In the mid-1980s, Phil Werdell began working as a lead counselor in the food addiction unit at Glenbeigh Psychiatric Hospital of Tampa. In January 1990, Mary Foushi entered treatment there for food addiction. Here Mary recaps how Phil and Mary met and – almost four years later – began working together. In January 1990, I entered the residential food addiction treatment program at Glenbeigh Hospital of Tampa. I was 37 years old, had been overweight from a young child, and had gained and lost 100 pounds five different times. Four years prior to Glenbeigh and weighing 340 pounds, I had attended a different inpatient treatment center for food addiction and spent seven weeks there. I worked hard during and after treatment and lost 140 pounds. Gradually, however, the food inched its way back into my life. By the end of 1989, and although I never got up to 340 pounds again, the disease had progressed; I could not stop eating sugar, and I was beaten and broken. At 256 pounds and at the lowest point of my life, I crawled my way into Glenbeigh. I always thought that the weight was my only problem. If I could only lose the weight – and keep it off – I would be just fine. However, as the disease progressed in me, I realized that there was something much bigger than my excess weight and that my willpower was of no defense against it. I often said if I could only cut off my head, I would be OK. Phil was a lead therapist at Glenbeigh. Although he was not my counselor, I attended his lectures and saw him around the halls. The treatment protocol included educational lectures on addiction, in general, and on food addiction, specifically. While all the lectures were of interest to me, Phil seemed to speak in a way that was different. His sessions were highly instructional, practical, easy to understand, and were interspersed with his personal experiences with recovery from food addiction. He related truths about food as an addiction that I had never heard of before. From his lectures, I began to see that I might be a real food addict; that there might be something beyond the weight. Something beyond my limited power of control. I was drawn in by Phil’s no-nonsense approach to addiction, abstinence, and recovery and by the seriousness with which he related to both his own disease and that of his clients. He had a manner about him that made it easy for me and others to be honest about our deepest struggles with food. Phil was intuitive, kind, non-judgmental, accepting, compassionate, and open whenever he interacted with food addicts. Food addicts like me who were filled with shame and self-hatred. The work done at Glenbeigh was intense, with powerful clinical interventions and personalized assignments. Some writing assignments were given to all clients, such as: write a list of all your binge foods, list all the ways you’ve tried to control the food, write specific examples of your powerlessness over food, etc. Written assignments were read during daily process groups, and there was a safe space for expression of deep feelings, should they come up. I saw deep healing take place in others and experienced the same in myself. I often equated it to a form of spiritual cleansing. There was something about Glenbeigh’s treatment model that was exactly what I needed. Even though I was abstinent, weighing and measuring my food, doing my assignments rigorously, doing whatever was suggested, I still thought there must have been something more that I could have done to stop bingeing. If I had just tried harder, I wouldn’t need to be in treatment. I could have lost the weight if I really wanted to. The reality that I might have to give up sugar was just too difficult for me to face. I thought seriously about leaving treatment and going back home. Yet I stayed. After several weeks, the clinical team, including Phil, determined that I was in serious denial about having an addiction over which I was powerless. They could see that I was convinced that I “should” be able to get control of my food and weight if only I tried harder. As part of their clinical intervention, they decided to do "Mary’s funeral" as a last-ditch intervention. They saw that I was a very “low-bottom” food addict and concluded that I might die of the disease no matter what they tried because of my unwillingness to admit complete defeat over certain foods and food behaviors. My “funeral” was held during a process group. It was deeply moving, and I became aware that I truly thought that I would rather die than live without sugar. But something happened, and a huge shift took place in me. I did deep rage work at everything the disease had robbed me of over the years. I began to get a little more awareness that perhaps I had been powerless in situations where I thought I had been “choosing” to binge. I became more honest, willing, and openminded to things the staff was sharing with me. The idea of personal powerlessness was slowly sinking in. I was making steady progress and was grateful that I had stayed. However, five weeks into treatment, my health insurance stopped covering my stay. Rather