What It Was Like, What Happened and What It's Like Now

My name is Charlie, and I’m a compulsive overeater.

::Hi, Charlie!::

Tonight I have the privilege of speaking at an OA-HOW meeting up in Minnesota. I guess it's a really small meeting, and so every week they ask a guest to phone in and participate in the meeting via speakerphone. 

And I've been thinking it would give me the perfect opportunity to post my story here... It is National Eating Disorders Awareness Week, and I want to add my voice to the many others who are saying that recovery is possible! I am living proof... So grateful to all of you who are walking this road of recovery with me.

So here's what I'm planning to share tonight:

My name is ______, and I’m a compulsive overeater and OA-HOW sponsor.

Thank you for giving me the opportunity to share my experience, strength and hope with you tonight. I’ve been praying that I will be of service, and that God will use my words however he sees fit.

I have been a compulsive overeater for as long as I can remember. I was born into a family of overeaters. Some of my earliest memories around food involve birthdays and special family times. My family loved to eat. Every Wednesday night we would stop at McDonald’s on the way to church, and it was something I looked forward to all week.

Every Thanksgiving, our family drove from our home in Indiana to Kentucky to visit family. I look back and it seems like those visits were all about the food. Lemon meringue pie, the table full of food, desserts, pop, cookies, candy. And all of us cousins could eat whenever we wanted to for the entire weekend.

Good times in my life were always associated with food. What were we going to eat? Could we get pizza? Family fun nights always revolved around my dad making popcorn. We were never very active as a family. We would never do sporting activities, for instance. We spent quality time together eating and sitting and talking. Watching slides, for instance, or movies.

My dad and mom are compulsive overeaters who had rituals around food. Dad with his cheese and crackers every night at the table. Mom with the candy bars hidden in her underwear drawer. And even when I was a very young boy, my parents were already struggling with their own obesity.

I’m not sure why we all felt constantly deprived, but I think we did somehow. We were forever dividing up the food on the table to make sure we all got equal portions, even though there really was plenty for all. For example, if there were dinner rolls, we counted them and announced how many each of us could have. I thought all families did this. It was my future wife that first pointed out to me how odd this behavior was.

I know my parents did the best they could in raising my sister and brother and me. As we grew up, in fact, we were all convinced that we were the greatest family on the planet! There was a lot of love and affection in the house. We laughed together a lot. But I can see now, a lot of that was to cover up deep insecurities and anxieties. I think perhaps as a child, I could sense these things, but I could never have explained it. We were happy on the surface, but there was a lot of trouble brewing underneath. And I think food was one of the major ways we all dealt with it.

I was aware of being overweight – even felt fat – as a middle school and high school student, although I look back and see pictures of myself and can’t believe how thin I was. I started dieting in high school, but was never very serious about it. I made myself start drinking Diet Coke instead of regular, for instance, but I would drink it with pizza and candy bars. I might occasionally try to go without some kind of food for a time.

I would come home after school and make an entire box of macaroni and cheese for myself. When my parents would go out and leave me in charge of my younger siblings, we would always have frozen pizza and popcorn, along with sweets and other things. Holidays were always all about the food. My family loved each other by cooking and baking for each other.

In college, my eating began to take a turn for the worse. I had access to a cafeteria and a snack bar, and I could make my own choices, which never included healthy foods. I gained a lot of weight and began the cycle of trying to lose, gaining it back as soon as I would lose it.

I got married in 1993. I remember promising my wife that I would never get fat. I didn’t want to end up like my parents, but I soon began to gain weight. I worked as a traveling rep for a college for a while, and it was all about the food… driving through the McDonald’s in the morning, figuring out where and when I could eat lunch and dinner. Even the social aspect, which I loved, centered around food. Where should we eat? What are we getting? I ate massive amounts of food, and I was not very active. Soon I weighed around 220 pounds. At 5’9-1/2”, that was too heavy, and I was unhappy.

I remember talking to a doctor one time about weight loss. This was at least 15 years ago now. I was hoping maybe there was some radical thing he could do for me, maybe put me on a liquid diet or something. I remember him saying that I was not heavy enough for medical intervention of any kind, and that for people like me, overweight but not yet severely obese, it is a really hard road, and there’s not a lot of hope. He basically said “Good luck with that.”

