I am a compulsive overeater and restrictor. This was my first share in 2019, when I found recovery. Preparing this share back then for an online meeting, had been a profound experience, as it revealed a part of my disease I had long denied – the restrictor side.
From a very young age, I struggled with my weight, endlessly cycling between restriction and bingeing. Whether I was starving or overeating, food dominated my thoughts. I was fearful, self-critical, and obsessed with control, regardless of the number on the scale. My strategies included over-exercising, fasting, eliminating entire food groups, rigid dieting, daily weighing, and constant body obsession. I rationalized bingeing as “necessary” for sports, pregnancy, or family norms. My weight fluctuated dramatically, yet I was completely blind to the fact that I had an eating disorder. Over time, it only worsened.
I grew up in a family of compulsive overeaters. My father was a severe restrictor, narcissistic and obsessed with food, health and supplements; my mother was codependent and equally food-focused and obese. Food was the language of love in our home. I was praised for my ability to restrict and felt belonging when bingeing with my family. When my father left at sixteen, I stayed with my mother, and food remained central to comfort and connection. I used food for everything – numbing, celebrating, soothing, escaping. I later modeled this behavior with my own children, and one of them now has an eating disorder.
In 2017, after a painful breakup, my disease fully exploded. At 52, all my old strategies failed. I descended into severe restriction, became physically ill, and still could not see the problem, even as friends around me panicked. Only when restriction flipped into bingeing did I finally recognize the sickness and its cunning, baffling nature. Same disease but two different sides of the same coin.
I resisted OA for over a year, convinced I could return to my old methods. Powerless, I watched my disease take over and began to see how it had shaped my entire life. When I finally entered OA, I worked the tools and reintroduced foods, experiencing brief relief followed by relapse. It still felt like more strategies, still centered on food. My life remained unmanageable, and the mental obsession persisted, but now with awareness and relentless self-blame.
I was eventually led to a sponsor I could identify with. Together, we worked the Steps deeply. This became a matter of life and death. I trusted God, my sponsor, and the process. After completing Step 9 and continuing daily Steps 10, 11, and 12, I began to understand and experience the spiritual solution.
Traveling back to my family of origin challenged me greatly. I slipped into white-knuckling, neglected my spiritual practices, and felt restless and triggered. Slowly, I recommitted: praying more, meditating more, working daily Steps 9–12, and reaching out to others. Through spiritual fitness and service, something shifted.
Then the psychic change came. The mental obsession lifted. I cried with joy. It was no longer about food—it was about God.
Today, recovery for me means daily spiritual action: seeking God’s will, cleaning house, staying connected, and helping others. It isn’t perfect, but it is real, one day at a time. Through great pain, I have found freedom by keeping the channel to God open. Just for today, I am profoundly grateful for recovery, for my sponsor, and for a spiritual solution that finally worked.
This was written 6 years ago and not much has changed since then other than a short relapse in between sponsors a few years ago but I kept coming back and kept working the tools I was taught. I remain faithful to my higher power, working 10-12, and service.
Anonymous
©2026 Experience Strength & Hope Newsletter,
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