In looking back on why it took me so long to get long term abstinence, I realize it was partly due to my inability to “get” that compulsive eating is truly a disease. I would go to meetings and my lips would say “disease” whenever I talked about it, but in retrospect, I didn’t believe it.  I think my thoughts were: “If you folks want to call it a disease, and it makes you feel better, then fine – call it a disease.”  It wasn’t until much later that I came to believe it was a real disease. What led me to that different conclusion took further analysis of the disease after my own horrendous slip.

Is compulsive overeating a disease in the standard definition of the word? A disease is a pathological condition that affects part of an organism. Using that definition, can we identify the disease’s causes scientifically? My answer is “not yet.”  To say that we never will would be folly. I truly believe it will only be a matter of time before scientists come to isolate some physiological aspects of this disease, just like they have done with alcohol.

When the A.A. Big Book was written, the writers spoke of how certain drinkers passed that “invisible line” where their ability to have a choice about stopping – once drinking had started – was erased. Scientists have, in recent years, found an enzyme called alcohol dehydrogenase that has been shown to have a significant role in alcoholism and the body’s ability (or inability in the case of alcoholics) to metabolize alcohol. Thus, science often lags behind that which is already commonly known to those who suffer from the disease.

Let’s think about the concept of disease for a moment. People get cancer, which is considered a disease – but is it really some foreign thing? No. In the case of cancer, it’s an abnormal growth rate in cells.  In other words, people suffering from cancer are growing those cells themselves. Nobody however, considers that the cancer sufferers want it and wouldn’t choose to not have those cells reproducing if they had a choice in it.

In the case of compulsive eating, the disease affects how our brains function with respect to food. Because it’s in our brains – and because we can’t (yet) show a picture of “compulsive eating cells,” it’s easy to dismiss the concept of it being a disease.  If we suffered from epilepsy – another brain disease – we wouldn’t feel guilty about having a seizure, because that’s one of the symptoms of epilepsy.  

Scientists have already been able to show via brain scans how addicts’ brains “light up” (show increased brain activity in the pleasure centers) when the substance they are addicted to is introduced into their systems.  Moreover, the brain even “lights up” when simply being shown pictures of the substance!

The main difference between cancer and compulsive eating is that compulsive eating is a cognitive disease.  It involves our thinking rather than manifesting itself in extra cells which can readily be identified.  This makes it even harder for us to identify within ourselves.

Often we feel guilty about giving in to the food, not realizing we didn’t give into the food, the disease convinced us to give into the food urge.  The main reason we do “give in” is because we don’t recognize where we stop and the disease begins.  We say things like “I was bad last night” or “I am so weak around the food.” 

I always liken the disease of compulsive eating to that of the world’s best salesman. Imagine a salesman who is the most charming, likable person – who also is the smoothest talker on the planet. Now imagine he is selling something that you really like, but have decided was no longer good for you. That salesman already has a half a foot in the door, doesn’t he? Now imagine that this salesman can also read your mind. Whatever you’re going to say to decline the offer, he has a logical counter argument all ready to go. Imagine how hard it would be to say “no” to that salesman. That is the disease of compulsive eating.

Now here’s the nastiest part of that salesman’s “pitch”: when he’s done, and he’s “made the sale” (and you’ve picked up the food), he leans over and whispers in your ear: “remember, this was your idea all along.”

Was it really your idea? If it was, would you be going to all those meetings? Why would you be doing all the work to try to stay abstinent? Of course it wasn’t your idea, it was the disease’s idea. At the exact moment of impulse, the disease won the day and made the sale. In my opinion, the reason the disease wins and makes the sale so often is that people don’t really understand the concept of addiction and the disease of compulsive eating.

The trouble with all diseases is that the bad cells often live right alongside the good cells. This is also the case with compulsive eating. The part of my brain that tells me I need to go eat lots of food when I am having bad feelings resides right along the other cells in my brain that have provided me with plenty of good and reasonable thinking in my life.  If that “salesman” sounded foreign – like Darth Vader's voice booming “you must compulsively eat” – it would be a lot easier to identify and resist.  The trouble is that the “little voice” that tells me to go eat sounds just like the voice that told me a second ago where to turn left on the way to the store.   What I need to do is listen for what that voice – the salesman’s voice actually – is saying to me rather than how it sounds.

The main point of all this is that even though we might realize we’re powerless over the food, we have limited resources to arrest this disease ourselves.  Why?  Because you can’t fix a broken brain with a broken brain.

As much as I kept trying to do the program myself, those efforts were a total failure because that “disease brain” coexisted right alongside the part of my brain that wanted to recover.  And that disease brain took all of the program knowledge I had and used it against me.  It intercepted all attempts to “get ahead” of the problem.  It also convinced me that true recovery was right around the corner.  It wasn’t – at least until I was willing to totally surrender and get help.

The real beginning of recovery for me came when I read a definition of the word “insane” in a dictionary.  The definition said “a state of mind that prevents normal perception.”   I had always accepted my powerlessness on the surface, but not enough to think I couldn’t find a way to conquer the problem myself. 

Now, reading that definition of insanity, the flaw in my thinking became apparent.  How could I trust my judgment on things like a food plan when I had the flawed perception mentioned in that definition?  It was then that I truly understood that I needed to ask for help.  In other words, I began to look for “a power greater than myself.”  Thus, I had finally admitted I was powerless and simultaneously taken Step 2.

The key then to Step 3 for me was being willing to go up to someone and ask them to be my sponsor.  I was also finally willing to give up and take direction without reservation.  I understood intuitively that this was the only way it was going to work, through total surrender.  Otherwise my diseased brain would continually try to subvert any attempts to recover.  It would try to negotiate my food plan and my recovery.  As much as I loved cafeterias, the cafeteria plan doesn’t work with 12 Step recovery.  One of the most dangerous phrases bandied about in program is:  “Take what you want and leave the rest.”  That phrase is certainly fine if you're talking about things said at meetings, but not about the program of recovery.  If I “took what I wanted and left the rest” when I was trying to come back from my horrendous relapse, I would probably still be out there – or dead.

Today, many years back from that horrible relapse cycle, there is still an occasional knock on the door from that “salesman.”  The thought of eating certain “red light” foods still pops into my head from time to time, as it does all compulsive eaters.  The difference now is that I can recognize that salesman – or rather the disease thoughts in my head – as just that:  the disease.  I can always fight an enemy coming at me, but I’m totally lost if I convince myself that for that moment I just “changed my mind” about eating (for the 4,000^th time).

Today I know where I stop and the disease starts.  As a result, that “salesman” goes away knowing it’s a “no sale” day.