than transition home at a very vulnerable time, it was suggested that I continue treatment at a local halfway house. I agreed that I was not ready to go back to life in Chicago. So, taking one month at a time, I stayed for three months of extended treatment at a halfway house for food addicts called Turning Point of Tampa. Phil facilitated a Wednesday night process group at Turning Point on "how to put your abstinence and recovery first at work.” I loved that group. We focused on practical food situations that might come up at work. Phil continued to emphasize that, as recovering food addicts, our work environment needed to be a place where we could put our abstinence and recovery first, no matter what. Nothing else would work. I was highly motivated and participated fully in the group. As Phil tells it, he was impressed with me from a professional point of view right from the start. He saw me as competent, intelligent, and most importantly, someone with a deep commitment to her abstinence and recovery. Although I had no idea about this, apparently Phil had made a mental note of it. After three months in the halfway house, I returned to Chicago and continued my recovery on an outpatient basis. I attended daily twelve-step meetings, an outpatient support group two nights a week, and required three adjustments be made in my work environment before agreeing to return to my job. I had a sponsor, weighed and measured my food, and committed myself fully to putting my abstinence and recovery first. I had become convinced that if I didn’t continue to do these things, I would die of the disease of food addiction. Periodically I returned to Glenbeigh to attend alumni recharge weekends and relapse prevention programs. I started assisting a therapist in my local area who was leading a food addiction recovery group. Perhaps a year later (I can’t remember for sure), I heard that Phil was no longer at Glenbeigh and had relocated to the Seattle area. I tracked down his address and wrote him a letter inquiring about any speaking engagements he had scheduled. He responded almost immediately and told me of some upcoming presentations in the Midwest. A couple of times I packed up a group of program friends, and we drove for hours to hear him speak. Over the next few years, I continued to focus on my ongoing recovery, worked full time, assisted with the food addiction process group, and periodically corresponded with Phil, as we checked in about our individual recovery. In mid-1993, Phil mentioned in a letter that he had opened a small private practice for people struggling with food and was leading a group of women who were having trouble staying abstinent for any period of time. One evening a week, Phil would prepare an abstinent meal for the group; and after eating, they would process what had happened. While everyone was doing their best to attain and maintain abstinence, the members continued to struggle. Phil could tell that these women might benefit greatly from a deeper level of structure and support like what was offered at Glenbeigh. Unfortunately, none of these women had health insurance that would cover inpatient treatment. Phil, however, had an idea. Always an innovative thinker, he asked, “Why not find a place to meet and recreate the experience of inpatient treatment in a residential setting?” He suggested the group could gather in one of the members’ homes for seven days. One woman offered her home and made arrangements for her husband and child to stay elsewhere. All group members, except one, were on board. Phil’s idea was that he would buy the food, and everyone would cook and eat together. They would peer sponsor each other by committing their food and reporting back after eating. Phil would facilitate process groups and give the same lectures as those at Glenbeigh. “Let’s do it,” they said. Phil discussed his vision with his clinical supervisor, who told him that he needed to have someone assist him … and that it needed to be a woman, since the group was composed of women. His idea was simply to find a woman with strong abstinence to assist him. Phil’s first call was to someone who had been in treatment and at the halfway house with me in 1990. She had gone back to school and was then working as a counselor at Glenbeigh. Phil knew her well and trusted her professional counseling skills and her recovery. When she was unable to accept his invitation, the next person Phil thought of was me. He had some remembrance of me from Glenbeigh, but mostly from the halfway house and our recent correspondence. Phil also recalled something Marge Porter, his supervisor and clinical director, had said about me when they worked together at Glenbeigh. Marge had been my therapist in 1986 at my first treatment center, and we had stayed in touch over the years. It was Marge whom I called in January 1990 when I was bingeing out of control. As it turns out, Marge had once told Phil that if he ever wanted to work with someone, it should be Mary Foushi. Phil remembered this, and when his first choice wasn’t available, he called me and left a voicemail