They say the first step to recovery is admitting you have a problem. I guess I can understand the concept of this rather easily but that doesn’t make the admission any easier to make. I have struggled with this problem for many, many years. As I stand back to look at it, I realize I have gone through what amounts to the 5 stages of grief: Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, and Acceptance.
Denial: Thinking back, the denial began when I was the ripe old age of 18, possibly even before. I was engaged, in college and planning a wedding. Any of those things alone are stressful enough but I endeavored to do all three at once. “What’s the big deal?”, I thought. I always juggled activities while I was growing up and didn’t think this would be any different. I failed to take into account the power of the people around me had over me though. Instead of saying no to things I did not want to do, I stuffed those feelings down with heaping doses of mashed potatoes and gravy and chicken fried steaks. Stuffed them down with pizza and cheese enchiladas. Instead of losing weight like most brides strive to do before their wedding, I managed to gain 20 pounds. Of course, I reasoned that it would be easy to drop the extra weight after the wedding because things would be more calm. Was I ever wrong!
Anger: Over time as I gained more weight, I became more and more angry. Angry with myself for letting it get out of control, angry because I did not have the time I wanted to dedicate to losing the weight, angry about lots of other things. But did any of that stop me from stuffing my face to cope? I think you know the answer. In all honesty while looking back on it, this wreaked a lot of havoc on my marriage. I was angry with him for not finding me attractive anymore. In reality, it was me projecting that on him and making that a self-fulfilling prophecy of sorts. It would be hard for anyone to love someone with whom you never knew where you stood. I took my anger with myself out on him. While he was far from perfect, this certainly didn’t help things. I remember distinctly one incident: we were heading out to dinner with a material supplier and his wife. We were going to a swanky restaurant and I had primped all day. I tried on a million outfits, getting more frustrated by the minute because none of them looked the way I wanted them to. I looked fat in everything. I finally broke down into a sobbing ball of tears and it took me about 30 minutes to regain my composure enough to throw on a baggy sweater and some pants and head out the door, an hour late. I felt even more terrible once I realized that not only had I been a complete bitch to my husband, but I had totally disrespected his supplier and his wife. And for what?? Because I was mad at ME.
Bargaining: I went through this for years and years, mostly in private. I would tell myself, “If you can just lose 20 pounds, you can take a trip to the mall and buy yourself a new outfit.” There were lots and lots of bargains I made with myself, too numerous to list here, but I knew all the while that I would never follow through. I made myself believe that I was worthless and didn’t deserve to be happy. And the munching and overeating continued.
Depression: Looking back, I am sure I was depressed for many years even though I was never treated for it. I feel like it was at it’s worst when I had my son. The time that is supposed to be the happiest time of one’s life was also one of the dimmest times I have ever had. I gained an enormous amount of weight while pregnant and it was not easy to focus on losing any of that weight while staying home with a brand new baby. I loved having that time with my son, don’t get me wrong, but it is not as easy as it looks to stay home all day with a baby. To quell the boredom, I ate. Morning, noon and night, and all the time in between, I ate. I would make elaborate dinners like all good wives do. But at the end of the day, I would go to bed tired, sad, and alone. There were times that I would lose some weight and feel decent about myself, but I would gain it all back and then some and end up in the same dark place I had been months before. The depression followed me for at least 5 years after that and that was the same time I finally gave up on my marriage.
Divorce is supposed to be one of the three most stressful things a person can live through. I didn’t find that to be the case. For some reason, it was freeing. I was finally free to express my ideas, to do what I wanted when I wanted and with whom I wanted. I think this is when I found acceptance. I accepted myself for who I am and what I look like and I finally was able to accept the number on the scale without going into a fit of rage or sobbing uncontrollably upon seeing it.
I love the person I am now. I have a great job. I have an amazing new husband who gets me like no one else and lets me be myself 110% and supports me in all my kookiness. I have a wonderful son who, despite being spoiled rotten, is rapidly becoming a man I will be proud to send out into the world. I have a nice home with fine furnishings and things to look at and a full refrigerator. I have amazing friends who I know always love me, even when I am unlovable…all the things I could ever want. I am funny and beautiful and independent and smart and fat and fantastic, and if you don’t like it, well, FUCK YOU!
But I still have a problem and that problem is food.
So without further ado, My name is Jana and I am addicted to food.
This blog is the story of mine and my best friend’s adventure to overcome our weaknesses while striving for a goal that neither of us would have ever even considered 5 years ago. I hope you enjoy it and will stop by often to laugh, cry, and learn with us. 
running for our lives 