Binge Eating Made Me Want to Kill Myself
Eating disorders are dangerous — don’t underestimate what they are doing to your brain
I originally published this last year, and I’m sending it out again because I think it might help someone out there, especially the men that are suffering in secret.
Eating disorders are more common among men than you would think. But no one talks about it. We need to bring it out in the light, and let people know they aren’t alone in this.
Take male binge eating for example. We treat men who eat WAY too much as a normal, acceptable thing. Who doesn’t know a guy who can take down a whole pizza by himself? What feelings are they burying in food?
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I was either going to get help or cash in my chips and leave the casino. I seriously considered ending my life. Binge eating was ruining everything.
Have you ever thought about how you could end yourself? I came up with a couple of painless ways in a suprisingly short time.
Then I thought about my wife, my children, and all the good things I still had. I was gonna fix this, no matter what.
The root of the problem was emotional trauma, and it manifested as binge eating. It’s a sad and typical story of childhood abuse that I don’t want to get into here.
I have always used food as an escape. I have a history of overeating and a hidden sugar addiction. Closet binges were something I was very familiar with.
So when a surprise betrayal stabbed me in the heart, it bumped me off of the ledge of the cliff to full-on binge eating.
One of the people closest to me ghosted me forever. Our middle child, someone we loved more than life, ditched us on purpose.
She quit her job, moved to an unknown place, got a new phone, and blocked everyone from her old life on social media.
There was no warning. There was no fight. We didn’t see it coming.
It was like she died.
My wife and I cried together. We talked it out with friends. We cried some more.
After a few weeks, I was open about it. I even told my boss, in case it was affecting my work. But the feelings didn’t go away, they just faded into the background.
I thought I was handling it. But in the closet, I went back to my old friend, junk food.
Comfort food never lets a guy down, right?
I started stuffing myself like a Thanksgiving turkey every night.
I was craving that old dopamine reward from sugar and carbs mixed with fat. My favorite? The Frankenfoods that they crank out at McDick’s and Wendy’s and places like that. They are so satisfying while you’re chewing and swallowing.
The supermarket was dangerous too. I would sneak in like I was meeting a drug dealer in a back alley and put a pack of hot dogs, a squeezer of mustard, and some buns in my basket. I’d look around to make sure no one I knew was watching. Then I’d grab some chips and dip, a couple of candy bars, and make for the tills. I didn’t want anyone I knew to see me there.
I could eat all of those hot dogs, follow it up with a family-sized bag of chips, and top it with chocolate, and still be hungry like a starving wolf.
My brain was hijacked. I was not in control of this.
If I had any junk left over at night's end, I’d put it in the garbage can. But I’d ruin it so I wouldn’t dig it out. I’d open containers and pour it all together, so there would be no chance I would want to save it. I squeezed the bread into white lumps and put coffee grounds on the whole mess.
There. That demon was chained now.
The shame and guilt were the worst. I couldn’t admit to anyone that this was going on. Part of the time I was living on the road, so my wife didn’t know what was going on. I dreaded the day she found out.
I think all addicts lie to themselves. It doesn’t matter if they’re hooked on smokes, cocaine, or coke and burgers. We justify our actions with half-formed thoughts and buckle to the cravings.
I always ate fast food in parking lots to get rid of the wrappers and garbage before I went home. That way I could pretend it never happened, and I wouldn’t have to face the truth.
But there was no hiding the 40-plus pounds I packed on in a few short months. Or the brain fog, the desperation, and the mood swings.
The next day after a binge, I would try to counteract the weight gain by doing a ridiculous amount of exercise on an empty stomach. I did extra walking at work, and I went for five-mile runs. I did kettlebell swings.
But as the weight stacked up, running was hurting my knees. So I quit doing it. But I kept eating.
I would make a meal plan and follow it for a couple of days. Salad, chicken breast, whole grains.
Bullshit food that I didn’t want.
