At 78, he’s lived through war, marriage, career highs—and a 30-year secret battle with bulimia. Although he was raised in a middle-class family with healthy eating habits, he internalized early messages that “thin is good” and “fat is bad.” He grew up with food scarcity, body shame, and pressure to be thin, which led to a decades-long cycle of bingeing and purging, hidden even from his closest loved ones. For years, he felt alone, believing bulimia was a “women’s issue.” He hit rock bottom when he lost his business and marriage due to bulimia. He then received an unexpected call from a member of Food Addicts in Recovery Anonymous (FA), who encouraged him to attend a meeting, which changed everything. There he found the community, tools, and sponsorship that broke the cycle for good. Today, with over 20 years of abstinence, he shares how recovery restored his health, his relationships, and his peace of mind.

I didn’t grow up on a farm, but when I married at 19 years old, that’s where life took me. My husband and I built our lives there, raising four daughters amidst long days and hard work. It was a beautiful place to raise a family, but as the years passed, depression crept in and food became my escape. Over time—through isolation and the exhaustion of motherhood—food became more than just fuel. It was comfort, distraction, and relief. At 230 pounds on a 5’3” frame, I felt trapped. I tried every diet and made countless promises to myself, but nothing worked. I was hiding food in cupboards, in my purse, and in the glove box of my car. I was losing hope—until a family member introduced me to Food Addicts in Recovery Anonymous (FA). Though skeptical, I was desperate, so I asked for help. A sponsor guided me into a structured way of eating and living, and over 100 pounds melted away in the first year. But the real transformation wasn’t just physical. FA’s Twelve Steps helped me face my emotions instead of numbing them with food. My addiction had strained family relationships, and recovery gave me the tools to rebuild what was broken. Life still has challenges, but today I face them with strength and grace. After a decade in FA, I live with gratitude, serenity, and faith. FA didn’t just help me lose weight—it gave me back my life.

#depression #farmliving #isolation #healinginrecovery

For as long as I can remember, I was either too much or not enough – too thin or too heavy. At 5’7”, I’ve been as low as 105 pounds and as high as 220. I ran, played tennis, and tried to disappear into thinness, but no matter how much weight I lost, I still saw flaws. I obsessed over food, swinging between control and chaos. My addiction manifested in bizarre ways: while studying at college, I’d reward myself with a treat after each page I’d read, and at work, I’d bring sweets to the office only to consume them all myself. Business trips became opportunities for planned binges, where I’d spread out multiple snack foods on the hotel bed and then eat everything, drowning in shame. When I walked into my first Food Addicts in Recovery Anonymous (FA) meeting at 197 pounds, I was desperate. I didn’t think FA could help me. Then, a woman stood up and

told her story. I couldn’t believe it. She looked nothing like me, but she had lived my life. After the meeting, I got a sponsor. That night, I binged one last time, but the next morning, I called her and began. I didn’t think I’d last a day, but I have been here 22 years now, living in a body that feels like home. I weigh a steady, healthy 141 pounds, and more importantly, I’m no longer tormented by food or shame. At my first meeting, I heard that working the FA program offers “a life of sane and happy usefulness.” That combination – sane and happy – sounded pretty good to me. And that’s exactly what I got.

#overeater #undereater

In 2013, weighing 193 pounds, I was caught in an endless cycle of gaining and losing the same 20 pounds despite exercising six hours daily. At my heaviest, I had reached 309 pounds. Food was my solution for everything—my way of stuffing down emotions in a family where we never discussed feelings or learned healthy communication. As a child, I soothed myself by sucking my fingers until age 12. I had no stable identity, defining myself only in relation to others. Consumed by fear, doubt, and insecurity, I obsessed over others' opinions while compulsively trying to fix everyone's problems. My dieting began at 15 with a weekly Thursday weigh-in, followed by weekend binges. Working at a grocery store gave me both money and dangerous food access. In college, I met my future husband and gained 35 additional pounds. After college, in the year before our wedding, I lived above a bakery, and my eating behaviors only worsened. Our marriage struggled because of my dishonesty about both food and finances. After adopting a five-year-old boy from foster care, I built my identity around motherhood. When he left for the boarding school where my husband taught, I felt completely lost. Realizing I needed help, I found Food Addicts in Recovery Anonymous (FA), where I met two women with decades of recovery who showed me another way. I found boundaries, structure, and community. Today, despite my husband's leukemia diagnosis and my son's chronic health issues, I face life without fear. One day at a time, I've maintained my abstinence and my weight loss of over 100 pounds. It has been eleven years since my last binge.

#EmotionalEating 

#BingeEatingRecovery

#BingeEating

#FoodFreedom

#FreedomFromFood

At the age of 58, I am grateful to have been in recovery from food addiction for the last eighteen years. I came from a loving, yet dysfunctional family, with a rage-oholic father and a mentally ill sister, and food allowed me to escape my stressful surroundings. Considered a “husky” kid, I was eating constantly. In our family, unhealthy eating habits were normalized – I remember ordering soda and dessert for breakfast at restaurants, and no one questioned it. During junior high, I turned to excessive exercise, spending up to 8 hours daily working out. Despite achieving weight loss goals, I was never satisfied, constantly comparing myself to fitness magazine models. Life transitions would trigger 30-40 pound weight gains. My struggles extended beyond food to financial irresponsibility – I didn't pay my taxes, ignored student loan invoices, and maxed out credit cards. The turning point came when a friend introduced me to Food Addicts in Recovery Anonymous (FA). Though initially skeptical about committing to a structured eating program, I was desperate. Today, my life has transformed dramatically. I exercise in a balanced way, live at a healthy weight, and have achieved financial stability – including fully paying off my home and credit card debt. Most importantly, I have nurtured healthy and honest relationships with family and friends. 

