My First Meeting

Hello, my name is Anna. And, I am a compulsive overeater.

Nearly every Thursday these days, I attend our local Overeaters Anonymous meeting. The room is simple. There is a long folding table surrounded with seven tan, metal fold up chairs with faded pink floral seat cushions. The bookshelf is stacked with books and other OA literature for purchase or to borrow. Tacked on the bulletin board are a few special event flyers. A metallic gray boombox perches on one end of the table.

In conjunction with the layout of the small room, the format of the OA meeting is also simple. One of the members will voluntarily serve as the leader, and we typically take turns with reading or listen to a pre-recorded speaker. To begin the meeting, we recite the Serenity Prayer together. Then, we are asked to go around the room and introduce ourselves. It is here that each person states their first name only (per the tradition of anonymity) and introduces their addiction - compulsive overeater, sugar addict, bulimic, and/or anorexic.

Photo Credit: Empehi Blog

The memory of my first meeting is still fresh in my mind. I was nervous and anxious. I felt like “fresh blood” entering a room of seasoned and presumably “cured” overeaters. The members were welcoming, unassuming, and non-judgmental. And yet, I felt the heat rise high in my cheeks and my palms bead with sweat when I was asked to introduce myself. I had a momentary battle in my mind – even if I really WAS a compulsive overeater (I was still totally convinced I just lacked willpower and self-control), then why in the world would I openly identify, even label myself, as one? Doesn't coming to this meeting fix overeating? Certainly there would be strategies, goal setting, diet plans, weigh-ins and pats on the back that I would soon learn to end my overeating once and for all. I found myself feeling defensive. Had I been in a support group for cancer victims, I would have felt just as irritated if I had been asked to introduce myself by saying, “Hi, I'm Anna, and I'm cancer.” I refused to let compulsive overeating define me. As an intelligent, educated, introspective woman, I knew better. At least, I thought I did. Nevertheless, here I sat, in a cramped and cold church meeting room with five other addicts.

“Hi, I'm Anna. And, I am here.”

Thus began my journey in OA. I quickly identified a whole slew of other things about OA and the meetings that made my skin prickle with annoyance. The structure seemed drab and boring. The readings were sometimes repetitive, the process of “recovery” being slow and deliberate. And, despite the structure of the meetings, there was little advice for what I must DO to stop overeating. I just wanted someone to tell me what to do. That, or slap food out of my hand when my motivation and self-control quit working.

However, even with all the things that pin pointed and found “wrong” or upsetting about the program, I also felt a strong sense of belonging. I so deeply identified with much of the readings, the speakers, and saw myself and my struggles in the stories that other members shared aloud of their pre-OA life and recovery. Plus, I was still fearful. Fearful that I'd try OA, like I had umpteen other weight loss programs and diets, and still fail. So, I kept coming back. And, then, I'd skip a meeting. And, then, I'd go again. And, I'd ask questions. And, I'd cry. I cried in front of these men and women that I didn't even know. And, they didn't know me. But, I felt connected to them because they knew. They understood. And, we all continued to come back to OA for the same reason.

We have the desire to stop eating compulsively.