Some prefer cocaine.
Others choose their job. Another clings to alcohol. My preference? Cheeseburgers, pizza, and anything else that would make the world disappear with every bite.

I don’t remember the age I realized I was overweight, or that I used food to survive the life I hated living. It just was what it was, perhaps because I lived in it so long. Food helped me avoid reality.

For every bite and every binge, I didn’t have to focus on my heart.

I didn’t have to concentrate on the pain of sexual abuse or the truth of my dad’s abandonment. He chose alcohol over me. It never occurred to me I was choosing food over others. Before I knew it I was 25 years old and 330 lbs, still trying to hide the pain of my childhood and the fact that my father’s diagnosis of cancer was going to leave me abandoned yet again.

Then one day everything started to change.

I was flat on my back in a hospital bed with headaches I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. I couldn’t hold my head up because the vertigo was so intense. I couldn’t help but see this as a fork in the road — a sovereign chance to make a change. I could keep doing what I was doing or try something different.

Read the rest of the article over at Prodigal Magazine here….