her than her front door. She knows she is
absolutely the only woman in the world suffering her fate.
Determined to do something about my condition, I became a “meetings” junkie in the
next few months. I attended local gatherings of Over-Eater’s Anonymous, Alcoholics
Anonymous and Weight Watchers (again!). I was not an alcoholic, but I found the
truthful sharing of daily temptations and falling by the wayside—only to rise up for
another effort to succeed—powerful. Each organization had the same basic tenet: that to
truly succeed in changing our addiction, we needed the fellowship of others going
through the same struggles, specifically one partner who would be available at all times
to talk us through difficult moments. And we needed to take one day at a time. One hour
at a time, if necessary.
At the end of each AA meeting, we would recite the Serenity Prayer. “God grant me
the Serenity to accept the things I cannot change, Courage to change the things I can, and
the Wisdom to know the difference.”
Unfortunately, reciting a prayer does not guarantee you can put it to work in your life.
I alternated between extremes in behavior, fasting for a few days and then gradually
adding a meal, until I was eating three meals a day with no in between snacks but stuffing
as much as I could into those three meals. They always ended with a desert. Feast or
famine. No sensible portion control.
My compulsion to eat for personal and momentary contentment continued. As did my
guilt and misery.
One of the most painful memories I recall was rising from bed at one o’clock in the
morning and driving to an all-night convenience store for a box of ice-cream bars. I left
the girls sleeping alone in the house and never gave a thought to my not being there in the
event they should wake up and call out for me. Fortunately, I made it home safely before
that could happen. I gobbled down the entire box of bars and finally returned to my bed
still feeling hollow and forlorn.
Food from the grocery store does not satisfy the soul. The soul needs spiritual food.
My behavior showed a total lack of self-control that brought nothing but dejection. I
hated myself. I adored the girls and knew I was a good mother. How could someone so
blessed be so destructive in her personal life?
I came up with a new set of reasons. Ones I used with great success to elicit
understanding, rather than criticism, from friends and family who fretted silently and with
carefully constructed verbal suggestions. For inst
Click Follow to receive emails when this author adds content on Bublish