A binge is a message -- By Geneen Roth
Fitness_Chick
Posts: 6,648 Member
Why Am I Eating This?
A binge is a message--stop and listen to it.
By Geneen Roth, Geneen Roth is the author of six books about emotional
eating, including When Food Is Love.
A few nights ago, I was walking to a party in Manhattan. Halfway
there, I stopped and bought a hot pretzel from a street vendor.
That should have been my first inkling that something was amiss.
Why? Oh, only two minor reasons: I don't like pretzels and I wasn't
hungry.
For someone who has devoted half her life to understanding the reasons
why people turn to food and binge eating when they're not hungry, this
last teeny fact--lack of hunger and eating anyway--is always a red
flag. Usually, when I want to eat and I'm not hungry, I take some
time--at least a couple of minutes--to ask myself what I am feeling.
Usually, I know that no matter what's going on, it's always better to
feel it than to use food to swallow it.
But that night I seemed determined to go unconscious. I pulled off a
hunk of the pretzel, slathered it with mustard, and took a bite. It
didn't taste good, so I took another bite just to make sure that I'd
tasted it right the first time. Still gluey, still bland. I asked the
next homeless person with a "Need Food" sign if he wanted the pretzel.
He told me he was allergic to wheat, so I gave him a few bucks, threw
out the pretzel, and continued on my way to the party.
The moment I arrived, I headed straight for the food. It wasn't
exactly a binge eating paradise--sesame shrimp, polenta cakes, Swedish
meatballs (none of those yummy, deep-fried, trans-fat, or
insulin-hysterical foods), but I made do. Every time a tray came past,
I took what was offered. Then I started following the trays around,
after which I stationed myself in the kitchen and greeted the trays as
they were taken from the oven. I felt like an overstuffed sausage. As
I waddled from room to room, my belly preceded me.
On my way back to my hotel that night, I realized that this was my
first bout of binge eating in 5 or 6 years. If my husband, Matt, had
been around, he would have eyed me and said, "A coupla polenta cakes,
some shrimp, and six bites of cookies hardly doth a binge make..." But
then I would've had to remind him that binge eating is not defined by
the amount of food you eat but by the way you eat it. Two cookies can
be a binge if you eat them with urgency, desperation, and the pressing
need for an altered state. Food is a drug of choice, and when you
binge, you are using your preferred substance to deny, swallow, or
escape your feelings.
I tell my retreat and workshop students that kindness and curiosity
after binge eating are crucial. And so, the next morning, I was kind
to myself.
I was curious. I wanted to know what was going on. Why food had
suddenly seemed like my only salvation.
And here's what I discovered:
I was tired. I was feeling raw and vulnerable from having spent the
day with a dying friend. I wanted to be alone, but I didn't feel like
I had a choice about going to the party, because I'd already agreed to
meet a friend there.
I made a quick decision to go, except, of course, that because I was
binge eating, I didn't really show up at the party. I was preoccupied,
edgy, self-absorbed, and then numb. Not your ideal companion.
What If You Didn't Eat?
Recently, a student of mine--let's call her Rita--had a daughter, her
third child in 6 years. I met her when the baby was a year old. Rita
told me she spends every night binge eating. I asked her why. She
said, "I want to get my own needs met, have someone take care of me.
Sometimes I think I'm going to go crazy and throw my kids out in the
rain just so they'll leave me alone. I feel so awful about myself when
I think these thoughts, but then I remember that I can microwave some
popcorn, pour half a cup of butter on it, and sit in front of the TV
and eat. I remember I have food. That calms me down."
I asked her what would happen if she didn't eat. She said, "I'd end up
feeling awful about myself for having these feelings about my kids." I
said, "Seems like you end up feeling awful about yourself anyway."
"Yeah," she said. "But at least it's for eating and not for being a
terrible mother."
"Who says you're a terrible mother for wanting to leave your kids out
in the rain? Wanting to do it and doing it are different universes," I
said. "What if you let yourself have the full range of your feelings
without judging them or believing that having feelings means acting on
them? What if when your kids went to sleep, instead of eating popcorn,
you sat on the couch with a blanket and just stared into space? Did
nothing for a while? Gave yourself some kindness that didn't also hurt
you at the same time?"
That was 3 months ago. She's had a few binges since then, but she's
also had evenings of letting herself be exhausted without eating,
temporarily hating her kids without having to hurt herself (or them)
for it. She's realized that when she wants to turn to binge eating,
it's a sign she needs to slow down, take some time for herself--even
if it's only 3 minutes--and pay attention to what's actually going on.
Wanting to binge means: Stop, slow down, be curious about why food
seems to be the answer to everything. Wanting to binge is a way to get
your own attention. When you want to binge, it's as if you were
jumping up and down with a banner that says, "I need you to notice me
now!"
