My poor husband and children are ignored or worse, I get angry. I start banging cabinet doors and complaining about everything and everybody.
By the grace of God, I have the ability to save most of my overeating until late evenings. Then I can refrain from hurting the people I love. I am alone with my food. The only victim for my abusive thoughts and actions is myself. Outside the home, when I am obliged to attend a social affair or a sporting event, I sit somewhere hoping to remain unnoticed. I am ashamed of my size and my lack of grace. I waddle when I walk. I fear people judging me, as I am judging them—fat is ugly. Thin is beautiful. I would prefer staying home where I am safe and secure in my private little world.
9. Have you tried to diet for a week (or longer), only to fall short of your goals?
I have been successful at times for a week or more, but never long-term. I give up and go back to my normal eating habits. Maybe I need to accept myself as a fat person. Some people say I am big boned. I see overweight women on television who are happy. They say, “Big is beautiful.” I don’t agree. Thin is beautiful. It is my hope, my dream and my vision to be thin.
10. Do you resent others telling you to “use a little willpower” to stop overeating?
I want to yell and scream, “I AM TRYING TO USE WILLPOWER.” I get angry and then embarrassed that people can see my problem.
11. Despite evidence to the contrary, have you continued to assert that you can diet “on your own” whenever you wish?
I keep trying, but I haven’t been able to diet, with or without the help of diet programs, in a very long time. Something is wrong with me—in no time, my mind strays off the goal, I lose sight of my vision and I overeat.
12. Do you crave to eat at a definite time, day or night, other than mealtime?
I think of eating all the time, but the desire is more intense mid-afternoons, when the children are napping, and late evenings, after my boys are settled in bed. I like to eat when I finally sit down and relax.
13. Do you eat to escape from worries or trouble?
I do not intentionally eat to escape from my troubles, but I do find myself overeating when I am worried. It seems to be a natural reaction for me.
14. Have you ever been treated for obesity or a food-related condition?
I have gone to doctors and nutritionists for help. Each time I was given a new and improved diet, and I was instructed to practice self-control. Maybe I need a psychologist—a doctor to help me handle my emotions. Maybe then I could control my overeating.
15. Does your eating behavior make you or others unhappy?
My eating behavior makes me very unhappy, and my family is affected by my low self-esteem. I am hurting myself, but I cannot stop. I don’t know how to stop. I know God loves me and wants me to be happy. Why do I keep overeating when it makes me so unhappy? What is wrong with me? Something is definitely wrong with me.
Shine Little Glow Worm
Passing the test with flying colors, I qualified for the title, “Compulsive Overeater.” It was an easy mark—A+, no doubt in my mind. I could have asked more questions or attended a meeting listed in the packet of information, but instead I harbored resentment and anger. For months I blamed my upbringing, my husband and my circumstances for my sorry state of affairs. Mixed-up and confused, I continued my efforts to control my diet. I continued to fail. In time I gave up.
Sobbing into my pillow after another awful day of overeating, I made the decision to attend a meeting “for curiosity’s sake.” Being an instigator and a saleswoman by nature, I dragged my cousin and my best friend along for the ride. They were eating buddies and diet-minded like me. It was an easy sale—a miracle cure. We all wanted to be thin, but had no idea how to stop overeating. Anxious for help, we found a meeting the next day. It was conveniently located at a local church hall.
I welcomed Saturday. The sun shone brightly through the beautiful blue sky. I gathered the troops and drove to the meeting. We walked into the building and followed the signs for the meeting location. As always I led the way. At the far corner of a huge hall people were arranging metal folding chairs in a circle. One of the stout women sauntered across the room to greet us. I assumed she could tell by our sizes that we were looking for a diet group. We introduced ourselves and settled into some seats close to the door. She smiled politely and whispered, “You have come to the right place.”
Taking an unofficial head count, there were maybe twelve to fifteen men and women in the group, mostly young and middle-aged adults representing a wide scope of shapes and sizes. Some were bone thin, some were grossly obese and some were normal sized, appearing pretty healthy. That’s what I want. I wish that I could be normal sized and healthy.
The meeting opened with the Serenity Prayer. My mother loved that prayer. She would mumble it whenever she needed help. It was like a quick release switch to soften life’s dilemmas.