My “history of compulsive eating” could fill a book, so here are some highlights:

•  All the times I tried to "start over" tomorrow, or Sunday, or Monday, or the first of the month, or on my birthday, or on such-and-such a holiday, or on New Year's Day.
• All the times I took out cash so my wife wouldn't know I was going to McDonald's or other drive-thrus on my way to or from work.
•  All the times I ate fast food right before I got home, trying to cram it all in, and then hid the bag under the seat, went in, and ate dinner with my family. I could barely eat because I was so miserable. But that never stopped me. I did it again and again.
• Staying up late to eat after everyone else is asleep. Eating 2-3 bowls of cereal, sometimes with sugar dumped on top of it. Eating until I felt like I would burst. Eating while a voice in my head kept saying, "Just stop, dammit!"
• The insanity of having to eat another kind of food in order to make up for the food I just ate. Binge on ice cream, now I need something salty. Now something sweet again.
• Fast food has been probably my #1 problem. I remember one specific time I started at McDonald's (my all-time drug of choice), got a big meal there, and then went right across the street to Burger King because I wanted a chicken sandwich with cheese and onion rings. I already had the Diet Coke from McDonald's (always a diet), so I got a shake at BK. I had a three-hour trip ahead of me, I reasoned. I could eat it all. And I did, but I was miserable.
• At restaurants I often made sure my kids' plates were clean. By eating their food myself. Sometimes I even hung back as everyone was leaving to make sure I could grab a last fry or half a cheeseburger.

I’ve gained and lost hundreds of pounds over the years. I've tried Weight Watchers, the cabbage soup diet, the Atkins diet, the Master Cleanse, a personal trainer who made me a very specific food plan, fasting, and compulsive calorie-counting.

About 8 years ago now, I did the calorie-counting-along-with-exercise route and I lost a lot of weight and felt great about myself. Then I gained it all back. I was miserable.

I found OA in November of 2006. I was working another 12-step program at the time, and I realized that my compulsive behavior in that area of my life reminded me a lot of my compulsivity around food. I remember sitting on my couch, reading the “15 Questions” on the OA website. Tears streamed down my face as I realized that I had finally found the answer. I was a compulsive overeater. I knew it in my heart of hearts, and I had to surrender and get to a meeting.

Was I cured? Far from it. I still had a long journey to go… You see, my biggest mistake was not to fully embrace everything OA had to offer me. I went to meetings here and there, and I chose a food plan, but that’s it. I thought it was working for me, because I started to lose a lot of weight right away. I ended up doing what I called the “HOW plan,” even though I had no idea what OA-HOW was all about. I basically used a modified Greysheet diet as my food plan and hung on for dear life. I did lose over 60 pounds in seven months. What I didn’t do was get a sponsor or work the steps. In other words, I was on another diet with a nice support group that I occasionally visited.

And seven months into it, in a Baskin-Robbins in Redwood City, California, I thought to myself, “Surely I can have just one milkshake. I’ve been so good.” And so I did. I remember looking in the mirror and thinking that I didn’t look any different. “See, that wasn’t so bad!” And that was the beginning of four years of terrible relapse.

Up and down and up and down, abstinent and binging, fasting and giving up. It was all the more terrible because I had had a taste of what recovery could be like. And my weight fluctuated from a low of 191 to a high of 240 with all kinds of ups and downs in between.

In 1998, my family and I began a very intense season of our lives. I had a series of job changes that really shook us up. First we moved in with my in-laws in LA for six weeks, then I took a temporary job in Seattle for three months. Next we moved to Houston, where I took a job that I thought was going to be perfect. It wasn’t the right fit, and after nine months, we ended up back in LA with my in-laws. Finally, after a long summer spent wondering if I would ever find work again, I got a job in Tulsa, Oklahoma and moved the family here in the summer of 2009. Five moves in 18 months were challenging to us on many levels, but they were really hard on my compulsive overeating. Although I found OA meetings in all of the cities I lived in, I could never find any long-term abstinence.