And then I would be driving home after a stressful day, and that old inner pig would start squealing about fast food. I was like a possessed man. Feed the pig and forget everything else. Instant gratification. Who gives a crap about losing weight right now?
If I ate even a little bit of anything I knew was bad for me, that pig came all the way out of his sty. That devious porker would convince me to give in and binge. “Well, today’s a write-off now. Might as well make it worthwhile. What else can I get before I go home?”
I would drive from one fast food crime scene to the next.
Get in that lineup, and order a meal. Park and gorge. Sit for a couple of minutes. Then off to the next place and do it one more time.
I paid cash. If I used a card, my wife would see what I bought in the banking app. So, I always made sure to have some twenties in my pocket in case I needed to get my fix.
Let’s add up the calories from one of these binges:
Mcdonalds — Double Quarter Pounder, Large Fries, 10 Chickey Nuggies — 1730 calories without the drink or the hot mustard sauce, which I also had
Wendy’s — Dave’s Double Burger, Large Fries — 1330 calories
Arbies — 3 Classic Beef’n’ Cheddars and a large curly fries — 1450 calories
That’s 4510 calories. Not including any drinks, condiments, or chocolate.
Total calories per day, if I binged, were over 5500 easily.
I’m lucky I didn’t do worse damage to my body, but the real cost was to my soul.
I wouldn’t go to a doctor about this. I trusted doctors as much as I trust a guy named Uncle Touchy to be around small kids.
Doctors are brainwashed by the system into never thinking for themselves or questioning what they don’t know. They talk down to you, prescribe pills, label you with a diagnosis that makes you even more of a victim than you already think you are, and ignore the actual causes of anything. They treat symptoms.
That stubborn male pride got in the way too. There was zero chance of me talking to anyone I knew. The shame was a deep, wide, red river.
So, I looked for someone who might help me online. Thankfully, I found Carlee, a nutrition coach. I decided to take a chance. I signed up for coaching and backed away from the fast food table.
With Carlee’s help, I started working on the physical side of things. She taught me what to eat early in the day that would interupt the binge cycle and change the signals I was sending to my brain.
It turned out that once I had better nutrition, I could start working on the emotional side of things.
Inspired by the experience of being coached, I took courses and became certified as a Primal Health Coach so I could help others with their health.
I’d like to say that’s the end of it. But it isn’t.
After years of the SAD diet (Standard American Diet,) my body and brain are programmed to love foods that are very problematic for me. After eating the wrong things, I get cravings for junk food. And I don’t have a good shutoff switch. I could backslide as easily as any addict, if I let myself.
That’s why I write about getting enough protein, about ways to cut cravings, and why to stay away from the Frankenfoods. I mention my breathing exercises, meditation, workouts, and yoga. I write about the tools that help me stay healthy, both emotionally and physically.
How are you doing? If you’re struggling, there’s hope. You aren’t alone. Talk to someone, get help. Things can change.
If someone you know is having a hard time, then please. Be there for them. Pay attention to signals that things aren’t right with them. Show that you care.
How timely, for this to arrive in my inbox today. After losing 60 pounds, it’s starting to creep back because I’m doing secret eating, again . You know if you don’t see me it doesn’t count. If I eat walking, it doesn’t count. Doing the same thing with over exercising. I care for my mom so they sleep deprivation on top of it. But, today is my first visit with a new therapist. First time in a decade or two.
I’m going to look for a nutritionist as well, thanks to your prod. I think I know everything already, but I don’t and more to the point, I don’t listen to me. I know it’s emotional eating. I know the first one is the trigger. I’m clean & sober 34 years. I know. Oy. Thanks for sharing.
Tim, your vulnerability and honesty in sharing your story are incredibly powerful. Your line, ‘I was either going to get help or cash in my chips and leave the casino,’ speaks volumes about the depth of your struggle. This piece is a raw, yet hopeful reminder that recovery is possible, and you’re providing a crucial voice for men battling in silence. A truly impactful read.