Step 1: We admitted we were powerless over food — that our lives had become unmanageable

Step 1: We admitted we were powerless over food — that our lives had become unmanageable.

1. What is it you say to yourself every time you try to “diet” and fail?

I would tell myself, I was a failure & a mistake. I would berate myself & say I was a huge monster who was just a disgusting excuse for a human being. I would cry because I just didn't understand what was wrong with me. I didn't comprehend why on earth I could not stop eating when I ingested a certain food. I just couldn't wrap my mind around this abnormal behavior with food. I lost all sense when it came to something as innocuous as a candy bar or chip, yet the inoffensive food became extremely destructive to me. I lost control - lost all sense of reasoning.



It didn't make sense to me -- it didn't register @ all how a certain combination of ingredients could turn me into a cruel, vile, unlovable, and intensely out of control human being. I behaved more like a rabid, wild beast!



I didn't grasp how I could have so much knowledge, intellect & common sense about everything else in my sphere, yet lose it all when I ingested something that brought me sheer exhalation & copious pain.



I would also starve myself to counter balance the "extra" calories I consumed. I would eat, starve, eat, starve, eat, starve... to make up for when I did overeat. Eventually, the days & nights of starving & eating became worse & I just started binging & starving for days, so I was able to "have my cake & eat it too". I learned how to purge not too long after. I learned all the tricks to eat, binge, purge, and starve.



I would look @ myself naked in the mirror to gross myself out. I was so disgusted, I wouldn't eat because the image was so ingrained, I would get sick because I was so hideous. I would try on smaller pants & gage my progress by how close I was becoming to slipping in them. It was a way to reward myself for the good job I was doing. I would slip them on & off several times a day, as well as jump off & on the scale to "check my progress".

I would also measure the size of my wrists to gage how I was doing. My disease just loved when I was in so much pain because it wanted nothing from me, but to be energized off my misery. It fed off of my heartache, shame, sadness, loneliness, insecurity, and worthlessness. It wanted to see me die -- it wants to see me die in the grips of COE, whether I am binging, starving or purging, all it wants from me is to suffer a heinous, slow demise.



My head was so filled w/ all of the words my disease kept feeding to it. It is an insatiable ore. It was also fogged from the over indulgences or the lack of nutrition. My head was not clear for a long time. There was some glimpses of clarity, but I was a zombie. I was merely existing -- either starved or gorged. I wanted to "check out" from life & get lost in the disease. Why? It was easier to escape than endure the the ache & suffering of my surroundings.



My soul was screaming for a way out, my spirit was literally on the ground, literally bruised & battered from my COE and my heart was crying for help.



2. What feelings does the thought of powerless & surrender raise in you?



Terror. Anger. Fear. I had to be the one in control. I had to have the "will power" to handle the food & my weight. Purging was my answer to balance the effects from overindulging. If I wasn't the one handling everything & everyone, it wouldn't go the way it was supposed to go -- MY WAY! I didn't feel safe in just "letting go" & trusting because no one knew me, but me. No one could give me what it was I wanted or do what it was I wanted because I had to direct everything & everyone. I was definitely the director in my environment. I didn't like being defenseless. I loathed feeling so exposed. So unprotected. It made me feel unsettled. It was unfamiliar terrain & I enjoyed being the one who was guiding every single thing.



Now, I surrender & feel completely unimpeded. It is as if the weight of the world has been lifted. I can bare my soul & breathe w/o restraints draining me. It is a gift to acquiesce & let God shuttle me around. I don't have to be stressed out & hurt by not having everyone & everything meet my expectations. Having expectations has given me nothing but stress, rage & misery deep in my being -- not to mention tears. Having all of my expectations led me to build walls causing me to lead a secluded life where I only "allow" a certain amount of individuals to come beyond the gates. The fortress was to protect me, but it also damaged me.



3. How will you know when you have taken the first step?



It was a miracle to finally admit I was powerless & not powerless for a short stint -- to get it right. To be done. To surrender knowing my growth, recovery & life takes shape in relinquishing my mendacious thinking.



When I admitted my life was unmanageable, all the bricks I was hauling around was removed from my shoulders by God ( my HP). He decided He was going to take them from me & place them in a wheel barrow to build something nurturing in the sunlight & not something to wither in the dank darkness. How liberating! What a resplendent & graceful gift to not hold on with claw marks & delude myself into thinking that I can handle everything. To have God cradle me & carry me when I am exhausted is a phenomenal blessing. An astonishing revelation of this magnificent program.