God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference. (Reinhold Niebuhr)
Peace, acceptance, courage and wisdom…how do I apply that to my overeating? I listened intently as the men and women talked about the changes that had occurred since joining the program. The most prevalent message was “I stopped compulsively overeating by practicing the program. Just like the recovering alcoholic stops drinking, I do it one day at a time.” I was intrigued. My friends, on the other hand, were not pleased. I could tell they were disenchanted the moment we walked into that musty church basement. They wiggled in their seats, looked at me, looked at their watches every few minutes and looked at me again. Their unspoken words were written across their scowling faces, “Why did you bring us here?”
The meeting closed with the Lord’s Prayer. I gathered some pamphlets from the literature table, and we left without saying a word to anyone. On the way out the door my companions laughed at the “sick people” and vowed never to return. Feeling embarrassed by my own sickness, I remained silent. I needed to return. My life was at stake.
Glimmer, Glimmer
At home I read and reread my pamphlets. In my dreams I was one of those thin, healthy-looking women. Although I could not imagine life without occasionally overeating, I was ready to attend my second meeting. This time I traveled alone. As I entered the church hall, a kind-looking rather plump woman recognized me from the week before. She smiled meekly and said, “Welcome back.” I felt an immediate bond as her sad eyes met mine. She told me about her week. I told her about mine. We were both out-of-control eaters. I had no intention of telling her what I did with food, but as she told me her tragic tale, it was easy to tell her my equally disheartening turn of events. We were like sisters, two peas in a pod. We smiled in hopeful anticipation as the beautiful speaker-of-the-day began her talk.
She was not an eloquent speaker by any means, nor was she particularly happy. As I saw it, she was just like me—crazy—always thinking about food and her weight, but there was a difference—a big difference—she was thin and was no longer overeating. The woman said, “Get a sponsor who has what you want and ask how she is achieving it.” She looked good to me. After the meeting I bravely approached her. “Please, can you help me?”
She peered at me, acted rather perturbed and said, “Are you sure you are ready to give up sugar?” Evading the question, I explained that I was a newcomer to the program, but I was an informed dieter. I asked, “Could I follow a diet from Weight Watchers or Diet Workshop?” Disgruntled, she said either diet could work if I carefully refrained from sugar. I overlooked her unpleasant attitude and agreed sugar was certainly a problem for me.
After an anxious moment and a sigh, she apologized for her inconsiderate behavior and explained that she had a full plate. Many people called her during the day at prearranged times to commit their food. She seemed to force a smile and said, “Okay, we’ll try it. Call me at 8 A.M. tomorrow, and tell me what you are going to eat for the day.
Driving home I felt as if a giant boulder had been lifted off my shoulders. I had someone who was helping me. I had a group of people helping me. I was not alone anymore. The sun felt warmer, the sky seemed bluer and life seemed better. A revelation hit me. It was a spiritual awakening of sorts. Twelve-step programs work because people share from the heart of experience. What a simple concept. Thank you, God. My sponsor person might not be the most pleasant woman in the world, but whatever she is doing works for her. That’s good enough for me.
As I was nearing home, I wondered what to tell Carl. I was afraid of his reaction to yet another dieting scheme. He had already witnessed so many new diets, so many hopes and dreams and so many failures. My fear kept me silent. He didn’t need to know the details. The proof would speak for itself. I quietly rummaged through my books and decided on a diet. I jotted down my intended plan for the next day. It was a funny state of mind; I was happy to have found my answer, but I was afraid. No more cookies, no more cakes, no more cookie dough or frosting? It only made sense to eat all the things I would never be able to eat again. I was kissing my goodies good-bye, so to speak. Although I knew I would feel physically full, it seemed okay this time. My life was going to change.
Starlight, Starbright
The next day I awoke eager to begin. I called my sponsor and told her what I was planning to eat for the day. Program jargon confused me. The word “abstinent” was in every sentence. I asked, “What does it mean to be abstinent?” “It is simple,” she said, “Abstinence is refraining from compulsive overeating. When people say they have been abstinent for a year, it means they have followed their diet every single day for a whole year.” That amazed me. How could anyone go a whole year without sugar? That would be a miracle for me. She went on to say that a sponsor is the person who helps you get started. She tells you what to do to achieve abstinence.
