Women’s Health JULY 2019 | 59
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The term ‘binge’ gets thrown around. But how does it feel to be locked in
an emotionally destructive cycle? One woman reveals how she looked
binge eating disorder in the eye and built a healthier relationship with foodWHAT IS...BINGE EATING
DISORDER?
BED is an eating disorder
that involves repeatedly
bingeing on food – often
eating until uncomfortably
full or when not hungry – at
least once a week for at least
three months. During these
binges, a person will typically
feel like they’ve lost control
and eat a large volume of
food in a short space of
time. There is often shame
and guilt associated with
binge eating, so it’s often
done in secret. Unlike bulimia
(another eating disorder,
where binges are also
common), the individual
doesn’t try to compensate
for their binges through
exercise or by making
themselves sick. If you worry
you may be experiencing
symptoms of BED, seek
support from your GP.
Dr Sarah Vohra, consultant
psychiatrist and author
@themindmedicI had to take back control of what passed
my lips before the next binge struck.
It took Andy proposing to me in 2016 for
me to look my binge eating in the eye and
begin to work through the feelings that were
keeping me locked in this cycle. It sounds
like such a cliché, but choosing my wedding
dress was a pivotal moment for me. Our
wedding represented so much happiness, and
I didn’t just want to look my best on the day,
I wanted to feel healthy in body and mind –
for our wedding day, and for our marriage.
So I did some research into my behaviour.
I wanted to know why food had so much
power over me, and why I couldn’t stop
eating once I’d started. I soon came across
the term ‘binge eating disorder’. Reading
other people’s accounts of living with it
was a comfort. I’d isolated myself with my
bingeing, and reading how other sufferers
had built a healthier relationship with food
gave me hope that I could do it, too.
Much of the advice I found online was
about self-compassion, and doing more of
what you love. For me, that’s exercise, so I
signed up with a PT. It helped that I could
confide in him, too. When, at the start of one
session, I reeled off everything I’d eaten that
week, he looked at me without judgement.
I think finally opening up to someone took
some of the power away from bingeing. It
felt liberating to be able to acknowledge that
this is how I used to behave, and that I was
taking positive steps to change.
But the biggest shift for me came from
changing the way I thought and spoke about
food. I bought books on personal development
and intuitive eating and, on their advice, tried
to stop labelling foods as ‘good’ or ‘bad’. My
new ‘rules’ involved adding whole foods to
my diet and avoiding the sugar-laden snacks
that used to set me off. I taught myself to
cook, too, and I found that filling up on
veg-packed stir-fries and baked fish was
another kind of self-compassion – the kind
that comes from nourishing your body.
I didn’t stop bingeing overnight; it’s been
a long process of learning and unlearning
habits. Always having healthy snacks with me,
like fruit, seeds, nut butter and yoghurt has
been helpful. I employ distraction techniques,
too – if ever I feel an urge to binge, I’ll put on
a pair of rubber gloves and start cleaning. It
might sound strange, but immersing myself
in a task like this really does help.
By the time I flew to Lanzarote last July to
marry Andy, I felt genuinely healthy, in body
and mind. Eating pasta in the sun in the run-up
to the big day would’ve been impossible two
or three years ago. But adopting an intuitive
approach – giving my body what it wants,
and needs – has been transformative for me.
I haven’t binged for over a year now, and I’m
slowly starting to reintroduce some of the
foods I used to binge on, like chocolate. Now
I’m in a much healthier place, it no longer
has the power over me that it used to.Growing up, dinner time equalled fun.
I’d race my siblings to the table and we’d
devour our mum’s homemade lasagne or
curry. But mindlessly consuming second
helpings caught up with me between the
ages of 14 and 16, and I put on around
3st. I was tall for my age, so it wasn’t
obvious, but it dented my confidence
at a time when it was still being shaped.
I began restricting my diet, and in less than a year, I’d
lost 3st. But I was no happier and, worse still, the pressure
I was putting myself under from constant dieting changed
the way I felt about food. If it used to represent fun and
family, now I could only see meals through the prism of
how they’d affect my body, and it led to an all-or-nothing
mindset. By the time I was 17, I was regularly bingeing.
Chocolate was my go-to, along with sugary cereals and
sweets. Any time I felt stressed, I’d go to the shop to buy
a chocolate bar, then end up buying a multipack. Back in
the safety of my bedroom, I’d tell myself I’d only have a
few squares, but I wouldn’t be able to stop. I’d routinely
put away 2,000 calories in 20 minutes, eating until my
digestive system left me in such severe discomfort I’d
have to lie down for hour. I’d feel deeply ashamed. But
without the tools to cope with those feelings, I looked
to the only thing I knew, and I’d return to food once
again. For some people, those feelings of guilt cause
them to purge, and they vomit it all up. But I was never
even tempted – I’m so squeamish about vomit.
By the time I reached my mid-twenties, bingeing had
become my coping mechanism. Food was inextricably
linked with my emotions, so I’d binge any time I felt low
or stressed; but, working as a teacher, my stress levels were
often beyond my control. Sometimes I’d binge every
few days, other times it would be weeks before I felt
that familiar urge. As I’m tall and exercise three times a
week, my fluctuating weight wasn’t always obvious, and
no one knew what I was doing – not even my partner,
Andy. Every Monday, I’d start a new ‘diet’, telling myself‘I crammed
food into my
mouth to numb
my emotions’
THE CASE
STUDY
Aisling Daly, 33, a
secondary school
teacher from CorkS T R O N G
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