If I am veering off into disease territory, God is my G.P.S. ~ God Providing Serenity!



4. What areas of your life are you being dishonest about?



My weight loss. I have a difficult time saying I have released over 150 pounds because I still have more to go to reach my healthy weight goal. It is humiliating to know how enormous I let myself get & to know I was in that much agony shreds my heart. When I stopped purging, the pounds piled on. It was difficult not to do something to compensate the weight gain. When I was purging & starving I wasn't getting as "big". I was able to mask the chunk heaping on because I am curvy, tall & work out. No matter if I put on weight, there is muscle under me -- a lot of muscle. It didn't matter too much if I eat extra because I exercised a lot -- to excess @ times, until exercise bulimia set in.



I am filled with humiliation for the way I let myself go into the clutches of my disease. There are many times, I wish I could pretend I did not pass the 350 mark ... the 375 mark... but that would not only be dishonest, it would be feeding the disease by living in the ligature of denial.



I have come to the place of acceptance. I am aware that my dis ease was the real reason for my COE - NOT ME! I was lost. This is the first time I have been authentic & come to embrace this with rigorous honesty.



5. Is accepting you are powerless mean you are accepting responsibility? Explain.



Yes. I remember reaching for the food @ 9 to freeze the agonizing torment I was experiencing. Growing up in an abusive, cold & dysfunctional home was confusing, terrifying & unbearable. I wanted to eradicate the torture & the only way to do it @ such a young age, was with food. My best friend. My constant side kick. The food was definitely anesthesia. I missed out on a lot of life being in the food, but it was also my saving grace through a rampageous adolescence. It served its purpose @ first, than claimed me to destroy, mutilate & remove me from among the living.




6. What are you willing to do to change your life?



Follow the instructions as it is outlined in the BB. Whatever it takes to recover, I am going to be there doing it. Going into the trenches, if I must. Getting down on my knees to surrender to God. I will say, "Yes, God" & just zip it. My abstinence was just the beginning, my recovery is the vibrant rainbow.




7. One last thing – Write a history of your honesty. Share where you were, what has changed and where are you now? Lastly, how does this all relate to your compulsive overeating.

I didn't want to die because my disease was escalating @ such a rampant pace due to lifting a fork, knife, spoon, cellophane wrapper, a bakery box, a fried package from Mc Death or @ the bottom of a carton.

I was beyond repulsed. I was a wretched individual. My heart was splintered, my spirit wounded, yet my soul wanted to soar above all of the despondency I was ensnared in. I didn't want to become a statistic. I yearned to be healthy again -- healthier than I ever imagined being. I didn't want to succumb to the disease because I was ill @ ease. I wanted to be a participant in my life, not a spectator. No more observing as I murder myself due to the discontentment encasing my universe.

I didn't want to continue "sleeping" through my life anymore by being a zombie due to eating or not eating. The days of being a food specter had to come to an end. Not only was I sick & tired of being sick & tired, I was done.

I knew to heal -- really heal -- I had to confront what was bringing me back to the COE again & again & again. The affliction of being fat was one thing. I've lived the life of a fat girl, a thinner girl, close to "goal" in a diet & calories version of the program girl -- been there... done that. I endured life as a chubby wubby, been called fatso, heard the heart shattering word "obese" to describe me, but all of it paled in comparison to the crippling wretchedness of living life as it was given to me. I didn't want to face life on life's terms because it was not a twinge -- it was torture. Honestly, to know I sustained so much heart wrenching angst, is still sometimes difficult to digest on some days.

I know now that I have to go through it all to heal! I was finally ready to not only endure the heartache, but to thrive while braving through it & come out a healthy survivor. It didn't work before when I was losing not only myself, but my life to the COE. Hiding from my environment by numbing myself w/ the food was not the answer anymore. I knew better, so it was about time I did better. When I did the promises entered my life, miracles happened & life was three dimensional. What a gift to go through it all in God's time. God believed in me & it was about time I listened w/ a gentle, pure & love filled heart instead of the bitter, cold, manipulative, rage filled one my disease presented to me w/ every morsel I inhaled. It was time to listen to Him & believe in me. The fear of the unfamiliar had to be acknowledged. It was. It is nothing short of a miracle. The steps are a gift & it is truly a blessing to be where I am today.

