Secret Confessions of a Binge Eater


Several years ago, my (then) husband foolishly ate all my chocolate (note: although that wasn’t the actual reason for our separation, it certainly didn’t help)

Naturally, it sent me into a frenzy worthy of an Academy Award. The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills could eat their heart out, a new reigning diva was on the scene. I went completely wild! Think Wolverine and Sideshow Bob’s love child and you’ve got a pretty clear picture of the drama that followed.

Sure, I could have simply gone to the shop and bought more chocolate. But I didn’t want that chocolate. I wanted my chocolate. The one that was now firmly in HIS belly.


Recently I’ve started reflecting on how far I’ve come on my journey with emotional eating and, err… how far I still have to go.


There are many (many) days where I still battle cravings and eat more than I darn well KNOW that I should.


And yet, I do it.


For the flavour.

The sensation.

The momentary lapse in consciousness when all other responsibility fades away and it’s just me, my chocolate, and 5.7 minutes of orgasmic bliss in my mouth.

And also because, just for that moment, I really am too tired to care.

Thankfully those moments are not a regular everyday occurrence for me anymore but they’re still there. The difference is that now I can see it for what it is. A cry for attention. An avenue of escape. A moment of happiness in an otherwise stressful day. Just because you HAVE the urge to overeat does not mean you need to ACT on it. But you WILL need the right tools for the job and you can find those here.


So, just what does it look like inside the head of a compulsive binge eater?


I needed to look no further than the pages of my old journals.

Some were hopeful. Some were sad.  But most of them were just plain torturous. I was constantly tormenting myself with excruciating calorie counting, dieting, bingeing and more dieting. Not to mention the self hate and debilitating depression.


Curious to find out of mine are anything like yours?


Let the voyeurism begin!


Dear Diary,

I can’t live this way anymore. I’m done. I’m waving the white flag and making another round of half-assed promises to stop bingeing that I already KNOW I’m not going to keep. Why? Because emotional eating has taken over my life. 

I’ve gained almost 10 kilos in the last 4 weeks and I feel fat, weird and VERY uncomfortable. I think about food all day. I fantasise about all the foods I would like to eat and how I can avoid eating them. I can’t even face grocery shopping anymore! I mean, how the HELL am I expected to walk past the junk food isle and not put SOMETHING in my basket? In fact… the whole “junk food isle” is just a joke anyway because they place the chocolate at the start of EVERY isle. I can’t even pass through the health food isle without lusting after the chick-pea chips or nut bars smothered in berries and chocolate. 

God, what has become of me? I want it to end and I want it to end NOW! I feel strange and uncomfortable in my own skin. My legs look swollen and my tummy has rolls of fat that were non-existent just a few short weeks ago.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s not like this was unexpected.

I’ve eaten. I’ve eaten A LOT. I’ve eaten until my stomach ached and I felt physically ill and even then, I kept going. 

I guess I just wanted to make myself feel as bad EMOTIONALLY as I was feeling PHYSICALLY. 

So here I stand. Attempting to ease the pain by telling myself that I will “do better tomorrow”.  Somehow, tomorrow things will be better. Easier. Yes, tomorrow. And so, for now, I will stuff in just one more chocolate bonbon. Just a little more cake. Pizza. And the last of that low fat yoghurt. It didn’t taste that great anyway so I’ll eat it now and save myself the trouble of resisting it tomorrow. 

But why is it that when I eat everything I LOVE, I feel so BAD?

All I ever wanted was to feel free around food. But stuffing my face with chocolate didn’t make me free. Eating cake until my belly hurt didn’t make me free. And hurting my crushing my soul with crackers and cheese did NOT make me free.

YES, I am free to eat anything I want, but what I want is NOT what I am eating.

I want PEACE.

I want CALM.


And most of all, I want LOVE.

But I didn’t find it at the bottom of the cookie tin.

It’s time to try a new tactic. One that will take  compassion, kindness and patience. Yes, it’s a little scary. I have no idea what I’ll find. But I have to try. If I don’t, I won’t survive this, because right now, the pain of self-disgust is too great.

Right now, I’m scared of food and I’m scared of myself.

I feel helpless and hopeless. But if I can just do something, anything, to shift my mental pattern, I KNOW I can overcome this.

Or at the very least.. I’m willing to try.



If any if this sounds even remotely familiar, then remember… support, guidance and strategy is the key to breaking free (yup, it’s a Dr. Seuss moment) and let’s be real, if this was a “do it alone” job, we wouldn’t be here.

Click HERE to find the support, guidance and strategy that’s right for YOU.

Oodles of chocolate coated love!


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