Let’s stop for a minute and talk about our brains and our relationship with them.  Yes, they are part of us, and they are the most complex part – by a longshot.  The brain is made up of 100 billion neurons – cells that work together to make up our minds.  It is, by far, the most sophisticated computer ever designed – by an exponential factor.

What makes those of us that are compulsive eaters different from other humans with the same type brains?  In 12-Step land, the second Step speaks about the word “insanity,” a word which people sometimes find offensive.  How can you say I’m insane?  Yes, I have a problem with food, but I otherwise lead a productive life.

What is spoken about in this case concerns a very narrow band of faulty thinking, not a generalized situation of mental illness.  A while back, I found a definition of “insanity” that fits addiction perfectly.  The definition says: “a state of mind that prevents normal perception.” 

While we can handle most mental functions perfectly well, these functions depend on our perceptions.  Our perceptions start with the input from our senses, but then build on that data to include information from past experiences, assessments of situations and a myriad of factors that culminate with us making decisions that lead to actions.

In this one area, however, our judgment is warped by our disease.  I always like to say that if you think of your brain as that computer, the disease is corrupting the data on which you make your decisions – and on just this one topic.  Thus, as a story from the AA Big Book illustrates, putting whiskey in a glass of milk and thinking it will prevent anything bad from happening seems like a perfectly sound and logical idea (it wasn’t).

Let’s go back to the computer analogy.  A computer, compared to the brain, is very simple – however much more complex than most other man-made inventions.  A computer, if broken down to three simple components, is made up of:

1)         The input

2)        The “thinking”

3)        The output

What are the inputs of a computer?  Things like the keyboard, the mouse, the camera, the microphone, the disk drive, and the USB drive.  These components allow the computer to interact with us, or how we tell the computer to do something we need to have done.  Often, we enhance the functioning of the computer by adding “extra thinking” in the form of computer programs.  This goes into the “memory” of the computer, items such as the hard disk drive.

What makes up the “thinking” part of the computer?  There are the various circuits and chips on the motherboard of the computer, all of which interact with each other.  Additionally, we included those programs loaded into the computer to help it “think.”

What are the outputs of the computer?  Things like the monitor, the printer, and the speakers.  These are the devices that return information to us at output, based on the combination of our input and the thinking of the computer.

Let’s take the most basic of operations as an example.  Previously, we had loaded a math program into the computer to help us with our math (thus making it an incredibly expensive calculator).  We type into our keyboard “What is 7 times 6?” and hit enter.

That input routes down to the math program.  The math program does its magic and returns information via the output devices.  In this case, it rings a little “ding” on our speaker and on the screen, it says: “42.”

That answer is not open to change.  7 times 6 is – and forever will be – 42.  Why?  It’s that way because the computer works solely on the logic programmed into it.  This operation isn’t open to interpretation.  That computer doesn’t have moods, but even if it did and was having a bad day, the answer would still be 42.

Now let’s look at our brains.  We also have input devices:  our eyes, our ears, our senses of feeling, taste, and smell.  I always joke that humans are born with all hardware, but no software.  We then all went through years of loading that software:  it was called school and involved facts.  Up until this point, it is very much like a computer. 

Then, however, we throw a monkey wrench into the works.  In addition to the facts we loaded in, we loaded in emotions.  We also loaded in years of memories, some of them hurtful, some of them traumatic.  We also load in memories of how we have responded in the past.  This allows us to save time by bringing to the fore how we handled certain things in the past so that we can use a “shortcut” that allows us to follow that previously used path again – often over and over.  I used the word “path” for a reason:  it corresponds with what we know now are parts of the brain called “neural pathways.” 

Think of a vast, grassy field that is empty, with no roads, and we have to drive a car across it.  Chances are if we drove it once without hitting any obstacles (big rocks, holes, etc.), we’ll probably follow those tracks in the future.  Now imagine we continue to use that path in all sorts of weather.  Eventually, we’re driving on dirt, and in the rain, it turns to mud.  We push grooves into that mud that remain, even after everything dries.  After that, we will continue to drive that path, which will work fine, as long as we don’t try to move out of it.  If we do, the ruts we have been driving in will work against our being able to change direction easily.  This is the analogy of neural pathways.  It’s why it makes repeated behaviors – whether called habits or in more extreme cases addiction – so hard to change.

Moving back to the computer/brain analog, we have taken some input into our brains that requires us to take an action.  The decision on what action to take is done by the thinking part of our brains. Unlike the computer, however, that input is now interfacing with our feelings, our memories, and often using those tracks in the mud. 

Let’s say you have an upsetting event, which causes you to feel emotional pain.  Or, something comes in via the senses that brings up the memory of using food for comfort.  This brings up the euphoric memory.  Both of these things are triggers.  We then look for the shortcut, and there it is:  let’s go binge!

At this point, let’s just stop for a moment and look at the difference between an addict’s brain and a non-addict’s brain.  At the same decision point, a non-addict sees the same thing in terms of triggers, but usually won’t think of eating (or drinking or drugging).  That person will deal with the emotions in many ways, but chances are none of them will usually involve a substance. 

Or… maybe that non-addict does consider going to a substance for comfort.  The non-addict will then weigh that decision based on a number of factors:  what happened the last time I did this?  Did it work?  Were there any negative ramifications then?  Are there any now?  This last part of the decision-making process does not exist in the addict.  This is part of “the disease”:  it has corrupted the data addicts can use on which to make a rational, well thought out “should I” or “shouldn’t I?” decision.

Moving back to the process of thinking:  Having taken whatever input has come into the thinking part of the brain, the brain makes a decision and sends its information back as the output, in this case:  a thought.

This recovery program you’re reading about here relies on one important thing:  operating by looking at thoughts, not from thoughts.  Instead of acting on that thought, we stop and examine it.  Going back to something I mentioned earlier, now is the time to ask yourself “What is that thought telling me?”  This change in perspective is a very important way of re-framing your thinking about your thoughts.  Doesn’t that last sentence make your head spin?  That’s okay.  It will get easier to understand.

In the past, when I had an urge to relapse, that thought was fused with the pre-programmed actions that followed.  The disease might as well have been a puppeteer pulling the strings making my body, arms, and legs snap into motion.  Many times, that thought immediately set the relapse in motion.  There might as well have been no time between the first thought and the first bite.

At other times, I would get the thought and think “No, I’m going to stay abstinent” and try to fight it.  I’d try to put it out of my mind, doing something to distract myself.  Meanwhile, that thought sat there, cooling its heels, knowing it could snap back into action as soon as there was silence in my head.  Near the end of my relapse cycle, one of the thoughts in my head was “Why bother delaying this?  I’m just going to eventually eat anyway.” 

Here’s the one thing I never did:  It never dawned on me that I could stop and look at the thought.  I never said to myself “Huh… look at this.  I’m having an urge to go eat – to go break my abstinence.  I wonder what that’s about?”  I certainly never teased the thought away from any succeeding action – in other words, defusing the thought from the subsequent action.  I just moved on in my zombie-like pursuit of that first compulsive bite.

Let’s fast forward and say you’re now trying to follow this program and the urge to eat comes into your head.  Instead of acting on it or trying to fight it, you accept it, you don’t judge it, most importantly, you just observe it.  The next, most obvious question is: “Okay, so I’ve observed the thought, now what?”

This brings us to the next step, which is addressed in the next article.