- 7 August 2022
- 5560 views
In a previous post, I shared how I began my abstinence journey—but this time, I want to go deeper. That first week of abstaining from my addictive trigger foods was nothing short of intense. Between withdrawal symptoms, emotional landmines, and navigating everyday life without my go-to coping mechanisms, it tested every ounce of willingness I had. This is a more detailed look at those early days—the highs, the lows, and the small, hard-won victories that helped me begin to break free.
The week I started abstaining from compulsive eating, I noticed something strange—by the time my next meal came around, I was ridiculously hungry. I wasn’t sure if this hunger was because I had never truly allowed myself to feel hunger before, or if I was just honestly outrageously hungry.
I began abstaining just after lunch on a Wednesday. I was nervous but didn’t snack the rest of that day. I ate supper, and again—no snacking in the evening. The next three days? Absolutely awful. Day four was the hardest of all. That’s when I believe the withdrawal peaked. Days five through seven were slightly more manageable, but still challenging.
At the time, I was working in a used bookstore that had two locations. Wednesdays through Fridays and Sundays, I worked solo at the smaller location. On Saturdays, I worked at the big store with my boss and co-workers.
This setup gave me some unexpected support in the beginning. On Thursday and Friday—my abstinent days two and three—I was alone. I didn’t have to see or smell anyone else’s food. But then came Saturday (day four), and suddenly I was surrounded by people snacking as I tried to hold the line.
It made a huge difference. Abstaining from trigger foods was definitely easier when I wasn’t being tempted by sights and smells.
I was living with my aunt and uncle during this time. How did I avoid their nightly snacking ritual? Easy. I worked until 6 p.m., got home by 7, ate whatever was left for me, and went to bed around 8:30.
Honestly, I couldn’t think of anything more fun to do with my evenings than eat junk food—so I just skipped the temptation altogether and went to sleep.
Day four was particularly difficult. I felt jittery, grumpy, and had a pounding headache. I don’t know if there’s scientific proof that people experience withdrawal from food, but I absolutely believe it’s possible. I sure felt like I was withdrawing.
That Saturday, my boss had an open bag of salt and vinegar chips on the counter—and I swear they were screaming my name. I’d already eaten lunch, and I knew those chips were a major trigger food.
To protect myself, I switched jobs with a co-worker and stocked shelves in the back of the store—far away from temptation and as close to “alone” as I could get.
That night, I was on closing duty. I had a dinner and shopping date afterward, so I was in the store alone for about 30 minutes, tidying and locking up.
The chips were still there on the counter—unfinished and calling to me. I had about 10 minutes before my ride arrived. I panicked a little and paged my sponsor. I waited 1–2 minutes for a callback that never came.
I didn’t know at the time that I’d accidentally given my home number instead of my work number. (Thank goodness for call display nowadays!)
Feeling overwhelmed, I went into the washroom and cried. The pressure, the agitation, the brain screaming to give in—I just didn’t know what to do with all those feelings.
Looking back now, I realize two things about that moment:
Over the years, that mindset has taken on many forms, such as:
When someone is new to abstinence, food thoughts can feel relentless. That’s why it’s so important to have a list of actions ready—a list of things you are actually willing to do when those thoughts show up.
Almost everyone I’ve worked with has said, “I’ll call before I eat.” Almost no one actually does. Most call afterward, heavy with shame and remorse.
During my first three weeks in OA, I followed up every meeting with a trip to a drive-thru or convenience store. Abusing food was what I knew.
So when I sponsor someone, I try to help them understand: you’re not bad, you’re just caught in the only pattern you’ve ever known. The key is to interrupt the pattern—without shame. Shame keeps us stuck.
I also have the hard conversations, like when someone binges and then calls after—but didn’t do anything from their “willing-to-do” list beforehand. I remind them that this is part of the cycle—and that it’s okay to adjust the list to include only the things they’re really willing to do.
Getting abstinent is tough because it requires getting through the steps without abusing food. But tough doesn’t mean impossible.
The Big Book promises that once we are halfway through Step 9, the obsession loses its power. And that was exactly my experience. Food stopped screaming at me. And when a food thought did come, I could dismiss it far more easily.
I stayed clean from my trigger foods that week, and I kept going through the steps.
Make a list—right now—of at least five things you are willing to do before acting on a compulsion.
And please, don’t say, “I’ll start tomorrow.”
Start now.
Too shy to call a sponsor? Go to OA.org and check the list of online meetings. OA is everywhere—24/7, across the globe. There’s always a room to walk into either literally or virtually.
Don’t give yourself permission to stay in the cycle. That’s just the disease talking.
No matter how many times you’ve tried and failed,
No matter how scared you are,
No matter what people are eating around you,
No matter what anyone says…
Yes, you can.
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