I know to accept is to be free. I accept me as is. I love me as is. I accept my imperfections, my character defects & I accept I can make mistakes without castigating myself, and most of all, without acknowledging I am a mistake.

I am just to say, "Yes, God", "Thank you, God", let go, do the footwork, and get on my knees when I need to reconnect.

For me, to be free is to be rigorously honest no matter how it makes me look or not look to those around me; after all, what other people think is not my business. I need to keep my side of the street clean, trust God & know everything is the way it is supposed to be. It is not my time, my way or me pulling the marionette strings. It is God's schedule. His time frame.

Yes, God... Thank you, God, for the gift of the steps & traditions.

One Before Two

OA Question # 10 (AA Question # 9): Read Step Two in the OA 12 Steps. How is the taking of Step One a necessity before taking Step Two?


I have to admit I am powerless & my life is unmanageable. I can't take step 2 if step 1 hasn't been taken.

I have to not only say I am powerless over food, people, places, things, ideas, feelings... I have to accept that I am w/o a shadow of a doubt POWERLESS!!!

I have to acknowledge that my life is unmanageable due to the insanity of being in the clutches of my disease. To see it, is one thing... to live it & be a part of an unmanageable life is to allow chaos to reign.

I have to surrender – fall on my knees, if I must but I have to truly believe I am POWERLESS over that first bite.

The Knowledge of Step 1

Question 8 (AA Version) Re-read Step One. Discuss & reflect on what the knowledge of Step One can do for you. During your reading underline and note passages that are meaningful to you. Why are they important?

The knowledge that I am powerless over food has given me the gift of freedom, sanity & understanding. I am now able to flourish into the beautiful spirit I was created to be w/o having mud on my wings to weigh me down. No longer do I have to question whether or not I am damaged, defective or nuts because I just “can't stop”.

When I first discovered I was powerless – powerless, imagine that – I was absolutely enlightened by this sage revelation. I received a beautiful gift of tranquility & felt a soothing sense of calm wash over me. No longer did I have to push water up a mountain trying to “fix” whatever it was that made me lose all common sense when it came to a freshly baked brownie or chocolate chip cookie. I knew. Finally! I was exactly the way God wanted me to be but there was a little glitch in my wiring. My hardware was flawed – I was powerless not inferior.


From Alcoholics Anonymous Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions:

Page 21:

“Alcohol now became the rapacious creditor, bleeds us of all self-sufficiency and all will to resist its demands.”

My disease kept absorbing the life right out of me like a blood sucking creature leaving me depleted of energy. My disease also diminished my comprehension due to the paralyzing state my disease. My brain cells were frozen – & some were obviously gulped out.

“We perceive that through utter defeat are we able to we are able to take our first steps toward liberation and strength.”

I had to toss in the proverbial towel & surrender to the harsh, glaring truth that I was not ever going to win anything but a pine box going round for round w/ my disease. It was kicking (not to mention killing) my ass & yet I was deluded enough to believe in my sick, twisted cranium that “this time” I was gonna beat it.

“We know that little good could come to any alcoholic who joins A.A. unless unless he has first accepted his devastating weakness and all its consequences. Until he so humbles himself, his sobriety – if any – will be precarious. Of real happiness he will find none at all.”

For me, this means surrendering my distorted mindset to the fact I am powerless – this is the first step. In a nutshell, this is taking the first step.

Page 22:

“... we were the victims of a mental obsession so subtly powerful that no amount of human willpower could break it.”

Mental obsession. Thank you, God! I am not inadequate. I am just in the lethal vise of a mental obsession. * Exhale *

“... increasing sensitivity to alcohol – an allergy...”

What a comforting unearthing to come to the realization I was suffering from a sensitivity. I had an allergy & that was why I reacted the way I did. What an epiphany!

“The tyrant alcohol wielded a double-edged sword over us: first we were smitten by an insane urge that condemned us to go on drinking, and than by an allergy of the body that insured us that we would ultimately destroy ourselves in the process.”

Here is the come hither flirtation my disease always trapped me in – “come taste this & all your troubles will just melt away like chocolate on a stove.”

Gone is the heinous memory of the debilitating angst I endured from utterly succumbing to that bite, as the food thought slithers into my sickened mind to whisper, “This time will be different”. Amnesia slips in temporarily as the anesthesia from the food settles over my being as the poison pulses through my veins.

“It was a statistical fact that alcoholics almost never recovered on their own resources.”