I was ready to receive my instructions: “Read a daily meditation book for addicts,” and call other people who are in program. Ask them how they stay “out of the food.” It was all new terminology. “We don’t eat one day at a time.” I asked, “What do you mean you don’t eat?” She said, “We eat what we plan and nothing else. Some people do a 301 meal plan—three meals a day with nothing in between, except water or black coffee, one day at a time.” My sponsor believed in a less restrictive approach. Any diet without sugar was fine. Nutritionally it made sense to me. We were off to a good start.
“Get a pencil and paper,” she commanded. “I want you to jot down some telephone numbers. Keep them on the side of the refrigerator for easy reference.” This woman knew lots of people and all their telephone numbers by heart. “You need to hear about compulsive overeating and how to stop when you get too hungry, angry, lonely or tired.” She said, “We need to halt. Remember that word.” The phone call concluded with one more question. “Can you make a commitment to attend a meeting every Saturday morning?” I told her I would try. “It might be difficult because my husband works a lot, and I have two small children.” She understood and told me to go if I could.
It was Sunday morning, around 9 A.M., when I hung up the phone. Amazingly enough everyone in the house was still sleeping. Although I felt leery calling strangers, I had agreed to call one person sometime during the day. I took advantage of the free time and called the first person on my list. The first call went well. I felt compelled to call the next person and continued until I had called every person on my list. It was a new fun experience. People wanted to talk. They seemed happy to have gotten my call. Strangers wanted to help me. I sat in awe…all this advice was free...people helped people, just because people had helped them.
Somehow I stayed on my diet for days, weeks and months. My weight dropped steadily, and I gathered strength, wisdom and understanding as I avoided sugar one day at a time. I learned to redirect my compulsive nature to helping other sick and suffering overeaters. I made phone calls, encouraged people and never said, “I can’t help you.” I had the answer—people helping people. Without sugar, it was easy to diet.
All That Glitters is Not Gold
Many people walked into our meeting never to return. It broke my heart. I had been given an extra measure of compassion for the discouraged overeater. My family and job sat on the back burner at this stage of my life. When the phone rang, I talked. I had a mission—save all the compulsive overeaters who needed help. Faithfully I attended the Saturday meeting. I shared my success story each week.
Being bold and outspoken, my reputation went before me: “She’s a know-it-all.” It fit me. My big-shot attitude kept me hopping from sponsor to sponsor. (I did not listen well, and I already had the answers.) I felt that I had done my homework—my personal dieting experience, plus the oodles of books about nutrition that I had read, made me an expert, or so I thought. I was certainly a whiz at food exchanges and calories.
As I continued in the program, my harshness softened, and I became a desirable sponsor. Knowing about nutrition was helpful in leading people to a healthy food plan. The list of people that I sponsored was long, too long. Coming from extremely low self-esteem, I reveled in being good at something.
Gradually I forgot about taking care of myself. I didn’t have time to talk about me. I was busy helping everyone else. At one point I was relieved when my “sponsor of the week” ate and decided to leave the program. I made the decision to sponsor myself. Why not? I was successful and I was thin. My sick thinking told me that my time would be better spent sponsoring other people. I was fine.
Without a sponsor it was easy to make exceptions to the rules. I ate more than my plan allowed, usually additional protein, potato or rice. I forgave myself each time and decided I could not be perfect. I did not want to be perfect.
People talked about different food plans. Some people were successfully doing a food plan that sounded dreadful to me—“The Gray Sheet.” I supposed that the original plan of eating must have been printed on a gray sheet of paper. It was a food plan that eliminated all grains. It certainly didn’t appeal to me. I liked my grains and I couldn’t imagine life without them. I ate oatmeal for breakfast; at lunch and dinner I ate rice cakes, baked potato or some rice. I avoided bread because it was too fluffy. Although somewhere along the line I made the decision that diet bread would be okay. It was an easy option. In time I went to a nutritionist for more ideas. She suggested that a bagel or a muffin might add some variety. We discussed my goal to avoid sugar. She understood how junk food could be detrimental to my health, but convinced me that bagels and muffins were healthy exchanges.
One day I said, “Okay, I will buy some corn muffins.” I had avoided sugar for nine months, but how much sugar could there be in one corn muffin? Empowered and confident, I felt the health factor would benefit me. It would be fine. I knew how to stay on my diet. I was abstinent from sugar, I was thin and I looked good. I can do this. A corn muffin is a healthy food. I’ll be fine.