In Tulsa, I started attending regular OA meetings again. I committed myself to abstinence, and I even got a sponsor. But there was no structure, no path for me to follow. I couldn’t define abstinence, and I didn’t work the steps. I remember one day feeling particularly hopeless. I had re-defined my abstinence once again: three meals a day… It didn’t matter what those meals consisted of. I could even binge three times a day. But no eating in between meals.

I think I reached my bottom when I realized I couldn’t even stick to that plan of eating. I realized I was completely powerless over food and compulsive overeating. My life had become unmanageable. I was 232 pounds, and I was so unhappy.

And then the miracles began to happen. A blogger friend of mine reached out to me through email and really encouraged and challenged me to get and stay abstinent. Then I got a call from a woman from my meeting, just saying she missed me and inviting me back. That Saturday I went to the meeting, and this woman came to the door to let me in. As I sat through the meeting I realized that she had what I wanted… She was at a normal weight, but more than that, she was calm, peaceful, wise. I wanted that kind of recovery. (It wasn’t until later that I discovered she has lost over 200 pounds!) After the meeting, I approached her nervously, hoping to ask her to sponsor me. Before I could ask, she offered. So we sat for an hour while she explained OA-HOW to me. She explained that she could only pass on what she herself had been given, and that I would be expected to work the program like she works it.

How could I, a husband and father of four with a fast-paced, full-time job ever do all these things she said I had to do… every day?! But in a way it felt like a lifeline. The only way out. I was terrified and relieved all at the same time.

That Tuesday, August 10, I started calling my sponsor and committing my food. I got abstinent that day, and 199 days later, here I am.

As of my last weigh-in on the 19^th, I weighed 171 pounds. I have lost 61 pounds from my most recent high of 232 and 69 pounds from my all-time high of 240. For the first time in my adult life, I am a “normal” weight and BMI. But this time there’s something different. I know I’m not “cured.” I am still a compulsive overeater who is being given a daily reprieve from my disease by working this program.

And it’s really important for me to say that I know this program is not all about weight loss. Yes, my weight loss is an obvious and somewhat dramatic result of my recovery, but the spiritual and emotional recovery have been amazing too. I feel like I’m really experiencing the 9^th step promises in my life already…

The Big Book says: "If we are painstaking about this phase of our development, we will be amazed before we are halfway through. We are going to know a new freedom and a new happiness. We will not regret the past nor wish to shut the door on it. We will comprehend the word serenity and we will know peace. No matter how far down the scale we have gone, we will see how our experience can benefit others. That feeling of uselessness and self pity will disappear. We will lose interest in selfish things and gain interest in our fellows. Self-seeking will slip away. Our whole attitude and outlook upon life will change. Fear of people and of economic insecurity will leave us. We will intuitively know how to handle situations which used to baffle us. We will suddenly realize that God is doing for us what we could not do for ourselves. Are these extravagant promises? We think not. They are being fulfilled among us - sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly. They will always materialize if we work for them."

Notice that says nothing about weight. And everything about peace of mind. I think it’s so cool that the first thing that drew me to my sponsor was the serenity that she radiated, not her 200-pound weight loss. And, as she reminds me almost daily, this program is all about conscious contact with my Higher Power.

AND IF THERE'S TIME... I'll share some stories about life in recovery and how things are really good right now! 

Experience, Strength and Hope

Hi, my name is Charlie, and I'm a compulsive overeater.

::Hi, Charlie!::

I can't believe it's been a week since I last posted here. I haven't gone anywhere. I'm still abstinent, by the grace of God. It's just been busy. So much happening all the time. With Christmas coming, this music minister's time is often spent prepping for cantatas and Christmas Eve services. And, of course, I'm always busy calling OA friends, planning meals, packing lunches, reading OA literature, writing (just started my actual 4th Step inventory this morning!), talking to my sponsor every day, Tweeting... Oh yeah, and trying to be a halfway decent dad and husband.

And you know what? I think I'm becoming a better dad and husband, a better pastor and friend. I think this program is working. I know my wife is happy with the changes in my life. She has commented that she likes this "new me" that is emerging. I have never felt so disciplined. I have never been able to stick with anything for any length of time before now. I am so grateful.

