My Confession as a Binge Eater
The relationship between food and my body could use a whole lot of help.
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It took some time for me to finally admit this.
Not only to myself but out loud. It’s no secret to those that know me. Those who can see the physical changes over the past few years. What I do in private, shows in public.
Binge eating.
I have an eating disorder. I handle my emotions with food. And even as I write this, it seems so silly. So minute. So small on the scale of other addictions.
When I think of an eating disorder, I default to bulimia and anorexia. But I’m not afraid of food. I run to it. Binge eating is consuming large amounts of food even when you don’t feel hungry. To the point of discomfort.
I binge when I want to numb my anxiety and stress. Even if the stress is good, as in I’m excited about a new project I’m working on, I will overcompensate the feeling with eating.
I get that high. That hit of dopamine from comfort food. It’s a cycle of insanity that I can’t for the life of me escape.
My relationship with food is f*cked up.
Extreme dieting has played a major part in my adult life. After having babies and gaining more weight than I should with each pregnancy, I’ve struggled with maintaining a healthy body and mindset.
I had my first taste of diet pills and was hooked. If it was on the shelf, I tried it.
Hydroxycut, Xenadrine, and Alli; each promising a jump start to the weight loss journey. Eventually coming to realize the diet pills were adding to my anxiety, I stopped.
Ok, so what’s next?
Juice cleanse; sure why not? I went a week with only consuming green juice to shed 10 pounds. I wasn’t doing it for the health benefits if any. I did it for vanity and to have that quick fix.
But quick doesn’t fix anything.
When I did approach weight loss the ‘healthy’ way, I was obsessed with working out and counting calories. Gym classes every day. Weight lifting and running. All of which were great and beneficial but my mindset was in the…