The big day came. I ate my corn muffin and I felt like a hero. Three days later I bought six corn muffins and ate them in the car on the way home from the store. I was shocked at how fast the familiar pattern of compulsive overeating, followed by stringent dieting, returned. Embarrassed, I attended fewer meetings. Quietly sitting in my chair, my face revealed my pain. I lost my status and became a seeker once more.
I tried and tried to follow the same diet. I could do it for a few days, sometimes a week or a month, but then I would binge once more. Two years passed. I searched for the answer. People at the meetings told me that I had fallen off my pink cloud. Others told me I was doing more research. I was doing more pain, more compulsive overeating. People often say, “There is nothing worse than a belly full of food and a head full of program.”
Follow the Yellow Brick Road
Somberly I waited for the meeting to begin. Empty and alone, I hung my head in shame. What is wrong with me? I cannot make it through one day on my diet. A tear trickled down my cheek. Lord, please show me the way. I am so tired. The day before my mother died, she was heavy-hearted and discouraged. She looked to the sky and reminisced. A comforting verse came to mind.
Jesus said, “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” (Matthew 11:28, New International Version)
Please, Lord, help me. What do You want me to do?
A radiant young woman volunteered to lead the meeting. Hope glistened in my heart when she described her transformed life. My heart skipped a beat when she explained her food plan—absolutely no sugar or flour. She boldly proclaimed, “Sugar and flour are equally dangerous for me as a food addict.” (The refinement process of whole grains increases the absorption rate of these foods into the bloodstream. Only a tad slower than sugar, flour affects the serotonin levels in the brain. That’s why we feel like sleeping after a binge of highly refined carbohydrates. Serotonin acts like a tranquilizer, a painkiller and an escape from life.)* She continued to say, “I want recovery more than I want any food.”
I froze for a moment—does not compute—I could not comprehend that ghastly thought…no flour? I cringed. My heart ached. My mind spun in search of logic. I wanted to deny the validity of such drastic measures. Come on, Lord, flour, too? Flour is healthy. My nutritionist told me breads and pastas are good foods. My future was grim. I could not imagine life without flour—my muffins, my bagels, my “healthy” foods. I asked for an answer…some other answer…
God whispered in my ear, “Can you do it for one day?” I stopped grumbling. Maybe, just maybe, recovery is more complicated than I thought. Flour could be addictive. Sugar is certainly a problem for me. It was a gruesome thought, but I was tired of living a miserable life. Gloom and doom had followed me for a very long time. This woman had celebrated five years of abstinence. She was thin and she was happy. She had a calm delight—an aura of godliness. I wanted that peace.
She volunteered to sponsor one new person, one serious person. She only helped people looking for serious recovery. I was desperate and I was tired of doing things my way. It didn’t work. I remembered my first spiritual awakening months before—12-steppers share from the heart of experience. This profound experience birthed my second spiritual awakening—recovering food addicts avoid sugar and flour. My first phase in program was a diet. I had listened to Weight Watchers logic. I had gotten thin, looked successful and I felt good for a while. A diet is only a diet. Food addiction relates to specific foods known to set up cravings in the body of an addict. God wanted me to understand the severity of the disease and the power of His help.
Jesus Gave Me a Sunbeam
“Please, let me be the one.” Her twinkling eyes met my pleading spirit. She said, “That would be wonderful.” My heart rejoiced. Thank you, God. It was as if a beam of sunshine landed on my shoulders and radiated its warmth all the way to my soul. My life changed as my wellspring of knowledge disappeared.
I surrendered my will—my wants, my intellect and my perceived know-how to her. She understood the intricacies of food addiction. She set the guidelines beginning with my diet. She gave me the basic plan that had been passed down the line of sponsors. The bottom line was absolutely no sugar and flour. She emphasized dependence on God.
“A successful life-changing program is more than following a food plan, so much more. It is a relationship with God.” She said that my new life would start with self-control around my food, then God would use that experience to give me courage, strength and confidence to apply the 12-step principles in all my affairs. It was yet another awakening—addiction recovery is a lifestyle change beyond getting thin. The 12-Step program is the map to lasting recovery.
