Before and After
Hi, my name is Cecilia, and I am a compulsive overeater. By God’s grace and your enfolding love, I celebrate 13 years of abstinence. It boggles the mind! I, who couldn’t go a day binge free and felt worthless because I could not push myself away from the table (tough with my wheelchair brakes on), have maintained imperfect abstinence.

Other programs emphasize “before and after” only in weight loss. My physical recovery is just icing on the cake. Let me paint my before-and-after picture.

Before, I was so obese I could hardly lift myself. My arms hurt, I couldn’t bathe properly, and my obesity landed me in the hospital on the brink of death. Today, I am healthy, and my weight is no longer an issue.

Before, I cornered my kids and yelled at them. Today, I apologize when I’m wrong, and they are not afraid to point out my shortcomings.

Before, I followed my husband about the house and went into crisis when he left for the day. Today, he is away for a week with a friend I don’t like.

Before, I hated my mother in-law, and we played my husband against each other. Today, she and I are close, and I encourage them to spend time together.

Before, I took my mother in-law’s attempts to help me in the house as a statement of how inadequate I was as a woman and housekeeper. Today, I accept her help as the act of love it is.

Before, I got to the post office at midnight on April 15 to file the extension to my taxes. Today, I can’t wait to finish my taxes before February 15.

Before, I waited for late notices to arrive before I paid the bills, even though I had the money. Today, I know how much money I have in my checkbook and pay my bills on time.

Before, I had to put people down to build myself up. Today, sarcasm is gone from my life, and I can laugh at myself without ridiculing myself.

Before, I lived in a pigsty; I couldn’t pick up after myself. Today, I clean my house because it makes me feel good; my kitchen is clean before I go to bed.

Before, I craved food all the time. I was the slave and food was the master. Today, the cravings are mostly gone, and when they return, I know who my master is: a loving God.

Before, I had many friends and was always alone. Today, I have friends and am never alone unless I so choose.

Before, I was terrified to be in my own company. Today, I can’t wait for some time alone.

Before, I kept people away by making excuses and lying. Today, I don’t have to keep people away; my boundaries keep me safe.

Before, I resented my mother because she was hurtful. Today, I can tell Mom when she hurts my feelings. We can be honest, and I have taught her how I want to be treated.

Before, I kept my dad away because I couldn’t set boundaries with him, and I felt stupid around him. Today, I speak my truth clearly and kindly. I can debate him and know that even though we disagree, I am often right.

Before, I couldn’t admit my disability was difficult and often just sucked. In fact, I prided myself that I had no negative feelings about it. Today, I know that sometimes it really hurts and is inconvenient. The cool thing is most of the time it’s not a big deal. When it is, I have people I share my feelings with and get the love and support I deserve.

For these and countless other miracles, thank you. I couldn’t have done it without you.

— C.L., Omaha, Nebraska USA

Before I came to OA, I had a miserable life. It consisted of eating, trying to hide what I was eating, lying about it and feeling hopeless. Everything else — work, family, friends — was secondary to my food obsession. I honestly thought if people didn’t see me eat, they wouldn’t know I ate too much.

I weighed almost 300 pounds (135 kg). Fear, lying, shame, humiliation, excuses, obsession, dread and hopelessness filled my days. I didn’t know what it was like to love, respect or trust myself. I didn’t keep commitments, especially to myself. After every binge, I would feel ashamed and vow tomorrow would be different. It never was.

Today I can’t go back to that way of living. Some days I think I want to, that it would be easier, but it wouldn’t. My mind is warped into an obsession, and I can’t fix it. I am without defense against the first bite. Sometimes I understand that; sometimes I don’t.

Now that I’m abstinent, my days are different. Since I’ve admitted I am powerless over food and my life is unmanageable, I eat to live, not live to eat. I wake up each day with a clear head. I’m not hung over from a binge the night before, and my first thoughts are not about what I’m going to eat. I’m not looking to the floor beside my bed to see what’s left that I can put in my mouth so I can face the day.

I don’t want to die now. I look forward to my day with hope and begin with repeating Steps One, Two and Three and reading from For Today. This reminds me of who I am and who I want to be in control of my life.

I can get out of bed and like what I see in the mirror. I feel good about my physical self. When I’m abstinent, my body looks 100 times better, no matter what I weigh. I can go to my closet, pick out something to wear and know it will fit. I will have bought it in a regular store, and I’ll look good in it.

With abstinence and practicing the OA principles, I can do my job well and believe I’m good at it. I don’t fear I’ll be fired because I’m more concerned about food than work. My day isn’t focused on selfish desires. I can take care of and stand up for myself. I no longer feel others are better than I am; we are equals. I can commit to calling my sponsor and to eating certain foods. I value myself enough to realize I deserve good things.

