The trouble was that there was no road between me, the miserable failure, and me, the thin saint. So I retreated to eating and daydreaming. ~ Voices of Recovery (Kindle Locations 60-61).

How do you get there? There’s enough male in me
I’m not likely to stop and ask directions. And if I do,
I can’t remember them or if I jot them down,
read what I wrote.
Even with a GPS I can get miserably lost.
I know the feeling well, There’s  no way there from here.
And I spent decades looking for the psychological path
to the me who had to be possible despite no evidence.
And finally I found the atlas, a book called Alcoholics Anonymous
as well as the road map I personally needed, The Twelve Steps
and Twelve Traditions of Overeaters Anonymous.