“If you want what I have, do what I do.” The rule still applied. “Quiet time is the most important time of the day.” She told me to pray and meditate for thirty minutes in the morning. “It is the most important thing.” She continued to explain that her program was modeled from Alcoholics Anonymous. “They work a life or death program. Alcohol is not an option for a recovering alcoholic, just like eating sugar and flour is not an option for a recovering food addict.”
She told me that the Big Book is the resource for addiction recovery. It is tried and true. “Read it each day, one page at a time, starting with The Doctor’s Opinion. Then I want you to read page 449, the page on acceptance, and page 83, the promises of the program.”
We are going to know a new freedom and a new happiness. We will not regret the past nor wish to shut the door on it. (Alcoholics Anonymous, Third Edition, page 83)
She mentioned matter-of-factly that it might seem like a lot of work, but we need to put as much into our recovery as we put into our overeating. I must have looked dumbfounded—wide-eyed and opened-mouthed. It was fear—fear of failure or was it fear of success? I had a Big Book, but had never read it from cover to cover, only bits and pieces now and then, usually to help me to understand Carl’s problem.
She asked if I was still willing. “Do you want to rise above your addiction once and for all?” I nodded sheepishly making every attempt to hold back my tears and whimpered, “For one day at a time, right?” Her whole face smiled. She sweetly touched my hand. “Yes, dear, it is just one day at a time. Sometimes it’s one hour, one minute, one second at a time.” My oppression lifted. Love flowed into my veins.
She continued to give me my instructions. “I want you to read the daily meditation from the Twenty-Four Hours a Day Book published by Hazelden. People call it ‘the little black book.’” She told me to thank God for yesterday, ask Him for help today and paraphrase the first three steps in simple terms, “I am powerless over food, people, places and things. God can help me. I will let Him by turning my will and my life over to His care today.” Then I was told to memorize the third-step prayer. “Say it whenever you feel like overeating. Learn one line at a time until it is an automatic response to a food thought.”
God I offer myself to Thee—to build with me and do with me as Thou wilt. Relieve me of the bondage of self, that I may better do Thy will. Take away my difficulties, that victory over them may bear witness to those I would help of Thy power, Thy love, and Thy Way of Life. May I do Thy will always! (Alcoholics Anonymous, Third Edition, page 63)
Her final words encouraged me the most, “I’ll pray for you and you pray for me.” This was a new ball game, so to speak. I was ready to hit a home run. On July 23, l988, new life started to emerge. I had more than hope. I had skills to succeed one day at a time. I envisioned a caterpillar growing inside his cocoon. One day it would fly away as a beautiful butterfly—free at last.
Dawn’s Early Light
The alarm rang. It was 6 A.M., my first day of abstinence. I fell to my knees and prayed for the willingness to see and do God’s will. I gathered my books and read my page of the Big Book, The Doctor’s Opinion. I was awestruck. My mind and heart saw the doctor’s words cleverly confirming my personal revelations—for me as a food addict, excess food, sugar and flour are just like alcohol is to the alcoholic.
The only relief we have to suggest is entire abstinence. (Alcoholics Anonymous, Third Edition, page xxviii)
Okay, Lord, I get it. I am not weird or crazy. I have a disease. I have a sickness. I need my medicine. I need to abstain from sugar, flour and excessive quantities, and I need to depend on You, Lord, for help. I know this is the truth. There is no other way for me. I tried it all. This is the end of the line—life or death. I choose life.
My friends and family members continued to coerce me into believing a little self-control was my cure. Acceptance of myself as a food addict, with all its peculiarities, was necessary. People do not need to understand the intricacies of the addicted body and mind, but the addict needs a sure foundation of the truth. Namely, we are different from the normal eater, and it is okay. We have a disease.
…The delusion that we are like other people, or presently may be, has to be smashed… (Alcoholics Anonymous, Third Edition, page 30.)
I made a commitment to do an in-depth study of the Twelve Steps with a group of serious, abstinent people, and I continued to read the Big Book to gain more understanding about the cunning and baffling aspects of addiction. I directed my attention to my attitudes, my responses and my responsibilities. I stopped blaming people, places and things for my trials and tribulations. I found strength and wisdom in understanding God’s will for my life.
