How Do I Know I Am A Compulsive Eater?
Throughout sharing my recovery story, I have had a lot of people ask me how I figured out I was a disordered eater. Did I get diagnosed by a doctor? Did I do an inpatient program? Did I get tested by a shrink?
How did the label “compulsive eater” get pinned to my forehead?
The first thing I want you to know is that I chose that identifier after I got into recovery because the recovery program is for compulsive eating. A compulsive eater can also be seen as someone who has an eating disorder, except that for me, saying, “I have a binge eating disorder,” is simply not sufficient to describe my condition.
Compulsiveness and lack of control are two of several traits that can define most addicts. To be frank, my history with food, as well as other things, was exactly that. I claimed the “compulsive” identifier when I found recovery because I see my affliction as an addiction and not just some mental or behavioral illness that can be cured or helped with pills and therapy.
Anyone who decides to get help for an addiction does not need someone else to diagnose that issue. They may need someone to raise concern about it or help a disordered individual become aware of their problem, but only the person with the addiction can claim the role of an addict.
It is rather imperative that this next part be understood -
1) You are the only person who gets to decide if you are an addict. No one else, even scholars, family members, or doctors, can decide that for you.
2) Realizing that you have an addiction is the beginning, not the end.
3) Not all disordered eaters are addicts.
With the above information being taken into account, I believe I am an addict, and I did not need anyone else to diagnose that for me. The rest of this post goes into why I believe my compulsive eating is an addiction, but don’t take this post as me saying you are an addict, too. As I mentioned in my Welcome post, I only write about my experience, so please take what you need and leave the rest.
My Food History
I have always had trouble controlling myself around food, as well as people, places, and things. Fundamentally, I have an addictive and chaotic personality - when I started drinking, I couldn’t stop at 2 or 3; I would always get drunk. When I started a diet, I would spend thousands of dollars on the products, and it became my life. When I started smoking pot, I ended up owing dealers money. When I started dating, the rest of my life “disappeared”, and I became obsessed with the relationship. When I picked up a new hobby, I would go at it for hours and lose track of time, often resulting in neglecting my basic needs.
Above all else, food was my #1.
By the time I was 8 years old, I had become hyperaware of how much space I took up in a room. I became conscious of where the air touched every inch of my skin and the amount of room I required in every setting.
I also became very emotionally attached to food. It was as if my mission every single day was to eat. I woke up with food on my mind, spent entire days thinking about food (even while eating), and wouldn’t go to sleep unless I had some ice cream, a sweet treat, or a full-on binge.
This was due to several things:
One being that my family always openly addressed concerns about my weight/eating habits, and not in a very gentle or loving manner.
Another is that I have always had a racing mind that thrives on obsessions and making a big deal out of small things. Food, dieting, drinking, smoking, looking pretty, getting attention, sex, hobbies, etc., were all obsessions.
Lastly, I grew up in an addict’s household, and although addiction is not necessarily proven to be genetic, it also isn’t proven not to be.
Addiction is a lot more than not being able to control actions around a certain “thing.” It’s a disease of the mind, body, and spirit, which I believe got passed down to me from my mom and other generational addicts.
It was modeled to me to be self-conscious of my body, but also conscious of the effects of drugs and alcohol. I always knew I did not want to end up like my mom. “I will never touch that stuff.” I used to say. “I don’t want to become an addict.” Ha, jokes on me! Because even though I did not choose drugs or alcohol, I latched onto compulsive eating, without realizing it was even possible to become codependent on food or food behaviors.
Let alone become addicted to it.
My Constant Struggle
Throughout my life, I practiced a lot of different behaviors that, when looking back at them, were clear signs of compulsive eating and trying to fix, manage, and control my addiction.
Below is a timeline of my compulsive eating. The timeline may not be perfectly accurate because I spent most of my life in a state of “food fog” (the equivalent of being drunk or high all the time), so I may have gotten the timing wrong on some of these events. I also spent a lot of time drunk or high as well as food fogged, so everything in these lists are best guess. As you read, focus more on what’s written and if you can relate. Also, this is a long list; I wouldn’t blame you for biting it off into smaller chunks rather than all at once.
Infant to 10 years old –
My first word was “more” as my mom was feeding me baby food.
The only way to get me to stop crying or throwing tantrums was by feeding me sweets like cookies.
