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easily identified with each aspect:

      1 Yes, I could pack it away.

      2 In the midst of a binge, I would command my hand to stop shoving cookies into my mouth, but it wouldn't stop.

      3 I would eat so much that my stomach ached intensely. I'd chew a few Pepto-Bismol tablets and curl up in the fetal position until the pain subsided—and then I'd get up and feast some more.

      4 I know I ate because of emotional, not physical, hunger.

      5 I inhaled my food.

      6 I always preferred eating alone so I wouldn't be judged.

      7 Disgusted, depressed, or guilty? Yes, yes, and yes! I was often all three. That's why I became a closet eater in the first place.

      When I was twenty-nine, a friend told me she had attended a Twelve-Step meeting for people with weight issues. “There really is a place like that?” I asked incredulously. Many years earlier, as a child, I had seen the teleplay Days of Wine and Roses, which depicts the total devastation of an alcoholic's life before he achieves sobriety with the help of Alcoholics Anonymous. At that time, I thought, “Wow, I wish there was a place like that for me—I'm a foodaholic.” That's what I'd called myself since the age of twelve. I knew that whenever I started to eat, I didn't want to stop. I had to contain myself or get scolded for eating too much. I knew I had an emptiness no amount of food would fill. Actually, I didn't know that then. But I know it now. Thinking back, I wonder if my appestat (the area of the brain that controls the appetite) was broken.

      I accompanied my friend to the next Twelve-Step support group and, right away, made a decision to follow the 3-0-1 food plan: three meals a day, nothing in between, one day at a time. What a struggle. It was almost impossible for me to refrain from eating between meals. Whenever I drove past my favorite bakery, for example, my car would automatically turn in. At the beginning, over and over again I fell off the wagon, which is how I saw it in my mind. As I continued going to meetings and working the Twelve Steps, I began to get truthful with myself about my feelings and started to let go of the ludicrous notion that I had to be flawless. And, lo and behold, the emotional eating began to wane. When, months later, I drove past the bakery and didn't stop, I was elated. After that first success came many more, and soon I could drive past all bakeries without pulling in.

      Committed to not eating between meals, I developed a technique to delay immediate gratification: If I really wanted a particular food, if something “called” to me, I gave myself permission to have it—tomorrow, and with a meal. For instance, if my husband decided to eat popcorn in the evening while we watched TV and I wanted it, too, I told myself I could have it . . . with a meal . . . tomorrow. And that worked for me. Sometimes I devoured that coveted food with my very next meal (such as popcorn for breakfast!). But at least it was planned for my meal, rather than a binge. Often, though, since I didn't immediately act on the craving, the obsession went away and I forgot all about it.

      As a member of a Twelve-Step Program (and following a specific food plan), I eventually stopped the emotional eating by

       strengthening my spirituality (a belief in a Higher Power who loves me unconditionally),

       becoming honest with myself,

       facing my feelings,

       having a support group,

       admitting my faults,

       making amends,

       journaling,

       healing my Inner Child,

       calming my Inner Critic's voice,

       white-knuckling it.

      My eating behavior now is a far cry from my eating behavior as a child, teen, and young woman, when I was using food as my “fix.” Food used to be my best friend, my savior, my everything. Now food is just food. I enjoy it much more today than when I was rapidly shoveling it in without stopping to savor a single bite.

      Twelve-Step Recovery was my first undertaking in finding myself. I entered those support-group rooms a shame-based woman with low self-esteem, but I presented myself as better than everyone to cover up the inferiority I felt. I had a deep inner desire to let others know who I really was—but I was terrified that when they found out who I truly was, I would be rejected. Taking the risk, I began to disclose myself a little at a time, chipping away at the wall I had constructed. As I came out of hiding, love and compassion were reflected back to me. I no longer felt alone. I had a sense of belonging, and the Twelve-Step fellowships became my family of choice.

      Being a sponsor for many women in Twelve-Step Recovery, and going to therapy myself, paved the way for me to make a career change in 1990. I obtained a master's degree in counseling and became a psychotherapist. As a licensed professional clinical counselor (LPCC), I specialize in working with the Twelve-Step Recovery population, with a focus on eating disorders (mainly binge eating disorder and compulsive overeating). In the 1990s I developed and ran outpatient food abuse treatment weeks, helping clients heal their relationship with food. The participants recognized they were emotional eaters, with anxiety their biggest trigger of all. It was interesting to discover that every attendee had family members who were either alcoholic or obese. Experts agree there is a genetic component to obesity (I had two very large grandmothers) and a heavy correlation with alcoholism.

      For many years, compulsive overeating beat me down until I embraced the tools for change. I have changed, thanks in large measure to a process of uncovering and accepting who I really am. Just like you, I'm not immune to distressing feelings. When I become aware of them, I go to my toolbox to deal with whatever is troubling me, rather than grabbing something to eat to push them away.

      You, too, can conquer emotional eating.

      Let's get started!

      [To download an audio version of Chapter 1, go to www.stopeatingyourheartout.com/MyStoryMP3]

      Chapter 2

      Becoming Self-Honest

       The longest journey is the journey inward, for he who has chosen his destiny has started upon his quest for the source of his being.

       —DAG HAMMARSKJÖLD, MARKINGS

      AS OLIVER HARDY MIGHT HAVE said to his sidekick, Stan Laurel, “This is a fine mess we've gotten ourselves into.” No, they weren't referring to weight, but we certainly can apply that to us!

      Emotional eating, binge eating, compulsive overeating—whatever we want to call it, the actions and results are similar: out-of-control eating often resulting in overweight or obesity. For our purposes here, the words binge eater, compulsive overeater, and emotional eater will be used interchangeably, as they are all meant to imply the same thing—using food to satisfy our emotional needs.

      Emotional overeating involves eating large quantities of food in a short period of time, feeling out of control during these binges, eating rapidly, eating without physical hunger, choosing to eat alone, grazing (nibbling at food all day), and/or feeling depressed about overeating.

      What caused us to become compulsive overeaters? Many of us grew up in homes where we lived with anxiety and found comfort in food. Many of us grew up with criticism and shame and found an escape in food. Many of us grew up believing we were imperfect and needed to hide that feeling of imperfection by stuffing our faces (or, in reality, our bellies). Here is a list that describes some of us. As you read through it, count how many apply to you all or much of the time:

       I am preoccupied with food, eating, and weight.

       I am aware that my eating patterns are not normal.

       I eat when I am not physically hungry.

       I

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