Welcome to this qualification meeting. I am a food addict from Idaho, and I am your leader for this hour.
I’ll start off with my numbers. My top weight was about 165, which is relatively lightweight for FA, but still food addiction. My current weight is about 120. I’m five foot four, and I feel like my numbers don’t really tell my story, and my pictures don’t tell much of my story either. For me, the story is really in my eyes more than my body weight. It was like the light was gone. I used to joke that the eyes are the windows to the soul, and I liked to keep the drapes firmly drawn. I did not want anyone to know anything about me because I hated myself so much that I believed if you knew me at all, you would be just as disgusted and appalled as I was, and want nothing to do with me.
A lot of this disease, for me, was about self-hatred and deep unhappiness. I didn’t like being fat either. I wasn’t massive, but at 165 I was pretty solid. What really tortured me was the mental side of this disease. I wasn’t a food addict from the start, but it certainly developed into food addiction. I didn’t even know what food addiction was for many years.
When I was a kid, food wasn’t that big of a deal. I always loved food, but it wasn’t everything to me the way it became later. As a child, I was one of those more solid kids rather than a stick figure. I never strayed too far from the picnic table. While other kids were out playing without thinking about food, I always kept one eye on where the food was. That focus didn’t change much as I grew up. Food became more and more central.
I was very open about my eating early on. I wasn’t secretive or ashamed at first. Part of that may have been because I grew up with my father, who loved food and had a belly to show for it. We were eating buddies. I wasn’t self-conscious about how I ate. If someone at a restaurant said they were too full or that something was too rich or too sweet, my ears perked up, and I was happy to take it. I didn’t care what people thought. I just wanted the food.
Later on, as the quantities I ate grew larger, my eating went underground. Even with all my bravado, I couldn’t hide my shame forever. Before that, in my late teens, my favorite scenario was a buffet. Free food in a crowd was ideal. I didn’t care how much I disliked the people. I just wanted the food. I learned how to work the buffet table and the room, eating plate after plate while chatting with people I didn’t care about. I had all kinds of rules in my head, like if I was standing or driving while eating, it didn’t count.
As I got older, I didn’t even need company anymore. I remember going to a fancy restaurant with my father and eating so much that I couldn’t fit in all the desserts I wanted. After putting him on the plane, I went back to the restaurant alone and ordered the dessert plate for two and ate it myself. Food meant everything to me. I had different foods for different emotions. Greasy or crunchy foods for anger, flour for sadness, sugar for happiness. Food was emotional. Mostly, it was comfort.
I went to boarding school at a young age. Food wasn’t easily accessible, so I learned to hoard it. My weekly trip to the sweet shop was about survival. I would lay my stash out on my bed and feel a deep sense of relief, knowing I would be okay as long as I had my food. It was my security blanket. Later, smoking became similar. As long as I had what I needed, I felt safe.
I developed a tough persona, a tomboy image. I convinced myself that nothing could hurt me. The food and later the cigarettes propped up that façade. Without them, I don’t know how I would have coped. I came into recovery programs in my twenties and later found FA in my thirties. I learned things I had never learned before, including how to take care of myself, how to ask for help, and how to show up.
One of the ways I know I’m a food addict is by watching people who aren’t. My husband can have food sitting on the counter overnight without touching it. I could never do that. If food was there, I needed it immediately. I wanted lots of it, and I didn’t want to wait.
Today, that obsession has been lifted. Next month, I’ll have twelve years of abstinence, which is an incredible miracle to me. The biggest gift isn’t the weight loss. It’s the freedom from obsession and learning how to live life differently. When I came in, I hated myself and didn’t know how to handle life. I turned to food for everything. Now I turn to a higher power and to the tools of the program.
The voices in my head used to be brutal and cruel. Today, they are kind, loving, and encouraging. I have clarity and relative sanity. I feel contentment. I do work that I love, I have relationships, and I have a life that feels full from the inside out.
This program has changed me from the inside out. I didn’t need a diet. I needed my thinking to change, and that’s what happened here. I’m deeply grateful for the freedom, the growth, and the peace I have today.
I don’t have much more to say. I’m just very grateful to be here. Thank you.