Healing On The Inside

I am looking at a picture of a complete stranger. But I know this person well inside, the pain, the isolation, fear and anger of a once morbidly obese woman.

My compulsive overeating started at the age of 16. I fell in love, or so I thought, with the boy of my dreams. He showered me with gifts and took me to the nicest places. But there was a dark secret that we both chose to ignore. He physically abused me. It started with a little shove here, a slap on the arm, and then it progressed to punching, choking and so on.

My relationship with my boyfriend continued until I met someone else, fell in love, got pregnant, and, of course, being from a devout Catholic family, married him immediately.

After two weeks, this man also physically and mentally abused me. The physical abuse didn’t begin immediately, but it slithered in like a snake. When it became apparent to me the abuse was not going to stop, I tried to become the perfect wife, losing my self-identity in the process.

Food became my only solace, and my best friend. The weight gradually crept on as I ate to hide the emptiness inside.

I finally ended our 12-year marriage and moved to Spokane with my 12-year-old son and my 5-year-old daughter, leaving longtime friendships and family behind. At this time, I weighed 210 pounds.

Despite my constant eating, I managed to secure a job with an attorney and became his legal secretary. It was a perfect job for me because I was the only employee, and I could hide from the world.

I quit when I was hired at another prestigious law firm in Spokane. At that time I weighed approximately 230 pounds. I worked at this firm five years, during which time I suffered humiliation and shame from cruel remarks. The attorneys would call me names, such as “big fat cow” or “fat pig.” After five years I was laid off. I was the only one to lose her job.

I felt defeated. My small apartment became my refuge from the outside world, the world that could hurt me. Each day I pulled the curtains, laid on my couch and ate everything and anything.

Because of my skills and experience, I was hired by another law firm. However, this time I was not discriminated against because of my weight but treated like a human being with feelings.

I continued to gain weight and escalated to 367 pounds. Food was still my best friend.

Then one day my life changed forever. On Sept. 18, 1992, I was at a local discount store, walking through two narrow accessory aisles, when my arm caught on a pole holding a variety of purses. I fell with a thud.

Numerous colors and styles of handbags adorned my body. I remember wishing I could become invisible and escape the haughty stares of a crowd of people. It took five employees to get me up.

Humiliated and defeated, I slowly walked out of the store and barely made it to my car before the pain inside became unbearable and tears cascaded down my face.

I had hit bottom. But something changed on that September day. For the first time in my life, I reached out for help. I joined Overeaters Anonymous, not a diet program. Diets only caused me to gain more weight. I needed to heal from the inside first.

When I walked through the doors of my first meeting, my life began. I met other people just like me. Their stories were mine. I began to learn about my disease, but more importantly, learn about what caused me to eat.

Because of the unconditional friendships and support I have received in this program, I can learn to accept myself. “We will love you until you can love yourself” is one of our precepts.

To date, I have lost 205 pounds.

However, losing weight was not the solution to my problems, for now I have to deal with the mental and emotional scars of my life.

I see a counselor regularly and talk to others who have walked my path and know the feelings.

Today I continue to struggle choosing the right relationships. It is hard for me to realize after 20 years without romance or support that kind words and flowers are not always indicative of a healthy relationship.

However, the physical rewards in recovering from this disease have been beyond my wildest dreams. My children get to see a new mom, who can play tennis or golf with them, dive off the diving board and get out of a pool without shame.

One of my dreams when I lost weight was to run Bloomsday. In 1988, at 323 pounds and sedentary, I tried to walk, but I made myself sick for a week. In 1994, I jogged my first Bloomsday with my sister Nan, who stopped to let me go in front of her at the finish. Arm in arm we congratulated each other through tears. My time was 1:24, but to me, I had won Bloomsday.

I have so much to be grateful for: my wonderful children, my loving family, my maintaining weight loss (one year at the same weight), my serenity, and my unconditional friendships. Most important of all, I am grateful that I don’t have to suffer alone anymore.

It is truly a miracle that I am here today telling my story. And yes, I am still healing from the inside out, learning to deal with my feelings without food - one day at a time.

The following fields overflowed: BYLINE = Deb Ferrara Special to Women & Men Nan Bulish, Deb Ferrara’s sister, assisted with the writing of this story.