Ignoring The Urges to Binge

In her book Brain Over Binge, Kathryn Hansen shares the solution to ending binge eating: ignoring the urges to binge. That's it. Plain and simple. She goes into greater detail about how to do this, but her ultimate solution is simple and profoundly smart.

For me, however, it hasn't proved easy.

Let's be real. I am not a very zen person, so the concept of acknowledging the urges to binge as "neurological junk" and then letting them pass is tough to wrap my mind around. When my brain says "look, no one is home and you have a cabinet full of food!" I seize the opportunity. What can I say, I've always been ambitious.

But at the same time, I acknowledge that the only real way to overcome this behavior that has plagued my life for a decade is to rewire my brain so that binge eating is no longer habitual. And the only way to do this is to stop acting on the urges to binge.

In the past, I had some success with this strategy by listening to the urges to binge and then reacting to them in a negative way. For example, when the above thought came fluttering through my mind, I would consciously think, "that is a stupid idea and I don't have to act on it." Fine, true, but can I be honest? Having an angry debate in my head about whether to go raid the kitchen is crazy-making.

Essentially, my strategy amounts to "white knuckling it." Trying with all my might to resist the urge to binge, almost as though I'm an ant frantically grasping the carpet fibers as a giant vacuum attempts to suck me up. Every day feels like a giant question mark. Will I be able to hold out for one more day? Will I binge tonight, or will I be good and go to the gym and eat some veggies? It's a total loss of control, when what I really want is to take control of my life and make deliberate choices about what to feed my body and how to spend my time. I mean, for f*ck's sake, I'm 26.

It turns out I have been doing it wrong. What I need to do is embrace my inner yogi and just let the thoughts pass. Don't react to them. Just acknowledge the urge, and then - miracle of all miracles - don't act on it. Let it pass. Move on.

While it's not about binge eating per se, this article, "Stop Obsessing" by Polly Campbell, has some helpful insights on this process. And surprise, surprise, it's from a website about yoga. Take it away, Polly:

• Experience the thought. Open up to the very thing you’re trying not to think about. Touch it, feel the emotions that come. Let the memories flow. You don’t need to validate it or criticize it, ignore or abandon it. Just allow the thought to be there and notice if it has something to teach you.

• Diffuse the energy behind it. Repeat the thought over and over until the intensity diminishes. Say it out loud in a different voice, maybe that of a cartoon character, or your mother. Create a silly song about the thought.

• Get out of the negative stream. Don’t avoid the thought, but evaluate whether there is something more important you ought to be doing in the moment. Move toward your values, the people you love, the things that make you feel good.

• Practice mindfulness and compassion. Go gently. Negative thoughts are normal; they offer insight to our personality. Accept them, pay attention to them in a softer, nonjudgmental way. Recognize that thoughts aren’t real. Just look at them with curiosity, as an observer. Be open to both the good and bad.

• Hayes likens living gracefully with negative thoughts to driving a car with unruly passengers in the back. You’re the driver, moving toward the place you want to go. The backseat is filled with all your noisy worries and concerns. You notice the noise, but your focus is on the road ahead.

I don't know about this "letting the memories flow" business or repeating the thought, but I really like the last two bullets. It's so easy to berate myself for being stupid or gluttonous or out of control. Instead, why not approach this thing from the perspective of a Xanaxed-out housewife with a martini in one hand and People in the other? Totally passive and calm. So instead of reacting to the urge to binge by thinking, "No! That's a stupid idea and I don't have to listen to it," I could think, "Okay, that's nice, but I don't feel like it." Or even better, just think ... nothing.

I will work on this approach today, and see how it goes. Now, where's my Xanax?

Anatomy of a Binge

It’s 9:00 on a Friday night and I’m staying in to study for an upcoming exam. My fiance is out with friends; our apartment is quiet and peaceful. I sit at the kitchen table on my laptop with a stack of textbooks beside me, waiting to be opened.

I start feeling sorry for myself. I wish I was out with friends too, instead of cooped up inside studying. Actually, I wish I wanted to be out with friends, but really, I feel too fat to be seen in public. Without thinking, I walk over to the cabinet and pull out some almonds. “I’ll just have a snack,” I tell myself. But one handful turns into ten, and I decide to just give in. Tomorrow will be different.

I open the fridge and grab the leftovers from dinner, shoveling them into my mouth as I stand over the counter. Back to the fridge for more food. A gallon of yogurt, gone. More almonds. I start unwrapping Luna bars, one after another, hiding the wrappers in the trash as I eat them. Back to the cabinet. Grab the peanut butter and a spoon. Savor spoonful after spoonful until half the jar is gone. Now I need something salty. A handful of chips. A few glasses of chocolate soy milk. More almonds. Another Luna bar. Make sure to hide the wrapper in the trash.

I desperately want to finish off the brownies sitting on the counter, but I worry that my fiance will notice they’re gone. So I just eat one. Then two. Then five. I rearrange them in the container, hoping he won’t notice. Back to the cabinet for more chips and another spoonful of peanut butter. More almonds.
Finally, I can’t breathe anymore. My head feels foggy. I feel angry with myself for not getting any studying done, and for wasting away my twenties in my kitchen binge eating when I should be out dancing on tables and celebrating life. I feel bad about myself for missing out. For making myself fat. For losing control again.

As I lay in bed, stomach distended and grotesquely full, I feel hopeless and lost. I know that I can’t keep doing this to myself, but I can’t seem to stop. I want so desperately to eat normally. To love my body, and treat it with respect by nourishing it instead of shoving it with more food than it can hold.
I finally start to drift off, promising myself that tomorrow will be different. Tomorrow, I’ll change.