A Year to Remember(79)

At ten the next morning, I sat inside of my car in front of the church, gathering the courage to attend my first Overeaters Anonymous meeting. I didn’t want to be the first one in the meeting, but I also didn’t want to walk in late. I pretended to talk on my cell phone as I waited and watched the people entering the church. I couldn’t identify if they were churchgoers or there for the meeting. I decided that was a good sign and started to make my way to the church.

How ironic that I had to go to church for an OA meeting.

I walked into the church and made my way up the stairs, following a sign that directed me to the meeting. My palms were sweaty and I felt the beginnings of an anxiety attack. I paused in front of the door, took a deep breath, and walked into a room filled with strangers.

Fifteen men and women sat in a circle. Some sat on chairs and some sat on couches, all with a little blue book on their laps. I kept my eyes on the floor and found an empty chair. When I finally lifted my gaze to the people in the room, one pair of familiar eyes welcomed me.

Alison, my friend from the Israel trip, smiled and gave me a small wave of her hand in greeting.

She sat with a binder in front of her and I figured out she was running the meeting.

“Hi, I’m Alison and I’m a recovering anorexic, bulimic, and compulsive overeater.”

Everyone responded by saying “Hi, Alison, welcome.” They recited something called the serenity prayer and started reading from a story in the Big Book. I became confused when the story was about an alcoholic. I thought we were supposed to be talking about food, not alcohol.

As we read the story, I discovered the person in the story and I shared several characteristics. We both isolated ourselves from the world around us, while using a substance to make us feel better.

Only it didn’t. We ended up feeling worse than we had before.

But we didn’t want to stop.

Then, we couldn’t stop.

After the reading, people shared their thoughts and feelings and talked about what it was like for them. One young man spoke about stopping at the gas station every morning before work and every night after work to pick up junk food to binge. A woman in her seventies claimed a twenty year abstinence from compulsive overeating, maintaining a seventy pound weight release.

I didn’t quite comprehend everything they were saying, but I got the gist of it. These people were like me.

For the first time, I could be honest about my secret habits without anyone judging me or holding me in contempt. They understood what it was like to be a compulsive overeater.

I was a compulsive overeater.

The meeting ended with another prayer and then people asked me if I wanted a hug. I’m not a very touchy, feely person, but I would feel badly if I refused, so I let them hug me. Then Alison came over to me and gave me a hug. I couldn’t let go. I felt the tears start, and I couldn’t stop them.

She sat me on the couch and rubbed my back, letting me cry. Someone came over and handed me a box of tissue. I guess this wasn’t unusual.

“I’m sorry,” I sobbed. “The last time you saw me I was crying and now I’m crying again. You must think I’m weak.” I blew my nose in the tissue and tried to compose myself.

She smiled and handed me another tissue. “I don’t think you’re weak. I’m glad you’re here. Welcome home,” she said, which started me on another crying jag.

“What does that mean?” I asked between sniffs.

“It means you’ve found your way to people that can understand you and support you. Kind of like a family. What did you think of the meeting?” She settled back onto the couch, indicating she wasn’t in any rush.

“I could relate. I’m definitely a compulsive overeater. I don’t know if I can do this whole Higher Power thing.”

I could do the First Step and admit I was addicted to food and that my life had become unmanageable. My life had fallen apart and the only thing I knew to do was binge to dull the pain. I had no clue how to deal with my life or make a decision for myself.

I didn’t believe in a Higher Power anymore. After all, where had my belief in God’s plan gotten me this year? I believed if I worked hard enough, God would grant me my greatest desire-to find and marry my soul mate. Instead, I’m in love with someone who clearly cannot be my soul mate. If he was, he’d want to marry me.

“A Higher Power can be God or Mother Nature or even the people in OA. You don’t have to believe in God to be in the program.”

“How can I believe in God anymore? Look at my life, Alison. All I wanted was to find my beshert. Instead, I have less than I had before I ever made the damned toast. I’ve lost Adam and I’ve lost Missy! What God would make me suffer this way?” It surprised me how much anger poured out as I railed against the greatness of my so-called Higher Power.