Last Saturday my sponsor and I met to do a "Step Up" ceremony. We spent two hours together, talking and reading and even lighting candles. I loved it. I formally became a sponsor in the OA-HOW program. It was powerful. Sometime I'd like to write about that experience. Did I mention there were candles?

And tonight I will "Step Up" on the phone meeting. I will be doing the ceremony and then sharing my experience, strength and hope. I'm a little nervous. But I think it's the right thing to do. I was startled when the meeting leader asked me to do it - only this morning - but after talking to my sponsor, praying about it, and asking friends on the phone and on Twitter, I've decided to go ahead and do it. God will guide me. I will say what I'm supposed to say.

So, my prayer tonight:

God, I offer myself to Thee
To build with me and to do with me as Thou wilt.
Relieve me of the bondage of self, that I may better do Thy will.
Take away my difficulties, that victory over them may bear witness
To Thy power, Thy love and Thy way of life.
May I do Thy will always.
Amen.

Miracles: A Guest Post from G. Rabanon

My name is Charlie, and I'm a compulsive overeater.

::Hi, Charlie!::

Today I have the great privilege of presenting a guest post by my friend G. Rabanon. You've heard me mention her name before. She was one of the people God used in a powerful way to bring me back into recovery and to begin this period of abstinence and growth in my life for which I am so, so grateful. Enjoy her writing, and please check out her blog and follow her on Twitter!

Hi, my name is G. and I am a recovering bulimic.

*pause*

*crickets*

Hm. I guess that only works for Charlie.

::Hi Charlie!::

*blink*

Um… okay.

Anyway, today, it turns out, I am 300 days abstinent from disordered eating. Charlie asked me a while ago if I'd like to write a guest post. And I was just thinking about him tonight and I figured, eh, no time like 11:22 at night. Sorry, 11:23.

Tonight I want to talk about miracles.

Bulimia is not the beginning of my story, as it is not the beginning of anyone's story. In fact, I came to bulimic behaviors relatively late in life, at least in comparison with a lot of the stories I've heard… though I know comparisons are irrelevant, and I know that in most respects 18 is really quite young… hell, almost 11 years younger than I am now…

I've been bulimic for almost 11 years. Huh.

Well, the other big elements of my story are depression and child abuse. Both go back as far as I can remember. I don't want to make it sound like there were never times when I experienced joy, because that would be a lie… but I have never in my life been happy. Never. Not until now. Not until the age of 28 did I learn what it could mean to be happy. And I could be extremely bitter about that.

Which brings me to the first miracle: I am not bitter.

I was. Oh, believe me, I was plenty plenty bitter for a long long time. I realized when I was 14 that the reason I always felt like there was something wrong with the way Dad hit us was because he wasn't supposed to be hitting us. I realized that probably a big part of why I was always so sad was because of the things that were said and done to me and my mother and my brother and sister in my home. When I left, when I got out and went to college, got a job, went abroad, went to graduate school, the pain followed. The pain never let go. And I was bitter. And I was angry. And I thought that it would never leave me and that I would never be able to have a life that was not torturous. Less than 6 months ago, I had given up. I didn't want to kill myself necessarily, but I said to myself, to my friends, to my teachers, to my therapist, to people in OA meetings, to God, ESPECIALLY to God, that if this was life, then I really really did not want to play anymore. I didn't want to die, to be dead, I just wanted it to stop hurting.

Miracle number two: I am alive.

Here's how it happened… God sent me an angel. I don't mean the cliche winged angel that you see in movies or illustrated Bibles and stained glass windows. I mean angel in the literal, original sense of the word. The word angel, and the Hebrew word מלאך mean "messenger." And that is what God sent me.