There is no way I could do this on my own, if I could there would be no vacillating w/ the binge, purge, starve, repeat...

Page 23:

“...that it was indeed the beginning of a fatal progression. To the doubters we could say, 'Perhaps you're not alcoholic after all. Why don't you try some more controlled drinking, bearing in mind meanwhile what we have told you about alcoholism?'”

It was my more “controlled” eating that gave me repeated relapses – this last bout of telling myself, “You got it, kid” & “You can have this & that” led me to a six year relapse. It is sad to know I went back into the dungeon for six years – I have to grieve for that time lost but not beat myself by chastising myself when the truth is, I have a disease. I am not a screw up – I have an illness that can be arrested a day @ a time. Miraculous!

“It was then discovered that when one alcoholic had planted in the mind of another the true malady, that person could never be the same again.”

Amen! Going back to testing the waters w/ a tasting spree was always ruined by the knowledge of the gifts of the phenomenal 12 step program.

Oh, this program has been ingrained in me from the moment I walked into the mildewed church. I know there is only one way to address my disease – the 12 steps & 12 traditions. It isn't the latest diet, exercise equipment or gadget... it is all about following the steps as it is laid out before me period!


Pages 23 & 24

“After a few such experiences, often years before the onset of extreme difficulties, he would return to us convinced. He had hit bottom as truly as any of us. John Barleycorn himself had become our best advocate.”

Yes! I was battered, broken, bruised, damaged, and wounded when I entered the rooms again November 2009.

Masking Problems

Overeating masked other problems in our lives (fears, anxieties, angers, disappointments, pressures, boredom) (p.5, par.4).



For me, overeating & all of the shenanigans surrounding it ~ the anorexia & the bulimia ~ were ways for me NOT to deal w/ all of the pandemonium encompassing my life. It was a way for me to numb the f@#% out. I had to endure the excruciating heartache, spirit extinguisher & soul eradicator of being sexually abused. I had to learn to shut up, not question why the adults didn't step in to take care of me -- a child. A little girl who took on the role of adult, people pleaser, parent & sexual object @ an extremely young age. I did not comprehend why my family didn't love me ~ why they could not love me.


I was immersed in the throes of my disease, trying to hide. I was running away from my environment, my family and the agonizing ache, humiliation & shame of the turmoil I was tossed in. I just wanted to make all of the paralyzing pain of having men say & do inappropriate & unacceptable things to me - a child. I shoved it in when no one held me w/o an agenda -- w/o copping a feel; I inhaled food when no one showed me they loved me & when I was told repeatedly:


"I wish you were never born"

"I wish you were dead"

"You were a mistake"

"You made my life a living hell"

"You should of died"

"You're a half breed"

"The "nigger" or "spic" word to describe my paternal heritage (since my Scotch Irish & German materal side was so much better)

"You're only good for sex"

"Who'd want you"

"You're nothing"

"You'll never amount to shit"

"You're dumb, stupid, lazy, a slut, whore..."

"You're looks will only take you so far"


Ad infinitum...

I ate to nurture me, to fill the hole in my soul, to erase the fact that I was "different", "broken" & "damaged". I ate so as not to feel like an outcast despite the fact I was the family pariah. I ate to just not feel anything...

I just kept on eating so I didn't have to feel the emotional, physical or spiritual blows the adults & children hurled @ me. I was always told I was beautiful than told I was so beautiful I was ugly. Girls & women were thrilled when the pounds started packing on so they could show off their bodies. When I was starving myself -- they lashed out @ me to eat, when I was so immobilized w/ the bulimia it didn't matter because I had no energy for anything really. So went my vicious, heart-wrenching saga of being trapped in a net like a dolphin ~ struggling to get free or like a panther caught in chains chewing off her leg just to break free.

I just did not want to deal w/ all of the bedlam on the home front or the commotion circling those in my immediate dysfunctional orbit.

I couldn't deal w/ all the disappointments, betrayals & secrets. I eventually grew accustomed to all the disappointments, that it was moot point to want anything or hope for anything. I put on a plastered smile -- smiles that never reached my eyes -- as something "new & shiny" was handed my way. Whatever. If anyone knew me even the slightest, they would know to give me books.

As for the betrayals & secrets, I learned to keep Every. Single. Thing. To. Myself or else it spread as rapid as a California wildfire.


