I've always been good at quitting obligations (see: piano lessons, ballet classes, infinite sports teams, and in one memorable instance, a babysitting job that would have required me to fly from New York to Los Angeles in sole charge of an eight-month-old), but when it comes to vices, I have a hard time letting go. I love to ride the absolute wheels off the things I love—even when they stop loving me back—and, to that end, it took me about three years of near-constant cannabis use to realize that my relationship with weed was taking more from me than it was giving.

The language of recovery has been part of my life ever since I started attending Overeaters Anonymous meetings in my mid-twenties to attempt to deal with what I had only recently begun to recognize as my binge eating disorde

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