My name is Charlie, and I'm a compulsive overeater.
Welcome to D.M., a new reader who's been catching up on my posts and reading some of the old ones. She commented on some, which drew my attention to them. Look at this one, from March 10, 2008:
"Feeling fat again. Ate off plan all week in Boston. Stress and anxiety are really giving me grief. Isolation and fear are cutting me off from reality and good choices for my body.
God, help me!"
And this one, from eight days later:
"Wow. I've completely fucking let myself go. I am so tired of this.
Last night I thought to myself, 'I am NOT hungry. Nothing sounds good. I don't WANT to eat!'
And then I continued to put food in my mouth. Four cookies. Milk. A cheeseburger. Diet Coke.
God help me. Compulsivity consumes me."
I had forgotten that Charlie, the one who was so afraid and isolated, so hopeless and helpless. I'm grateful to be reminded of what it really was like. Sometimes I forget.
Now that I'm nearly eight months into my OA-HOW abstinence, now that I look and feel "normal" as far as my weight goes, now that I'm doing (for me) amazing things like training for a 5K, sometimes I wonder if I'm "all better," if I could do it on my own.
These messages remind me that I can't. I need you, my recovery friends. I need the 12 Steps. I need OA-HOW. I need God. I've been out there, and it's ugly. If I don't work this program, I'll be right back where I was three years ago.
I have a life-threatening disease. Thank you, D.M., for the reminder. Thank you, God, for the solution.