I can come home and be nice to my parents. I don’t have to blame them for what I thought they did to me. I can love them for who they are and forgive them if they weren’t the greatest parents. Through soul-searching in OA, I realize I am lucky to have them. I know they did the best they could.

I can eat dinner without resenting my mother because I think she’s watching every bite I put into my mouth. I can eat a meal without feeling I don’t deserve to eat because I’m fat.

I can call my friends without wondering if they like and care about me. Before OA and abstinence, I questioned why anyone would want to spend time with me because I thought I was ugly, disgusting and no fun to be around. Today, I know that’s not true. I am lovable, fun, trustworthy and a good friend. Today, I care about others more than I ever could when I was eating compulsively. I couldn’t be a real friend until I learned to love myself. In OA, I know that everyone else in the meeting has felt the same pain, obsession and suffering I have.

Today, I have people I can reach out to and be honest with; I don’t have to fear judgment or ridicule. I receive compassion, understanding and love. I end my day thanking my Higher Power for all he has given me. I feel worthy of his attention, love and forgiveness. I know he wants me to be happy, joyous and free, and not return to the hell of compulsive overeating.

For today, as long as I continue to admit my powerlessness over food and the unmanageability of my life, I can go to bed each night full of joy and love.

— Anonymous

At 16, I left home and went to college for two years, coming back on weekends to be with mum after dad died unexpectedly from a heart attack. But I often spent weekends home alone. Desperate for friendship, love and attention, I would try anything to take away the pain inside me. I tried alcohol and cigarettes, but was afraid someone would find out and tell on me. I turned to food for comfort. It made me feel good, and everyone thought I was a good girl when I cleared my plate.

After two years of college and feeling depressed, I asked God what I was going to do with my life. That night I met my future husband. We married a year later and now have three children.

My illness didn’t come to the surface until I’d been married three or four years. I was staying home with my child and feeling depressed. I hated staying home, but was too lazy and stubborn to get a job. Pregnancy was a great excuse for bingeing, as I was “eating for two.”

I finally plucked up the courage to dial a number and find out about the local OA. The person I spoke to told me her story and said that if I came to the group, I could find the same abstinence and sanity for myself. I crawled into my first meeting hoping no one would see me, yet secretly wishing that everyone would at least notice me. Since then, I have found what I was looking for: abstinence, serenity and God.

Before OA, my life was a mess. I procrastinated and wondered why nothing got done. My children were unruly and in the way. Nobody cared for me, so I didn’t care for myself. Weighing 115 kg (252 lb), I was rude, cantankerous and offensive. I would eat without the food touching my mouth, and everything tasted bland. The drug that had once promised me the earth had no taste. Hunger scared me. I thought I would die if I didn’t eat right now!

I could play on the computer for hours while my children did their own thing. The house was a mess, but I thought people should take me as they found me. I had few friends and cared little for anyone but myself. Any job was a chore, and exercise classes were embarrassing and painful.

I was opinionated and had such high moral values that no one could reach them; therefore, everyone was wrong but me. If I couldn’t do something perfectly, it wasn’t worth doing. If I could not win, I would not play.

I often used the car as a moving restaurant, yet considered myself a safe driver. I put my children’s lives at risk when I left a sleeping child in the car to go to a fast-food place to dose myself up on my next quick fix.

Always I would promise that this time I would change. I prayed to the God I knew in childhood to save me from this awful thing I was doing to myself. However, I still wanted to eat as much as I always had and not be told what I was going to eat by diet clubs that offered so much, but for someone else, never for me.

Since I found OA, one day at a time has become my motto. All I have is today. If something goes wrong today, I can take it to my Higher Power or an OA friend, and we can sort it out together.

I am by no means perfect; I still do things wrong. I still play on the computer, but not as obsessively and not when the children are around. Takeaway and sandwiches from the shops are rare treats, not everyday occurrences. The biscuits are on a “children’s shelf,” which I touch only to restock after shopping.

I eat my meals three times a day, beginning with breakfast. I am finding a way to organize my life, something I once found almost impossible. I try to spend half an hour with my Higher Power each morning and talk with him throughout the day, commiting each day and my job to him. I have found that when I do that, the day or the job is easier because I am not doing it alone anymore.

I try to make at least one phone call a day. It helps just to talk and not isolate and wallow in self-pity. I am learning through this group that I have much more to give than I thought and others will accept me if I accept myself. I still have the “wouldn’t it be nice ifs,” but I know that kind of thinking doesn’t work. I just need to live the life God has given me today. Just for today, I will be abstinent physically, emotionally and spiritually; and just for today I will live the life I have.

— B.B., London, England

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