message. After listening to his message, I immediately knew I wanted to go. I took a week of paid vacation from my job and flew to Seattle in September 1993. Phil and I prepared handouts; bought a carload of food; drove to Marysville, Washington; and recreated an experience of inpatient treatment for eight women struggling to get abstinent. The week was amazing. Each of us was abstinent for the entire seven days. As a community, we cooked together, weighed and measured our meals, washed the dishes, cleaned the bathrooms, and emptied the trash. We laughed. We cried. We were rigorously honest about all our thoughts and feelings. Phil and I supported these brave women through some very deep emotional work. During the week, Phil and I realized that we enjoyed working together. Phil had more professional experience with group work than I did, but he assured me repeatedly by telling me to just trust my gut. You’re doing fine, Mary. On our drive back from Marysville, Phil realized that something quite amazing had just happened. We had discovered a way to recreate inpatient treatment in a residential setting for food addicts. After my return to Chicago, Phil and I started talking about how we might do more professional work together. Phil had a lot of exciting ideas that piqued my interest. No surprise there! Within a few months I resigned from my longtime job with a publishing company. I went to Glenbeigh and volunteered my time to get professional training and experience working directly with food addicts. I shared my story at an alumni event at the hospital, I sat in on process groups and lectures, I hung out with clients at meals, I attended twelve-step meetings with them. It was an exciting time of learning for me. It wasn’t long after this that Glenbeigh hospital closed. For years, Phil and another colleague had been leading Glenbeigh alumni recharge weekends up and down the East Coast, and the administration of the hospital asked if they would fulfill the hospital’s commitment to the alumni by continuing these free weekends. When alumni arrived at the retreat in relapse, it became painfully obvious that, with the hospital closed, there was no longer a place to send those who relapsed and needed the structure and support of inpatient treatment. Phil, another colleague, and I brainstormed about how we could offer a deeper level of support on an outpatient basis. In one of our discussions, we decided to form a professional organization that would attempt to offer support in addition to the weekend retreats. We called the new organization ACORN Food Dependency Recovery Services. We chose the name ACORN because Glenbeigh alumni could relate to it. You see, the food plan at Glenbeigh was called the A.C.O.R.N. food plan and stood for the Addictive Concept for Overeater Recovery Needs. We started small, with the first ACORN events held in the Spring of 1994. The following years consisted of frequent alumni recharge weekends and our signature week-long Primary Intensive in a variety of locations. Alumni often offered their homes and/or volunteered to find a location and organize these events. It was a very busy and exciting time. With ACORN’s professional support many food addicts were helped as we grew, mostly by one recovering food addict sharing with another food addict about their experience at events. Phil’s innovative ideas and passion to help food addicts has served thousands of food addicts worldwide. Phil and I worked side by side for over 25 years. In the early years, I often felt insecure and told my sponsor that Phil was so much better than I was and could do things that I could never do. My loving and wise sponsor said to me, “Mary, there are things that Phil can do that you can’t do. And there are things that you can do that Phil can’t do. And together, you make beautiful music for God.” I never forgot that. Our work together was a great blessing in my life. Each time I worked with Phil I learned something new. His skills as a group leader are unequaled. At first, Phil and I were work colleagues. Then we became strong recovery support for one another. This eventually grew into a deep friendship, which eventually grew into a deep love. At last, we were married on March 1, 2014. It was a glorious day of celebration. In 2018, Amanda Leith purchased ACORN. It was Amanda’s desire to carry on the ACORN model of professional support along with her dynamic vision to increase and improve services for food addicts that enabled Phil and me to move forward with this important decision. The name of the business was changed to SHiFT – Recovery by Acorn. With Amanda’s leadership and Raynea’s steadfast support, SHiFT continues to provide effective treatment for food dependency recovery through a variety of programs that meet the needs of those new to recovery (The Acorn Primary Intensive) and alumni seeking to deepen their spiritual and emotional recovery. In 2021, Phil retired, and I followed in 2022. While we no longer worked directly with food addicts, our passion and desire to be of service to food addicts continues to this day.