Beating compulsive eating and the repressed emotions behind it

By Sabine Maurer Dec 19, 2011, 3:06 GMT

Hamburg - The weather is miserable and your spirits are low. Many people respond by grabbing a hamburger, scoffing a bar of chocolate or munching potato crisps.

Remorse follows the unhealthy snack as night follows day, as everyone knows about the long-term effects of these cheap calories. However, it is equally true that scarcely anyone develops a craving for carrots, broccoli or an apple.

Nature has made us what we are: we reach instinctively for fat and sugar to fatten up and ward off the lean times.

Comfort eaters need to know that they are not alone in seeking to fight off unhappiness through food. 'We all to tend to compensate for boredom and frustration,' Hamburg psychologist and psychotherapist Michael Schellberg says. He notes that there are far worse alternatives, such as drinking and smoking.

Some people attempt to control feelings of anxiety and insecurity through eating, and food becomes a mechanism for calming the mood. 'It's the soul that's hungry, not the body,' according to Maria Sanchez, a therapist who has run seminars for years on the topic of eating for emotional needs, drawing strongly on the basis of her own experience.

Sanchez herself suffered from eating disorders over a long period, for example gorging herself and then going jogging to compensate. She escaped from this dilemma by listening better to her body, paying heed and confronting the issues through therapy.

Nutrition expert Uwe Knop offers similar advice. Sufferers should first allow themselves to experience what true hunger really feels like. Knop believes many people have lost any sense of this. 'It is completely different to psychologically driven hunger,' he says.

People need to ask themselves what they are suppressing through eating, when they find themselves reaching for fatty foods and sweets even though their bodies do not need food. Another indicator is the speed with which people gobble their fast food, clearly not savouring it.

Knop advises seeking diversion until the craving passes, whether in the form of listening to music, going for a walk or at just pacing the office.

Sanchez has even developed special exercises, such as calmly looking the enemy in the face. The idea is to place the food at the centre of desire on the table in front of you while closely observing your own physical and psychological reactions.

This causes the compulsive eater to take a psychological step back and to observe the situation from a dispassionate viewpoint so that they do not fall victim to their compulsions. At some point the craving to eat should pass. Sanchez says that repeated practice eventually results in the craving disappearing altogether.

Schellberg has additional weapons ready, including seeking out the origins of the frustration and learning how to cope with them. Exercise helps, he says. 'People who play a lot of sport automatically change the way they eat. The body then indicates clearly the nourishment it needs.'

Like other experts he has little time for the idea of simply banning the foods that are the subject of craving, such as avoiding buying chocolate or deciding never to eat fast food. These resolutions never last and often result in consuming more than before. A ban often merely exacerbates the situation.

'The point is not never to eat chocolate again, but rather never to eat chocolate again out of compulsion,' Schellberg says.

And Knop rejects the notion of dividing foods up into healthy and unhealthy. She believes the body alone knows what it needs and ensures a balanced diet by signalling desire for particular foods, provided that we eat only when we are truly hungry.

She notes that amid all the advice on diet, calories and nutrition, an important point goes missing: eating is one of life's great pleasures.

Anyone who occasionally reaches for a chocolate as a result of stress or frustration should not worry. 'The poison is in the amount,' she says. Only those who eat until they feel unwell should seek help.