If I had not gone through alcoholism recovery and a 12 step program, I might not ever have recognized that my problems with food were a true addiction.  My body reacts to certain foods the same way my body reacts to alcohol.  Once I get started, I cannot stop.  The Atkins Diet helped me to recognize what foods were a problem for me.  I first tried the Atkins Diet when I was still in college, and then several times after that over the next 15 years.  When I eliminate sugar and flour (and alcohol) from my diet, I lose weight rapidly, even if I am eating a ridiculous amount of protein and fat.  The first few times I tried it I would lose weight, get excited, and then inevitably return to drinking.  Alcohol was not entirely forbidden on Atkins, but as an alcoholic, having one drink sounds like a great idea but is physically impossible.

I tried the Atkins Diet again several times after I stopped drinking.  The problem for me is that the Atkins Diet only addresses one of the problems I have with food.  I can eliminate the foods that my body is addicted to, but it does not address my secondary problem of compulsive overeating.  A diet which allows me to eat all I want whenever I want so long as I only eat certain foods will only help my compulsion to overeat to grow.  It does not matter if I can still lose weight.  I am still locked into unhealthy and dangerous behavior.

So I struggled.  For years.  I would go for periods without sugar and flour, but I inevitably went back to it.  For me, it was far more difficult than when I stopped drinking.  I was in a state of baffling relapse for years.  Any weight I lost during periods of abstinence was inevitably followed by even more weight gain.  I just could not stop not matter how desperate the desire, or how bad the consequences were for my body and health.  I was in constant pain.  I could barely walk more than around 20 yards at a time.  It was difficult for me to even get to my mailbox around the corner of my building without having intense, muscle cramping back pain.  I had difficulty sleeping.  I was quickly making my way through clothing sizes and fearing the day that I would not longer find any clothes that fit me. I weighed over 300 lbs.

One day last April I took a sick day from work, mostly because I was dangerously depressed and just could not get out to face the day.  It suddenly occurred to me that perhaps there were treatment centers that handled food addiction and compulsive overeating.  I could not possibly be the only person going through this.  Maybe there was treatment.  I genuinely was ready to stop, but I was ill-equipped to do so on my own.  I started to research treatment facilities online, and I found several that looked like a good fit for me.  I was relieved to see that there were people in the medical profession that understood my problem.  I called a friend to ask her what she thought of the idea of going away for treatment, and she was very supportive.  She actually knew someone who went to one of the facilities on my list with great results.  That was the push I needed.

I called the facility to inquire about their program, and was further convinced that they could help me.  The next step was be to convince my family that this was what I needed.  My insurance did not offer full coverage for 30 days of treatment, and I did not have enough in my savings account to cover the difference.  My parents were easily convinced, and agreed to offer their financial assistance.  They knew my problems ,and were desperate to help me, but never knew how.  I remember telling my mother about my mind state and how desperate I was.  “I don’t want to kill myself, but I want to die.”  I hated telling her that, and I saw her horror and heartbreak, but I needed to get real about how emotionally devastated I was.  Once again, I found myself in a place where I could not live with or without compulsive overeating and food addiction.  I hit my second bottom.  Three weeks later I went to an amazing facility in Florida for 30 days of treatment.  I went with all the desperation that a dying woman can have.  I was willing to do anything.  I did what I was told to do, and I started to get better.