My parents always made a big fuss over clearing our plates, and I never had a problem doing so.
I would receive disapproving looks for grabbing seconds at any mealtimes.
I would always grab the sweets in the checkout lane at grocery stores and beg my mom to buy them. (If she didn’t, I would throw a fit, cry, or just steal it).
During trick or treating, I would go through the neighborhood twice, switching out costumes between each round. I was also concerned about not getting enough candy, so I would hide it and never share it.
When my parents were not home, I would dig a spoon into peanut butter, marshmallow fluff, canned frosting, yogurt, and as many scoopable foods as I could before they came home. This action was often done with a lot of urgency, paranoia, and adrenaline. (This behavior started around 7 years old and lasted pretty much until I got into recovery at age 29 in July 2025).
I would sneak past my parents’ bedroom in the middle of the night to go to the kitchen and stuff myself with random foods. The combinations and mixture of flavors I came up with would probably make you puke, lol, and definitely gave me indigestion.
Speaking of sneaking, I would stuff food in my pockets and walk it upstairs to hide it in my room. I would then act like I forgot something and go back to the kitchen to get more, plus whatever I “forgot.”
I would hide wrappers under other pieces of garbage in the kitchen garbage can so that my dad couldn’t see what I was eating. When he caught on to that behavior, I started putting the wrappers in ziplock baggies and throwing them into the trashcan in my bathroom. That way, it was usually hidden between toilet paper, tissues, baby wipes, feminine products, etc., and my dad wouldn’t sift through it. I could also take that bag and walk it directly to the garbage can in the garage.
I would eat dinner at a friend’s house and then go home and lie to my parents about it so I could eat what my mom cooked. I always had a fear of never having enough, being deprived, or not being included. Looking back, that was more of a rationalization to get more food. I was never left out, but I would convince myself I was.
My mom would watch TV in the living room late at night. The living room and kitchen were connected, so I would have to tiptoe very quietly through the kitchen so she couldn’t hear me. Most of the time, she was pretty wasted at that point, so she didn’t notice. My dad was the one who woke up from the sound of a pin dropping. Either way, I had to sneak around a lot.
11 years old to 20 years old –
I started focusing on weight loss and managing my caloric intake around age 12. I also became obsessed with the girls in Seventeen Magazine and on Disney Channel. Specifically, their bodies and their ability to wear such cute clothes.
I openly told other students at lunch that their food had “too many” calories in it. One time, my friend yelled at me, “No one cares about calories,” and “you can’t sit with us anymore! You’re crazy!”
I would try to get to gym class early to change my clothes in one of the stalls, and if I couldn’t, I would be late to class because I had to wait for everyone to leave the locker room.
I would stand in front of the mirror and pinch my fat together, suck my stomach in, flatten my neck, or manipulate my body in various ways to imagine what a “thinner” version of me would look like.
When I went to potlucks, family gatherings, or events with food, I would cruise the tables and mentally plan out what I was going to eat. I was usually the only person who went up to the table more than 4 times. I was hyper-aware and self-conscious that others were noticing my behavior, but the only thing I cared about was the food.
I barely remember what was spoken about at most family gatherings, but I could tell you what food was served.
Several of my family members hid candy or chocolates in their dresser drawers, and when the food in the pantry wasn’t cutting it, I would steal what I wanted from their bedrooms instead. (I did this well into my 20’s, but it started as a teen).
I went to one of my cousins’ houses a lot growing up, but they were less fortunate financially than my family was. Even though my parents would give me money while I stayed with my relatives, the money wouldn’t last due to my overspending on food. I would always get so frustrated when visiting because they didn’t have as much food as I did at home, and I would feel guilty overeating their food because they couldn’t afford it. I would still overeat it anyway.
I chose restaurants based on their food portions, not quality or price. As long as I left feeling overly full, I was happy.
When visiting my cousin, we would go to McDonald’s, and I would order 4 Big Macs and fries and eat all of it while my cousin barely finished her 6-piece chicken nugget meal. She never judged me for my eating behaviors; in fact, she would praise them sometimes. I liked the attention, the approval, and that I was entertaining. The combination of all of that made me feel free enough to eat compulsively.
I would be very possessive over my food and would write my name on takeout containers I stored in the fridge at home or at work. If someone ate my food, I would throw a fit or just cry about it. It literally felt like my cat died.
