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TITLE: Five Years Strong | Previous Challenge Entry
By Laura Stansbury
01/22/15
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Five Years Strong

I affectionately call Oakhearst Haven the Fat Farm because it has nothing to do with fat and everything to do with weighing 95 pounds and wasting away and recovery.
The intensity of the memories catch me off guard as I drive through the gate at the retreat center. Pulling over onto the shoulder of the driveway, tears well in the corners of my eyes. The annual trip to Oakhearst is a time of celebration for my family. My parents, twin sister Nicole, and younger brother have stood by me every step of the way with countless prayers and hugs. They will be joining me later for my speech. Glancing at the packet in the passenger seat I see my smiling healthy self staring back – Rebecca Young, key note speaker. The attached bio includes all things positive and kind. Five years in recovery, a masters degree in eating disorders, and a founding partner with Nicole at our local church support group.
I am a recovering food addict. Anorexia is my specialty, although my journey had many side stops along the way. Bingeing, fasting, orthorexia. Oddly, being obsessed with consuming only pure foods has been just as difficult to overcome as anorexia.
Easing down the window I take in deep breaths of fresh air. The aroma of honeysuckle, fresh mown grass, and the unique scent of horse are my reward. The equine therapy here had been so vital to my healing process. Much of my journey back to wholeness was solitary, but the horse's faithfulness was complete in offering comfort and solace whenever needed. Even now seeing the horses in the distance has a calming effect and a wave of gratitude rises to the surface. More tears gather but from a lighter heart. I close my eyes and mentally skim my notes for tonight's speech.
****
My secret greed for food began young. By the age of 14 when my great-grandmother died my over indulgence became a full blown dependence. Granny lived a full life into her 90s and most everyone who met her were charmed by both her infectious laugh and her insistence in feeding anyone in close proximity. She refused to take no for an answer and so at our weekly visits we ate. A lot.
Granny weighed 300 pounds - back before it was fashionable - and in her opinion everyone was too skinny. Especially Nicole and me. We always needed extra helpings and extra sweets and extra leftovers to take. It is still a mystery to my family, as well as my therapist, why Nicole was not phased by this over abundance of food. While I, on the other hand couldn't get enough. I ate to be polite, I ate to avoid being wasteful, I ate to be eating. To my young mind, if Granny could be that overweight and that happy there must not be anything wrong with excessive eating.
At the reception after the funeral heaping plates of food were accompanied by stories of how, in spite of her excessive weight, Granny lived to a ripe old age. In my own sadness I heaped my plate high as well, fully embracing emotional eating and bingeing that carried me through my teen years.
Five years of wellness have passed since I hit rock bottom in college. The way has been littered with near relapses. Bingeing still lurks underneath the surface. It calls to me at my weakest moments. Orthorexia speaks to my need to be in complete control and tempts me the most. I am careful to keep a food diary and splurge without guilt. Anorexia was a by-product of my downward spiral called gluttony that has been forever silenced, one day at a time. Minute by minute.
I am a recovering food addict. Five years strong.

**This is a work of fiction**

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