So go ahead. Notice yourself. Be kind. Be tender. Be curious. You'll
be surprised at what happens.
Trust me--it'll be good.)
Three-Minute Warning
The next time you want to succumb to binge eating, tell yourself that
you're going to take 3 minutes--only 3--to be with yourself before you
eat. Then, sit down, breathe a few times, and with as much kindness as
you can muster, ask yourself gently what is going on. What do you
need? Whom do you need it from? What would be the kindest thing you
could do for yourself now?
If you still want to eat after you've done this, notice how the food
tastes in your mouth. Notice how you feel after you've eaten. Ask
yourself if eating felt kind.
A binge is a message--stop and listen to it.
By Geneen Roth, Geneen Roth is the author of six books about emotional
eating, including When Food Is Love.
A few nights ago, I was walking to a party in Manhattan. Halfway
there, I stopped and bought a hot pretzel from a street vendor.
That should have been my first inkling that something was amiss.
Why? Oh, only two minor reasons: I don't like pretzels and I wasn't
hungry.
For someone who has devoted half her life to understanding the reasons
why people turn to food and binge eating when they're not hungry, this
last teeny fact--lack of hunger and eating anyway--is always a red
flag. Usually, when I want to eat and I'm not hungry, I take some
time--at least a couple of minutes--to ask myself what I am feeling.
Usually, I know that no matter what's going on, it's always better to
feel it than to use food to swallow it.
But that night I seemed determined to go unconscious. I pulled off a
hunk of the pretzel, slathered it with mustard, and took a bite. It
didn't taste good, so I took another bite just to make sure that I'd
tasted it right the first time. Still gluey, still bland. I asked the
next homeless person with a "Need Food" sign if he wanted the pretzel.
He told me he was allergic to wheat, so I gave him a few bucks, threw
out the pretzel, and continued on my way to the party.
The moment I arrived, I headed straight for the food. It wasn't
exactly a binge eating paradise--sesame shrimp, polenta cakes, Swedish
meatballs (none of those yummy, deep-fried, trans-fat, or
insulin-hysterical foods), but I made do. Every time a tray came past,
I took what was offered. Then I started following the trays around,
after which I stationed myself in the kitchen and greeted the trays as
they were taken from the oven. I felt like an overstuffed sausage. As
I waddled from room to room, my belly preceded me.
On my way back to my hotel that night, I realized that this was my
first bout of binge eating in 5 or 6 years. If my husband, Matt, had
been around, he would have eyed me and said, "A coupla polenta cakes,
some shrimp, and six bites of cookies hardly doth a binge make..." But
then I would've had to remind him that binge eating is not defined by
the amount of food you eat but by the way you eat it. Two cookies can
be a binge if you eat them with urgency, desperation, and the pressing
need for an altered state. Food is a drug of choice, and when you
binge, you are using your preferred substance to deny, swallow, or
escape your feelings.
I tell my retreat and workshop students that kindness and curiosity
after binge eating are crucial. And so, the next morning, I was kind
to myself.
I was curious. I wanted to know what was going on. Why food had
suddenly seemed like my only salvation.
And here's what I discovered:
I was tired. I was feeling raw and vulnerable from having spent the
day with a dying friend. I wanted to be alone, but I didn't feel like
I had a choice about going to the party, because I'd already agreed to
meet a friend there.
I made a quick decision to go, except, of course, that because I was
binge eating, I didn't really show up at the party. I was preoccupied,
edgy, self-absorbed, and then numb. Not your ideal companion.
What If You Didn't Eat?
Recently, a student of mine--let's call her Rita--had a daughter, her
third child in 6 years. I met her when the baby was a year old. Rita
told me she spends every night binge eating. I asked her why. She
said, "I want to get my own needs met, have someone take care of me.
Sometimes I think I'm going to go crazy and throw my kids out in the
rain just so they'll leave me alone. I feel so awful about myself when
I think these thoughts, but then I remember that I can microwave some
popcorn, pour half a cup of butter on it, and sit in front of the TV
and eat. I remember I have food. That calms me down."
I asked her what would happen if she didn't eat. She said, "I'd end up
feeling awful about myself for having these feelings about my kids." I
said, "Seems like you end up feeling awful about yourself anyway."
"Yeah," she said. "But at least it's for eating and not for being a
terrible mother."
"Who says you're a terrible mother for wanting to leave your kids out
in the rain? Wanting to do it and doing it are different universes," I
said. "What if you let yourself have the full range of your feelings
without judging them or believing that having feelings means acting on
them? What if when your kids went to sleep, instead of eating popcorn,
you sat on the couch with a blanket and just stared into space? Did
nothing for a while? Gave yourself some kindness that didn't also hurt
you at the same time?"
