When I was very young I was thin. Not stick skinny, just thin like a girl who ate normally and was active, riding my bike, running around the neighborhood, playing games and just living a normal life. Then the beast arrived. I think when my father came home and asked my mother for a divorce, he brought the beast with him.

I have such vivid memories of comforting myself with food as a child. My father left, my mother had an emotional breakdown and both stopped parenting my siblings and me.

The beast originally showed up to help me. No one loved me, but food sure did. It helped me cope with my problems. And unfortunately it still does. The food fills a void, emptiness, a sadness that is so profound.

Way back when we lived in a beautiful home with a guesthouse. My grandmother was getting up in years and after my grandfather died, she moved into the guesthouse. She was close-by, but still somewhat independent. When my parents started fighting in front of us kids, I would take refuge at my grandmother’s house. She was a tall thin woman who barely ate. She must have seen what the effect the fights had on us kids because she started stocking the house with peanut butter, jelly, butter, white bread, cookies and ice cream. When my parents would fight, I’d leave the house and spend time with her. She let me watch old movies and stuff myself silly. I would sit for hours and watch old black and white movies and eat until I was full, not just physically full but emotionally full as well.

I’d sit in her house and make not one, but two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. They completed me. I would easily devour two sandwiches and a dozen chocolate chip cookies with milk. I’d feel so sated, so peaceful, so loved. I’d head back home and some how I was able to ignore the fights, the tension and the unhappiness all around.

People who are fat often say they eat like a normal person, they don’t binge or eat a box of cookies, I say Bullshit. These people may not eat a bag of cookies, but it’s certainly not like they’re having salad for dinner every night. They are eating what all Americans eat – fried foods, white bread, candy, soda, ice cream. They are probably eating in one day what most healthy eaters consume in a week. They don’t exercise and a lot of them can’t work. For the most part they stay home and feel sorry for themselves. How do I know this? Because that is what I was like…or maybe I’m still like that.

I haven’t beaten the beast; hell I’ve barely confronted it. It’s so easy, isn’t it? To file those feelings away or completely ignore they even exist. It’s like a woman who knows her husband is cheating or that she’s just not happy in her life, ignore it and it will go away.

But weight problems and food issues don’t go away. The cliché is true – an alcoholic can stop drinking, a drug addict can stop using, hell even a “sex addict” (if there is such a thing) can stop having sex, but a food addict must continue to eat. There is no cold turkey with a food addict.

So what’s the answer? Stop over eating. Stop stuffing your face like you’re stuffing your problems. Face your fears, face your problems, and confront your beast.