I remember many times when I would be standing in front of the pantry doors in the middle of a binge, and my dad would come home. I would quietly run into the room next door and wait to hear where he was going, mouth still full of food. I’d either stay hidden in that room or escape to my bedroom. I got caught a few times, but usually I would just walk very quietly up the stairs, make sure I swallowed all the food and wiped off my face, and then walk down the stairs loudly so he would think I came from my bedroom.
I stole food from one of my places of employment and then got fired for the theft. To be exact, I knew I was going to get fired, so I quit before they could fire me. I also blamed my manager and said, “She eats that stuff without paying for it all the time, where do you think I got permission to do so?” If I was going down, she was going down with me. Anything to distract from my addictive food behaviors.
I stole food (and other things) from many different stores. I would steal lip gloss, eyeliner, mascara, and other little makeup items. I would also go through the self-checkout and pretend to pay for my candy or cold drinks.
I had a hard time making friends in junior high, but I remember this girl wanted to try to be my friend. We had a sleepover, and she asked me what I wanted to do. I told her that eating a can of frosting sounded like a good idea. She somehow convinced her dad to buy us cans of frosting. I ate my entire can; she barely made a dent in hers. Years later, we saw each other in high school, and she said, “Remember that sleepover we had, when we ate that frosting? That was so disgusting!” I was mortified because I thought it was euphoric.
21 years old to 29 years old –
When I moved in with roommates, I took up most of the fridge and freezer space. I even bought a massive tub of chocolate ice cream (you know, the big square tub with the handle that people bring to school events) and ate the entire thing on my own.
Speaking of ice cream, I have a lactose sensitivity, but still ate entire pints night after night. I would even buy Halo Top ice cream because the entire pint was lower in calories. It gave me more incentive to eat the whole thing and feel less “guilty” about it. Talk about a food addiction.
Every outing or planned event with friends was centered around food. Any parties I planned were always full of way more food than anyone could eat, but I always felt like it wouldn’t be enough.
I would go to the Dollar Store and buy $30-$50 worth of junk food like Hostess cupcakes, Oreo Cakesters, Zinger’s, 3 Musketeers, etc., and binge on all of it in bed, or eat it throughout the day. I was lucky if the bag lasted me 3-4 days.
My ex and I would go to a candy store in town and buy a bunch of candy and fudge. We would spend a pretty penny, mostly because of me.
I used to smoke a lot of marijuana, and I would drive to multiple drive-thrus to order food, then go sit in a parking lot somewhere to smoke and eat. I would get about $30-$40 worth of food each time. The weed helped me ignore how painfully full I would get.
At one point, I was out of a job and very depressed. Rather than look for a job, I spent several weeks ordering food delivery (mostly from Taco Bell) with whatever money I had reserved, just to sit and eat it for hours in front of the TV.
I would restrict my breakfast, eat a “healthy” lunch of chicken and broccoli, snack between lunch and dinner, eat a massive dinner, and then watch TV for hours while finishing a new pint of ice cream and munching on candy. This was a very constant cycle for me that lasted until I found abstinence.
I spent so much money on food that I couldn’t afford my car payment, and it got repossessed. My dad graciously paid over $1,000 to get it back and told me that was the only time he would “bail me out.” I never got it repossessed again, thank goodness, but that was super eye-opening.
I would weigh and measure my food, but lie about it when I would track it on an app to keep me from seeing how many calories I was truly eating in a day.
When I did honestly track my calories, it was always over 3,000. I would feel so ashamed that I would exercise purge to compensate by doing extremely hard workouts in my basement that caused me a lot of pain.
Honestly, these lists could go on and on. Initially, I spent several hours writing this post, and wrote a lot memories that came to the surface right off the top. Since I started this post, I have continued to add to it, and I am positive that more will be added as my recovery deepens.
While going through this food craziness, I was also trying to fix, manage, and control my weight and my eating. I started dieting at 12 years old and did not stop until a few months before I entered recovery. I just turned 30 in December of 2025, which means I spent over half of my life dieting. That’s MANIA.
When I think back to my dieting history, it was really just a method I used to keep myself from gaining too much weight. If I’m being for real, the dieting probably saved me from becoming well over 400 pounds.