That was 3 months ago. She's had a few binges since then, but she's
also had evenings of letting herself be exhausted without eating,
temporarily hating her kids without having to hurt herself (or them)
for it. She's realized that when she wants to turn to binge eating,
it's a sign she needs to slow down, take some time for herself--even
if it's only 3 minutes--and pay attention to what's actually going on.
Wanting to binge means: Stop, slow down, be curious about why food
seems to be the answer to everything. Wanting to binge is a way to get
your own attention. When you want to binge, it's as if you were
jumping up and down with a banner that says, "I need you to notice me
now!"
So go ahead. Notice yourself. Be kind. Be tender. Be curious. You'll
be surprised at what happens.
Trust me--it'll be good.)
Three-Minute Warning
The next time you want to succumb to binge eating, tell yourself that
you're going to take 3 minutes--only 3--to be with yourself before you
eat. Then, sit down, breathe a few times, and with as much kindness as
you can muster, ask yourself gently what is going on. What do you
need? Whom do you need it from? What would be the kindest thing you
could do for yourself now?
If you still want to eat after you've done this, notice how the food
tastes in your mouth. Notice how you feel after you've eaten. Ask
yourself if eating felt kind.
0
Replies
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Why Am I Eating This?
A binge is a message--stop and listen to it.
By Geneen Roth, Geneen Roth is the author of six books about emotional
eating, including When Food Is Love.
A few nights ago, I was walking to a party in Manhattan. Halfway
there, I stopped and bought a hot pretzel from a street vendor.
That should have been my first inkling that something was amiss.
Why? Oh, only two minor reasons: I don't like pretzels and I wasn't
hungry.
For someone who has devoted half her life to understanding the reasons
why people turn to food and binge eating when they're not hungry, this
last teeny fact--lack of hunger and eating anyway--is always a red
flag. Usually, when I want to eat and I'm not hungry, I take some
time--at least a couple of minutes--to ask myself what I am feeling.
Usually, I know that no matter what's going on, it's always better to
feel it than to use food to swallow it.
But that night I seemed determined to go unconscious. I pulled off a
hunk of the pretzel, slathered it with mustard, and took a bite. It
didn't taste good, so I took another bite just to make sure that I'd
tasted it right the first time. Still gluey, still bland. I asked the
next homeless person with a "Need Food" sign if he wanted the pretzel.
He told me he was allergic to wheat, so I gave him a few bucks, threw
out the pretzel, and continued on my way to the party.
The moment I arrived, I headed straight for the food. It wasn't
exactly a binge eating paradise--sesame shrimp, polenta cakes, Swedish
meatballs (none of those yummy, deep-fried, trans-fat, or
insulin-hysterical foods), but I made do. Every time a tray came past,
I took what was offered. Then I started following the trays around,
after which I stationed myself in the kitchen and greeted the trays as
they were taken from the oven. I felt like an overstuffed sausage. As
I waddled from room to room, my belly preceded me.
On my way back to my hotel that night, I realized that this was my
first bout of binge eating in 5 or 6 years. If my husband, Matt, had
been around, he would have eyed me and said, "A coupla polenta cakes,
some shrimp, and six bites of cookies hardly doth a binge make..." But
then I would've had to remind him that binge eating is not defined by
the amount of food you eat but by the way you eat it. Two cookies can
be a binge if you eat them with urgency, desperation, and the pressing
need for an altered state. Food is a drug of choice, and when you
binge, you are using your preferred substance to deny, swallow, or
escape your feelings.
I tell my retreat and workshop students that kindness and curiosity
after binge eating are crucial. And so, the next morning, I was kind
to myself.
I was curious. I wanted to know what was going on. Why food had
suddenly seemed like my only salvation.
And here's what I discovered:
I was tired. I was feeling raw and vulnerable from having spent the
day with a dying friend. I wanted to be alone, but I didn't feel like
I had a choice about going to the party, because I'd already agreed to
meet a friend there.
I made a quick decision to go, except, of course, that because I was
binge eating, I didn't really show up at the party. I was preoccupied,
edgy, self-absorbed, and then numb. Not your ideal companion.
What If You Didn't Eat?
Recently, a student of mine--let's call her Rita--had a daughter, her
third child in 6 years. I met her when the baby was a year old. Rita
told me she spends every night binge eating. I asked her why. She
said, "I want to get my own needs met, have someone take care of me.
Sometimes I think I'm going to go crazy and throw my kids out in the
rain just so they'll leave me alone. I feel so awful about myself when
I think these thoughts, but then I remember that I can microwave some
popcorn, pour half a cup of butter on it, and sit in front of the TV
and eat. I remember I have food. That calms me down."
I asked her what would happen if she didn't eat. She said, "I'd end up
feeling awful about myself for having these feelings about my kids." I
said, "Seems like you end up feeling awful about yourself anyway."
"Yeah," she said. "But at least it's for eating and not for being a
terrible mother."