The treachery ripped me to shreds. The violation of trust shattered something deep in my core. It wounded me, it maimed me & left a blaring message, TRUST NO ONE!!!


I just relinquished myself to food & the comfort it provided until it didn't work anymore & the disease turned on me -- like "reality" bff's!

Will Power

3) Re-read Step One. Discuss and reflect upon the following ideas found in Step
One: a. Compulsive eating is an illness that cannot be controlled by will power (p.1., par.2).


I am so grateful to know that compulsive eating is an illness & not just me being defective, damaged or missing some gene to just stop the insane compulsion to eat & eat & eat.

I always believed there was something wrong w/ me for not being able to just stop shoving things in my face. Granted, being abused @ a young age in the kitchen did not help but the disease was there waiting for me to give in to it - to lose self respect for myself because a friggin' Devil Dog, rippled chip, candy corn, candy bar, &/or Swedish fish would just bring me to my knees. When I would have a bite of something it would just consume every single fiber of my being. It didn't even have to be a food I enjoyed -- it could be just one little "taste" of "this" or "that" that would send me spiraling out of control. I was turning & turning headed straight into the abyss quite the way an aircraft dumping fuel or a helicopter w/o propellers crashes through the azure or inky sky. I'd just whirl round & round until I crash.


So many times I tried to "control" my eating by just having "will power". It sucked hearing over & over that, "I'd just lose the weight if I exercised a sense of 'will power". Ironic, my drunken grandfather thought he had alcohol beat because he stopped. He wasn't recovered, he was just dry & exhibited all of the friggin' signs, attitudes & nastiness he always did - he was just w/o his drinking partner (my grandmother). When she died, he stopped. Well, I did have "will power" in many instances & for many things in my life, just not when it came to warm baked gooey sweets or a chip that I would just have one... three... a few... ALL of them & than some.Yeah, sure. It didn't even matter if it was stale or wet from the splashes from the pool. Nope, I had to have it or else... KAAABOOOMMM!!!

There was a lunatic raging inside of me that needed to be fed whatever just as long as it was stoked like a furnace. Once the madness began there was no stopping me & heaven forbid when there wasn't any "goods" around & just "diet" shit -- NOT good!


I'd load up on stuff @ the store -- As a kid, I walked to get whatever, steal it from friends or while babysitting or just grab a bunch of stuff for everyday, emergencies or just in case. I'd stock up when the ice cream trucks circled the neighborhood -- even grabbing my stash from several different ice cream trucks that made the rounds in my area & "pretend" it was for everyone when it was mostly for me. I even "grabbed it now" for the next day was a big joke.


It is a tremendous gift to see I have a disease ~ a dis ease. A disconnect w/ something that should be @ ease w/i my spirit -- etched in my soul. I no longer have to blame myself for being defective. I 'm never going to control it - just stop it in its tracks by placing it in my God box a day @ a time.


b. Another power, stronger than ourselves, had to be found if we were to stop eating compulsively (p.3, par.2).


I couldn't do it -- could not stop no matter how many times I tried, wished, cried or begged. I just could not do it. I would have moments where it would be, "OK" for a small "respite" only to come back full force @ times knocking me on my ass. There were times it would slither quietly back into my life, beckoning me to try this 'cause I got "it". I was lost. I just could not stay stopped. I prayed for God to make me thin -- no curves -- like a stick. I just wanted to have my cake & eat it to. I beat myself up because I just could not stop thinking about food -- it was with me 24/7 & many, many of my 24/7's. If only I could just cease this overwhelming mental dissent into madness. Trust me, if I could just stop, I'd be a mega trillionaire many times over because I would have the "cure".


I can't explain it, it is an absolute miracle to have God just take the degradation, compulsion & obsession from my hands. Today, I am proof that God is handling it for me. My HP -- GOD -- is doing for me what I am unable to do for myself & I am eternally grateful.

Step1: Let's Take It From The Top (Again)

2. Read Step 1. Discuss & reflect upon the effect food has had on you over the years. Do you really see yourself as a "compulsive overeater"?

