110. Courage to Change

I was born two months early, weighing just 3.5 pounds, and from the start, life felt like an uphill climb. My mother couldn’t nurse me due to complications, and I never got the kind of nurturing I longed for. My first "drug" was my thumb, which I sucked well into high school – a secret sedative that calmed me. Food became my next source of solace. By the time I was 3, my parents were worried enough to take me to a pediatrician after finding me eating cold spaghetti straight from the fridge. They were determined to control my eating, weighing me daily and taking me to diet doctors – even giving me a calorie counter in first grade. None of it worked. As I got older, I tried to fill the emptiness with sex, drugs, and rock & roll, more therapy, and constant "geographical cures" – from art school to cross-country road trips. As an activist in the 1960s who cared deeply about the world, some major events broke my heart and seemed like too much to handle. Food was always there, comforting me when nothing else could. In my 40s, I quit smoking, and with no other crutch, my weight spiraled out of control. In 1993, I found Food Addicts in Recovery Anonymous (FA). Skeptical but desperate, I prayed for help, and something shifted. With the support of my sponsor, I found abstinence and, for the first time, peace. Slowly, as the food cravings disappeared, I discovered joy, faith, and love. I married a man who is perfect for me; he appreciates my recovery, and our love keeps growing. I’m living a life I never imagined, free from food addiction and forever grateful.

 

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