"Who says you're a terrible mother for wanting to leave your kids out
in the rain? Wanting to do it and doing it are different universes," I
said. "What if you let yourself have the full range of your feelings
without judging them or believing that having feelings means acting on
them? What if when your kids went to sleep, instead of eating popcorn,
you sat on the couch with a blanket and just stared into space? Did
nothing for a while? Gave yourself some kindness that didn't also hurt
you at the same time?"
That was 3 months ago. She's had a few binges since then, but she's
also had evenings of letting herself be exhausted without eating,
temporarily hating her kids without having to hurt herself (or them)
for it. She's realized that when she wants to turn to binge eating,
it's a sign she needs to slow down, take some time for herself--even
if it's only 3 minutes--and pay attention to what's actually going on.
Wanting to binge means: Stop, slow down, be curious about why food
seems to be the answer to everything. Wanting to binge is a way to get
your own attention. When you want to binge, it's as if you were
jumping up and down with a banner that says, "I need you to notice me
now!"
So go ahead. Notice yourself. Be kind. Be tender. Be curious. You'll
be surprised at what happens.
Trust me--it'll be good.)
Three-Minute Warning
The next time you want to succumb to binge eating, tell yourself that
you're going to take 3 minutes--only 3--to be with yourself before you
eat. Then, sit down, breathe a few times, and with as much kindness as
you can muster, ask yourself gently what is going on. What do you
need? Whom do you need it from? What would be the kindest thing you
could do for yourself now?
If you still want to eat after you've done this, notice how the food
tastes in your mouth. Notice how you feel after you've eaten. Ask
yourself if eating felt kind.0 -
wow that was a great story, It really enlightened me to see things that I didn't realize not only about myself but also with my mother who is very obese.0
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stumbled across this - thank you so much for sharing.0
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Good read, thanks.0
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bump0
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A homeless guy with a wheat allergy...Only in America....Lol..:laugh:0
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Wow! Powerful....and right on the money! I'm going to try to print this out so I can carry it with me. Thank you, thank you!0
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Awww I loved this and I think I do the exact same thing with food. Must remember to take the 3 minutes for myself!0
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Thank you!!0
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bump for how vital this is to know0
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I love Geneen Roth. She has some great insights.0
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very interesting0
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thanks for sharing that, i enjoyed reading
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I love reading Geneen Roth's books (check them out!) Thanks for sharing!0
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Awesome. Bloody awesome post.0
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THANK YOU for this powerful message. I always eat when I'm not hungry. I notice I do it when I'm bored, stress, and any type of mood I'm in. Especially at work!!! When my stress levels are high. Thank you again!! I'll try this!!!0
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Bump to re-read later.0
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BUMP...so true.0
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Which book does this passage come from? I would love to read the whole work. This is great!0
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BEAUTIFUL WORDS OF TRUTH. THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR SHARING THIS0
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Just what I needed to hear today. Thank you.0
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Thanks for posting this. I usually eat well but it always seems that I sabotage myself by having random large binges. I'll try my best to use your advice next time.
Although I've often tried to help out homeless people or people coming up asking for help. Not to be too cynical, but very rarely do they want the help, they just want the money. There is usually some excuse why they just need the money and not the help. Last week someone came up to me at the gas station saying they'd run out of gas and needed money to buy some. I offered to buy a gas can, fill it with gas, and drive them to their out of gas car. I forget the excuse but somehow that wouldn't work for them.
Same thing with a woman who asked me for money to buy groceries. I just happened to have finished shopping and offered her anything I had bought. I forget why she said no but again she just wanted the money.
It always depresses me because I want to help people out but I don't want taken advantage of or to help fuel a drug or alcohol addiction. I've only twice ever had someone take me up on my offer of help instead of money (bought someone dinner, bought someones groceries).
Somehow I am skeptical of a wheat allergy. It strikes me as more likely just another one of those denials of help so help could be given in the form of money.
Sorry to digress. Kinda a pet peeve. But again thanks for the wonderful article. I'm going to print it out and try and make sure I read it next time I'm descending into a binge.
-Brett0 -
Thanks for sharing this. It really puts things into perspective.0
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BUMP, need to keep this around. Thank you0
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Great Read, Thanks for sharing!0
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Great Post0
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Love this. Thanks for posting.0
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Fantastic and sooooo true! Only ever overeat at night having had an awful day and feeling low and exhausted. Will definately try the 3 minute rule next time I feel that way...thank you0
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I sooooo needed to read this today. Perhaps today will be the first of many that I don't cave in to the blueberry muffin from the cafeteria here at work. I'm never hungry when I eat it, but the work stress has been mounting over the last few weeks. It's several hundred calories that I do not need and, ultimately, do not even want.0
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Thank you for posting this. Definately going to check out Geneen Roth.0
This discussion has been closed.
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