Rarely have we seen a person fail who has thoroughly followed our path. Those who do not recover are people who cannot or will not completely give themselves to this simple program… (Alcoholics Anonymous, Third Edition, page 58)
I stood at the threshold of my new life. My impression of the steps was basic, but powerful. God opened my eyes to dig deeper as I got stronger.
Step one: We admitted we were powerless over our food addiction—that our lives had become unmanageable.
I admitted that I was out of control. No matter how hard I tried, I could not stop overeating. In 12-step halls, I heard, “self-will run riot.” My overeating was destroying my health and my relationships with family, friends and even God. I was spiraling downhill fast. My life was falling apart.
Step two: Came to believe that a power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity
I believed in God’s love and His ability to restore me, but I needed to learn new coping skills. Therefore, the “power greater than myself” was the group of people who were living free from food obsession and overeating one day a time. I was hopeful. What God did for them, He could do for me.
Step three: Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God as we understood Him.
I gave up. “Let go and let God” is the slogan that goes hand-in-hand with this step. I let go of my old way of doing things, and I started listening, learning and living in the solution. IE: I became a dedicated and committed 12-stepper. Practicing the tools became an integral part of my life. Meetings, phone calls, literature—especially reading the Big Book—committing my food plan to a sponsor, love and service, anonymity, writing were all instrumental in my forward surge. When I turned my will and my life over to God, my whole world changed—physically, emotionally and spiritually.
Step four: Made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves.
Initially, the fifteen questions from the newcomer’s kit revealed my sorry state of affairs. When I committed to 12-step work, I kept my secrets, thoughts and feelings in a daily journal.
Step five: Admitted to God, to ourselves, and to another human being the exact nature of our wrongs.
God and I knew that I had problems. That was easy. The hard part was admitting to another person that I had a warped relationship with food. I talked to my cousin and my friend, which was a beginning. In program, I talked to friends at meetings and on the telephone, and I talked to my new sponsor. I soon learned that I was not alone.
Step six: Were entirely ready to have God remove all these defects of character.
In Step Six, the head connects to the heart. My head had to be convinced that my heart knew best. I wanted to follow God (my heart), but my self-control and defiant nature were deeply rooted in my dysfunctional lifestyle (my head).
Step seven: Humbly asked Him to remove our shortcomings.
I became willing to say, “I can’t, You can, Please help me, God.”
Step eight: Make a list of all persons we had harmed and became willing to make amends to them all.
My husband and my boys were first on my list, plus myself. Yes, there were others, but I couldn’t see beyond my immediate family until I cleaned up my side of the street at home.
Step nine: Made direct amends to such people wherever possible, except when to do so would injure them or others.
I faced my fears and apologized to Carl for all the selfish, self-centered ways that I put food before his needs. Dan and Joe were young children, but I sat them down and asked their forgiveness. It was simple-stated truth at a level that they understood. The hardest person to face was myself. Acceptance that I was not perfect, and I would never be perfect this side of heaven, was an incredible revelation for me. The act of seeking forgiveness and being forgiven lightened my heart and brought me an element of peace that I had never known before.
Step ten: Continued to take personal inventory, and when we were wrong promptly admitted it.
I worked the program one day at a time. Praying for God’s will, I practiced the tools to the best of my ability. At the end of each day, I got on my knees again and reviewed my day. I asked God what I needed to do in order to stay free (physically, emotionally and spiritually). If I lost my temper, made a snide remark or acted inappropriate in some way during the day, I’d apologize. Verbal utterance was good, but amending the behavior for the future was better. My relationship with God improved each time I called on His ever-available help.
Step eleven: Sought through prayer and meditation to improve our conscious contact with God as we understood Him, praying only for knowledge of His will for us and the power to carry that out.
Prayer is asking. Meditating is listening. My conversations with God increased when I surrendered to the disease. What choice did I have? Alone I could do nothing. It didn’t take long for me to realize that with God I could do what seemed impossible. My humble prayers worked.
Step twelve: Having had a spiritual awakening as the result of these steps, we tried to carry this message to food addicts, and to practice these principles in all our affairs.
I carried the torch. God blessed me with an amazing gift—freedom from compulsive overeating and food obsession. It was a miracle of sorts. Sharing my experience, strength and hope was a privilege and a joy.