Early on, food was a great comfort to me.

Big, scary things like divorce, family arguments, moving, and changing schools left me feeling frightened of the future. I leaned on food to help get me out of my head—out of that constant worry about the present and the unknown. But I also used food when things were going really well. It turned into a problem when I became overweight and eventually obese as a child. Wanting to fit in, I went on my first diet at a pretty young age.

My mind was filled with fantasies about how life was going to be so much better when … That was the great lie my mind repeated over and over again, “Once you get to this weight or body size, then your life will be great.” Or, “You’ve got to get this food to feel better.” Everything else faded away under the weight of those thoughts.

I tried so many things to get control of my eating and fix myself—years and years of therapy (in different styles, for depression and anxiety), dietitians, Weight Watchers, personal trainers, books on health, energy healing, hypnosis, spirituality… on and on. These things would seem to work for a while, but eventually, I’d pick up again and compulsively eat.

I’d ask myself over and over again, “Why am I doing this?” I was sure that if I just unpacked my past deeply enough in therapy—if I dealt with trauma, whether known or hidden—that would finally fix me. Nope. Surely, gaining more knowledge about how to eat and exercise would do it. Nope!

Years ago, at the suggestion of a therapist, I joined a 12-step program for compulsive eating. What a relief to hear that other people used food the same way I did! I tried some of the common approaches—trying to control and manage food, avoiding problem foods, and slowly working the 12 steps with a sponsor. They didn’t work for me. But I’m not sorry I tried—experience is the best teacher.

Eventually, I met people in CCEA who were working the 12 steps for compulsive eating in a different way. I was taught that for the chronic compulsive eater, the only effort needed is working the steps. I didn’t have to worry about the food—it would take care of itself after I got recovered. I was also told I needed to work the steps quickly, out of the Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous, in order to recover. These were radical ideas I had never heard before—and they were very attractive, because my past efforts weren’t working.

I asked someone to sponsor me, followed her directions, and worked the steps swiftly. Once I recovered, I was amazed to find that the desire to reach for food—just to get through the day or cope with life—was simply… gone. I wanted to hold on to that.
My sponsor reminded me, “You are recovered, not cured.” That means if I want to continue responding sanely and normally around food and my body, I have to put as much effort into my recovery as I once did into my illness. That’s a lot of time! But after doing the work long enough, it became second nature—and to my surprise, I’ve come to truly enjoy working Steps 10–12 daily.
Now, I get to be helpful to others in a unique and meaningful way. Contributing to life is where I get my high—not from the bottom of a bag or box. Living recovered means being open to learning and growing, owning up to my mistakes, and stepping outside my comfort zone. I’m amazed by how many things I can do today that I never would have had the courage to do before. That’s because God is doing for me what I could not do for myself.

Step 1 says I am powerless. That’s my problem. So I needed to tap into Power—that’s the solution. If I want to keep experiencing peace and freedom, I need to work for it by doing the steps and staying tapped into that power.

Today, I’m a much better friend, coworker, wife, sister, and more because I work this program. My happiness is no longer ruled by my clothing size, my weight, or even by what’s happening in my life. My happiness comes from God, from doing the work of this program, staying connected to God’s power, and doing the next right thing. That’s it!

This program really is simple. It’s also quite miraculous.