Many overeaters can stop or moderate their food intake & their weight through a change in their caloric intake, diet &/or exercise. I can't. I am compulsive & my disease covers the ABC's:

• Anorexia
  



• Bulimia
  



• Compulsive Overeating
  

I have the same mental obsession, emotional turmoil/insanity & physical cravings an alcoholic or crack head does. I really don't like to admit this because I tend to be a bit of a snob.

~~~Rigorous honesty, baby! ~~~

As a little girl, it was always pointed out that I was "beautiful" -- hated that. My curves started to develop @ an early age. I remember hearing things like "dangerous curves ahead", "slippery when wet", "brickhouse" or "centerfold". I LOATHED HEARING THIS.

I was called "jugs", "lungs", "tits"... you name it. I was made to feel fat because I had a lot on top. The words "top heavy" were used. I was not a stick of a girl & men noticed. Which was not good; it was not what I wanted. It was excruciating. To me "big boobs" meant fat & it didn't help that I was stuffing the RAGE of the savage abuse so I started to get "chubby". It didn't FUCKING help to have the BASTARD give me a nickname -- "chubby". Boy, my other cousins were jealous because they wanted a name from the sick fuck. I was trapped in a vicious maze my uncle built around me. I was damned for being me & damned for being "chubby". Just the word alone makes me want to purge. For today, I am just not gonna give that MOTHER FUCKER ANYMORE POWER.

So, I used to think all I had was "a little" weight problem & I knew how to "fix" it -- I just starved or purged.

I mean, afterall, I wasn't like "those" people slithering around, stumbling or fiending for some junk to calm them down. Nope, not me. Yeah, okay. My ego doesn't want to associate with the bottom of the barrel drunk or the junkie crawling out of his skin for the "goods". My ego is just not going to just smile & say, "Yes, I am a gutter compulsive overeater". Hell No! I mean, I have standards & I just wasn't going to lump myself into the same category as "those' people. Ha! Denial. Ego.


Food has made my life a living nightmare. Food screamed out my name, whispered to me sweetly, seductively seduced me. It chanted, it played a siren's tune. Food brought me to my knees. I was on the edge of death. I was sickened to the core. I ate until I felt like I would burst open. I ate until I cried. Food was a constant. It was always there for me. It was a nurturing parent, a sibling, a grandparent, my best friend, my lover, my enemy, and it became my reaper. Food beckoned me. It was omnipresent, insidious & as poisonous as a rattle snake; Once it worked. It was my coping mechanism when I was abused -- sexually, emotionally, spiritually and physically. When I was afraid, lonely & sad it was there. It pulled me in & gripped me in its salivating clutches. All the while it was turning on me, Russian roulette... a double-edged sword.


What once rescued me & protected me turned on me. It wanted to take over -- it did take over for a long time. A lot of my years was wasted in the food, with the food, in the toilet. Food made me crazy. It was as much a part of me as my skin. Hell, it was my skin -- FAT! My skin stretched from the effect of stuffing it down -- stretch marks. Let me say, I was a vain girl... you know my mirror didn't see anything but my face when I was blowing up, when my weight was coming off I noticed my face wasn't "round" it was a bit heart-shaped. Surprise - surprise.


Food robbed me of a lot of years & it is about time I own up to it. Resentments a stirring.


Yes, I really do see myself as a compulsive overeater. Let me eat some Swedish fish, a slice of Sara Lee pound cake, sour cream potato chips, Doritos, candy corn... there will be no "just one". It hurts me to know that an inanimate object can bring me to my knees. I didn't want to admit this @ first (or second or third) because that would mean no more "prizes", "awards" or "celebrations" when I lost x amount of weight. Grrr... which boils down to my will. I didn't want to admit defeat. I didn't want to be powerless over a friggin' Pringle. Hell No! Seriously, this time get it together 'cause you know how to work it -- yep, I did -- "OA Buffet style". Picking & choosing what suited me to still "eat" my goods.


I know the obsession enters subtly but so POWERFULLY. I don't have "will power", I have NO power. I am POWERLESS. I just can't take my compulsion, I don't know how to kick its ass but I do know how to arrest it a day @ a time.


I am so grateful I am aware of my sensitivity to certain foods. I know I have an allergy. Once I ingest a certain substance -- whoa, baby! I am off to the races.

The phenomenon of craving kicks in. I can NEVER safely use any of my trigger/binge foods in ANY FORM @ ALL! Nope, no excuses. The minute I do take them, I'm on the road to relapse.


If I want to lose my recovery, all I have to do is pick up something & it's over. I may not have another recovery in me but I know I am a bite, purge or "skip a meal" away until I am a billboard for a funeral home.


There is no "controlled" eating for me because I have none. I am powerless & I need to keep this @ the forefront. My disease is always raring to go.