He was a teacher of mine. An alcoholic recovering in AA who will, God willing, have 18 years of sobriety this Christmas Eve. I had failed his Talmud class, largely because I had a great deal of difficulty getting out of bed in the morning to get to his class, let alone doing assignments. I spent a great deal of my time sitting or lying in my room with tears streaming down my face for no immediate reason other than the fact that I was in agonizing pain on the inside of my head and heart and nothing seemed to give any relief. I'd already started in OA by then, was abstinent almost 5 months, and so was no longer dulling the pain with food. I'd not intentionally injured myself in about a year and 6 months, had not purged in about 2 years and 2 months, had begun to cut down on my drinking (which had been getting heavier and heavier) and was left with very little in the way of coping mechanisms. I was therefore not coping. This was to be the point of reckoning. This was it. Either I would figure out how to live without hurting myself to get by, or I was going to die. Maybe now, maybe later, but it was going to happen. And I was not optimistic.

I came to speak to my teacher. He had an inkling of what was going on. So he proceeded to tell me a story. There was a time when he was suicidal, he told me. He'd been hospitalized for his alcoholism and suicidal depression. He wanted to speak to a chaplain, but didn't want a rabbi, fearing for his anonymity. All rabbis know each other, you see, one way or another. So he was seen by a priest. The priest listened to him, and then told him "You know, this is all going to make you a better rabbi."

This was the bell that began to wake me. You see, I've heard that line countless times in my life. And I hated… no, really… HATED hearing it. Hated it so so much. Maybe I don't WANT to be a better rabbi! Maybe I would rather be a mediocre rabbi, or even a TERRIBLE rabbi if it meant I could be happy and sane and not want to die!

But suddenly, the words were true. I knew they were. Because the better rabbi was sitting in front of me, looking into my eyes and telling me his story. Because of what he'd been through, he was a better rabbi… indeed, the ONLY rabbi for me in that moment. Because there he was, having been where I'd been, worse places even, and he was sitting exactly where I wanted to end up sitting. Doing just what I wanted to be doing. He'd come through the hell I was in and had not only survived, but had gone on to be what I want to be. He had what I wanted. He'd been able to get there.

Miracle: I was given hope.

No one had ever EVER been able to give me that before. People had always said encouraging things to me, hoping to snap me out of the pit of despair in which I was so accustomed to wallowing. People had said all sorts of things to me, but none had been able to speak to me from a place of understanding, of experience and recovery, who had gotten to where I wanted to be.

A month later, as I was pulling myself together, I had a realization one night. I was sitting alone at home. It was late, just about bedtime. I was online, trying desperately to soothe the gnawing ache of loneliness I was feeling. Nobody loves you, I kept hearing in my head. Nobody wants to hang out with you, no one wants to talk to you, you're alone and nobody loves you. Suddenly, God spoke to me/my rational brain kicked in. However you want to call it. "Ok G," it said. "What is this? Seriously? It's 11:30 at night. There's nowhere you want to go, no one you really want to talk to, and you know for a FACT that there are scores if not hundreds of people who like you, lots of whom really really like you, and a bunch of whom even adore you! So where is this coming from?"

I answered myself.

I hate myself. I'm sitting here and I feel lonely because I am sitting with someone who hates me. If you sit 24 hours every day 7 days every week with someone who hates you, of course you are going to feel lonely, of course you are going to feel like nobody loves you!

It occurred to me that night, for the first time, out of nowhere, that there was this person named G, this person who was well liked and well respected by many, who was someone of whom people said to each other "this is someone you really want to get to know," and here I was closer to her than anybody, and I had no idea who she was. I had the opportunity to be her friend, just like all the cool people, and I'd decided that I didn't like her without even getting to know her.

That was ridiculous.

Miracle: I decided to be friends with me.

I would never willfully treat another person the way I treated myself. And realizing suddenly that I was the only person who was ever going to have to be with me every moment of every day of my life, I HAD to be my own best friend… not because nobody else would, but because I was always going to be there if no one else was at the moment. It just suddenly made sense.

Life has been amazing ever since.

And those are the big miracles of the last six months of my life. I didn't talk very much about the food, but let's face it… it's never really about the food. The food is the door to everything else. The food is, in many ways, the simplest part of this.

I thank God for every moment of every day. The world is full of miracles and beauty. Pain is inevitable, but suffering is optional. When you do the work, miracles, REAL miracles, do actually happen.

Don't give up five minutes before the miracle happens. You miss out on the good stuff that way.