Forcing myself to exercise and be on a diet for months at a time likely kept more weight off than I care to admit. I was in hell while I was on those diets, and I don’t diet anymore (nor do I recommend it), but it probably saved my life sometimes. I always gained the weight back plus some, but I guess that’s better than always just gaining.
On top of the dieting, I was in a perpetual state of being really self-conscious and hating my body. I tried to do a lot of online dating and snap chatting to get attention from people who I did not give a shit about. I used people the way I used food – to feel good.
I am not someone who values hooking up, but I had sex with several strangers just to feel pretty and desirable. I told myself that I was in my “mingling” phase, but sex is an extremely intimate act, and each hook-up was worse than the next. To say that my compulsive eating is unrelated to sex is foolish. If it wasn’t the food I was using to sedate my inner turmoil, it was sex.
Coming full circle now, you can see that I was always out of control. My feelings dictated my actions. My compulsions and my addictions were in the driver’s seat, while I was just a hostage trapped in the trunk.
Until I finally got my shit together, of course.
I am Truly Powerless
By the time I chose recovery, I had reached the end of my rope. I had no more options. No diet, pill, doctor, therapist, injection, surgery, etc., had been able to help me or was going to help me. Nothing I tried was sustainable, and it only led me down a darker and lonelier path.
A few months before recovery, I left a 3-year relationship and moved back home with my family in a small townhome. The adjustment was hard, but I started to see my actions and relationship with food more clearly. I was no longer distracted by a relationship and had nothing but time.
At first, I got involved with Weight Watchers (again), the dating apps, and Snapchat. I started using people, gave them false hope of finding something real, and used them to get a hit of validation. I tried to make friends with girls from friend-making apps, and those went nowhere. I was binging every single night, ordering more food than I could afford, baking almost every day, and was not taking care of myself. I am surprised I managed to keep my good employee status at work during this time. It was probably the only thing I did right.
To make matters worse, I did some insane YouTube workouts I had no business doing. I would work out while I was still on the clock, and would not end my workout until my watch said I burned a minimum of 600 active calories. If you don’t have an Apple Watch, you might not know that the watch tracks total calories and active calories. The active calories are always a lesser number than the total calories, and are much harder to burn.
I had been seeing a therapist for several months at this point and had mentioned the recovery program I had been to when I was 15 and 28. For some reason, that seemed like my only option. I brought it up to her for several weeks before deciding to find a meeting in my area. Once I did, I chewed on that for a couple more months. I did not just pick up and go; I was too prideful.
Then one day, something pushed me to go. My sister came with me, and I am so glad she did because I was in such a state of anxiety and nerves that I wasn’t able to drive the car. I almost threw up on my way there!
If you have read my other posts already, you know where that story leads. The point I am trying to make is that I finally stopped believing that I had power over this illness. I did not know it in those terms at the time, but I stopped believing that I could do this alone.
I hit my rock bottom. I was desperate, had zero hope, and had no faith in myself. I knew that if I did not do something different, I was going to die. Maybe not the next day, but I would have eaten myself into a heart attack or diabetes. Even though I have known my whole life that those would be my likeliest outcomes, I didn’t stop compulsively eating.
Truthfully, I needed to get to the point where I no longer believed in myself, the diets, the people, the prospects, etc. I needed to become so desperate, ashamed, and lost that a recovery meeting was where I needed to end up.
Let’s be honest, no one changes when everything is rainbows and sunshine. True change only happens when we are too uncomfortable to keep living the way we always have.
I had tried to fix, manage, and control myself, my eating, and my body weight for over half of my life and couldn’t succeed. I may have succeeded for a period of time in different eras of life, but it never lasted. Nothing ever fundamentally changed. I always went back to compulsively eating, dieting, and using people, places, and things.
Knowing that I alone cannot succeed despite my best efforts has humbled me enough to recognize that my mind, body, and spirit need correction. A type of correction that does not involve the methods I clung to in the past. Recovery has shown me solutions I could have never come up with on my own because my worldview was so limited to what I knew at the time. Which was delusional insanity!
Take it from someone who has lost so much from compulsive eating and everything that comes with it – if you haven’t been able to fix, manage, or control it over the long term yet, you probably never will. The amazing thing is that there is hope, and people out there (like me) who want to help.
I know I am a compulsive eater, and therefore an addict, through and through. I just needed to hit my head on rock bottom hard enough to believe it.