I have been listening to a podcast by a Gestalt therapist, Kevin McCann, on and off for about 9 months. It's called "Developing a personal relationship with food" and can be downloaded from an Irish website called Bodywhys. In it McCann poses a series of questions designed to make us think about how and why we do what we do around food. He mentions, in passing Susie Orbach. Now, I'm familiar with the title of her most well known book, "Fat is a feminist issue." but I would never buy it because, I'm not a "feminist" and it sounded like a text book. So it surprised me that it was in fact an anti-diet book. But I still wasn't going to buy it because, I'm not a "feminist".

I used to call myself an alcoholic. I used to call myself a compulsive overeater. I used to call myself a co-dependent (a phrase McCann referred to as psychobabble which made me question why I was in so many 12 step groups) and then I decided by inner child was the issue and I went into therapy last year. I then I fell off the wagon. Quit the therapy and the 12 step groups. Got back on the wagon and went to a Beyond Chocolate seminar, then followed that up with a More to Life weekend after which I promptly fell off the wagon once more and really ended up with a sore arse. I started seeing a counsellor based at a local community service specialising in helping people with problem drinking. After a few false starts, in April I came to the "stunning" realisation that there is nothing fundamentally wrong with me. I have problems but I'm not a bad person or a wrong person. Suddenly I had found the key to set myself free. Everything had led me to the point where I could think rationally and put down the drink and address my issues around food. So I joined an online diet club.

This action may seem kind of crazy but it helped me create a structure for myself around food and exercise. At the same time I was seeing every fortnight or so, a wonder black African woman counsellor. My mother was African. I felt heard for the first time in my life and the changes were miraculous.

I'm doing ok on the diet. I decide to lift the ban on sugar. No food is bad. I go easy on the exercise. I try to avoid dishing out advice on the community's boards. I accept that I like to weight myself every day initially and then calmly reduce that frequency. I enjoy my life. It's a struggle sometimes, the desire to binge, the obsession, but it is no way as bad as it used to be, but I can't begin to think about eating what I want, when I want. Or to try eating when I'm hungry and to stop when I'm full. It's the ideal but God it feels so alien.

On Sunday, I decide to listen to McCann's podcast again and find out more about Susie Orbach. With the day off yesterday, I travelled to the nearest Waterstone's bookshop that carried a book called "On Eating". It's a tiny thing and I need help from a member of staff to find it, tucked away between the diet books. It's been on the shelf so long, the edges have discoloured. There is a lot of white space on the pages. The text is fairly large in a friendly font. It's easy to skim through, so I decide to buy it.

I read it on the train journey to my hometown. Nearing the station, I realise I'm hungry and decide to use the techniques it describes to figure out what it is that I really want. I want ice-cream. Skinny Cow. No. I want real ice-cream. So I get off the train, and head for an Italian deli. I have two scoops of ice-cream and a cup of coffee. Fantastic. And I'm satisfied. Truly satisfied. And I'm happy.

It's another short train journey to the suburb in which I live. I carry on reading the book, and this time I'm thinking about what I've been really hungry for when I have not been hungry for food. I see a pudgy baby's arm reaching out for a mother that's not there. And I remember all the times she's not been there. I remember many occasions when I've felt rejected and abandoned. And the times when I've not felt good enough to even leave the house or to be seen by people. And I remember those times when I was a very little girl of eating to make myself feel a bit better and get rid of that pain. Of course I cry and feel like crap.

How does this help? I've forgiven my mum for whatever I felt she did wrong. She did her best and it was a tough life for her too. All the women on my mother's side of the family have had very hard lives. To know that I was rejected and abandoned allows me to understand that it was not because I am this evil, rotten person that no one can love and when I do feel that way, it's just my old way of thinking about myself. It isn't true. Now I have a real choice about how I deal with my old feelings. And perhaps now I can deal with them without resorting to food.