#lgbtq+ #overeater #overexerciser #huskykid

I was born two months early, weighing just 3.5 pounds, and from the start, life felt like an uphill climb. My mother couldn’t nurse me due to complications, and I never got the kind of nurturing I longed for. My first "drug" was my thumb, which I sucked well into high school – a secret sedative that calmed me. Food became my next source of solace. By the time I was 3, my parents were worried enough to take me to a pediatrician after finding me eating cold spaghetti straight from the fridge. They were determined to control my eating, weighing me daily and taking me to diet doctors – even giving me a calorie counter in first grade. None of it worked. As I got older, I tried to fill the emptiness with sex, drugs, and rock & roll, more therapy, and constant "geographical cures" – from art school to cross-country road trips. As an activist in the 1960s who cared deeply about the world, some major events broke my heart and seemed like too much to handle. Food was always there, comforting me when nothing else could. In my 40s, I quit smoking, and with no other crutch, my weight spiraled out of control. In 1993, I found Food Addicts in Recovery Anonymous (FA). Skeptical but desperate, I prayed for help, and something shifted. With the support of my sponsor, I found abstinence and, for the first time, peace. Slowly, as the food cravings disappeared, I discovered joy, faith, and love. I married a man who is perfect for me; he appreciates my recovery, and our love keeps growing. I’m living a life I never imagined, free from food addiction and forever grateful.

#sexdrugsrocknroll #geographicalcure

From a young age, food was my escape—a source of comfort and control in a chaotic world. Growing up in public housing, with a dysfunctional family and an alcoholic father, I turned to eating as a way to soothe my emotions, hide, and find peace. But as I got older, food stopped working the way it once did. Fear of judgment and feelings of inadequacy began to weigh on me, affecting my relationships, my work, and my sense of self. Health problems like high cholesterol, high blood pressure, and diabetes loomed over me. Despite my growing fear, my food consumption spiraled out of control. On the brink of losing my job and facing bankruptcy, I hit rock bottom. That’s when, in 2014, I discovered Food Addicts in Recovery Anonymous (FA). Through FA, I found a lifeline. In less than a year, I went from 316 pounds (143 kg) to 187 pounds (85 kg). But the transformation wasn’t just physical—I regained confidence, improved my financial stability, and adopted a healthier, more balanced outlook on life. I cherish a deep sense of gratitude for my recovery, crediting my journey to the support of my Higher Power and the FA program.

She grew up in a loving family, but she often felt like an outsider because her family was thin and ate in moderation. Despite good grades boosting her self-esteem, the stress to excel led her to overeat. Food and fantasy novels became her escape. In college, she used food to push through the stress and cope with life. Afterward, she spent decades yo-yo dieting, and struggled with the pressures of being a working wife and mom. By her mid-forties, she was overweight and overwhelmed, had high blood pressure, and was prediabetic. She then did an internet search using the words “food” and “addiction”, which led her to discover Food Addicts in Recovery Anonymous (FA). She finally felt relief at her first meeting. Through the support in FA, she lost weight, improved her health to her doctor’s delight, and discovered that life wasn’t a burden but a precious gift to share

Una adicta a la comida codependiente comparte su experiencia, fortaleza y esperanza en la recuperación a través de Adictos a la Comida en Recuperación Anónimos (FA). Comparte su historia de disfunción familiar, pensamiento desordenado y derrota. Sobreviviente de abuso físico, emocional y sexual, ha aprendido a afrontar sus emociones en lugar de reprimirlas con harina, azúcar, cantidades, alcohol y compras. Ha abrazado su identidad como lesbiana y ha aprendido a pesar y medir su comida, su vida, y sus relaciones con los demás.

I am 79 years old and have been in recovery for 16 years. At my heaviest, I reached 267 pounds. My journey with food addiction began in childhood when I remember stealing food while my grandmother was cooking and hiding in the closet to eat it. My first binge was at age ten. Throughout my twenties, I developed habits like visiting multiple fast-food restaurants on my way home from work and isolating myself to eat. Extreme measures like having my jaw wired shut didn't stop me from finding ways to consume sugary foods, albeit with a straw. When I was diagnosed as prediabetic, I thought I could outsmart my blood sugar while still indulging in desserts. Even seeing a loved one lose their legs to diabetes didn’t stop me. The turning point came after retirement when my partner introduced me to Food Addicts in Recovery Anonymous (FA). Despite my initial skepticism, I persisted in the program and eventually reached 134 pounds. In recovery, the miracles just keep happening. I’ve rebuilt broken relationships, traveled the world abstinently, and maintained my serenity, even through life’s toughest challenges. In FA, I learned to manage my addiction, one day at a time, with the help of a sponsor. Most importantly, I’m free—free from obsession, isolation, and the shame that once consumed me.