Step 2, Question 4

4. In what ways have I continued to try to find comfort in excess food, long after it began to cause me misery?

This question gets at the heart of my compulsive eating addiction, and shows how sick I truly am. How many "morning after"s have there been, where I tell myself that was the last time, only to be back to food within hours? I have eaten beyond the point of being physically ill, each bite more painful than the previous, and yet I continue to search for comfort in the bottomless pit of food. On a very recent trip to Geneva, I ate so much that I feared I had inflicted some genuine physical damage. I could barely move, barely breathe, my inflamed stomach was stretched to its limit. Clearly, the excess food had made me no happier than whatever I could have possibly been feeling before the binge. Instead of exploring downtown Geneva or the wonderful hotel lounge with live music, I was upstairs, alone in my room, on the toilet or sprawled on my bed. All of my energy had been sucked out of me; I was a tender blob, furious with what I had done to myself, and terrified of the magnitude of this disease. I prayed to have the compulsion removed and to finally let go of the urge to seek comfort in food.

And yet the next day, I repeated the event almost exactly, misery included. Why do I do this? I know the food will only aggravate my problems (especially the problem of having overeaten!). But some part of me refuses to learn. Some part of me is grasping on so tightly to this deplorable behavior, this mountain of food. It's because there is a very real physical reaction to (over)eating compulsively. When I'm eating, that's all there is in the world. My emotions are snuffed out, my worries and cares are paused, my to-do list is thrown out the window; I have no more responsibilities, nothing to achieve, no one to impress. A warm numbness washes over me, the tastes make me high with pleasure. I am rebelling against society, against my husband and family, against myself. It feels like freedom. But it's not. I am a slave to my compulsive eating. When I begin to binge, I know longer have a say in the matter. All my good intentions and hopes for a healthy, abstinent day are disregarded and my self-esteem is destroyed. I can not stand to look at myself in the mirror or even think about what I've just done. It steals my happiness and my husband's happiness. It steals the life that we have planned for the future. It steals my health, and puts me in serious physical danger. There is no freedom in binge eating whatsoever, and yet I am sick enough to keep going back to it again and again.