Night-Eating Syndrome
Who is this person who lives in my body? She confuses and scares me sometimes. Here’s why. I’ve got night-eating syndrome, and it baffles me.
The Pattern
I wake up at 6 am most mornings, not hungry. In fact, I’m not ready to eat until late morning. I work at my desk until almost noon, when I concede to my growling stomach and have a light breakfast. Then I go back to work for the afternoon, seldom thinking about food.
At this point, despite my dismal record of weight loss, I tell myself that I’ve got my diet problem under control. I’ll make a nutritious supper after work, clean the kitchen, play games on my iPad and read for a couple of hours, and then sleep soundly through the night.
All goes according to plan until around 9 pm, when the iPad games start to bore me and I find myself hungry despite the hearty dinner I enjoyed a couple of hours earlier. I’m hungry, but my stomach tells me I do not want rabbit food. I want donuts or ice cream. I have completely forgotten any healthy diet plans made twelve hours earlier.
The Cuckoo Clock
At these times, I am reminded of the little figures in old Black Forest cuckoo clocks. Several carved miniature Bavarian figures stand on a disc that rotates with the cycles of the day. Once every twelve hours, a group rotates to the front to the tinkle of music. Twelve hours and one rotation later a new set of figures appears. The two never meet.
The morning figures are bright-eyed and full of good intentions. They have plans for my day and rules to live by. We all agree that night-time bingeing is unhealthy.
When the sun goes down, and my virtuous friends rotate to the back of the clock, they are replaced by a night crew— a group of self-indulgent rascals with entirely different standards of behavior.
The night figures tell me that something sweet and fattening is just what I need for a good night’s sleep. I could make brownies or run out for ice cream. What the heck. What’s one little binge? They whisper, “Don’t go to bed hungry tonight. You’ll never fall asleep. You know what insomnia and hunger do to you. You’ll be in hell all night.”
In the morning—after a bout of guilt and remorse—I’m again under the influence of the daytime figures. They help me rationalize the previous night’s binge. They give me their daily pep talk. We agree that I won’t repeat the mistake.
What’s the Cure?
Here are some ideas that have helped me:
Eat something for breakfast and lunch. Don’t postpone eating with the hope of delaying hunger. Fasting throughout the day sets a physiological cycle in motion that almost always ends with hunger piling up, only to become overwhelming by night. Regularly spaced food intake also keeps blood glucose levels from spiking and dropping, throwing off your metabolism.
Be sure your last meal of the day contains protein and fat. They keep you feeling full and satisfied longer than foods high in carbohydrate.
Get some exercise or participate in an interesting activity in the evening to divert your metabolism and mind away from the digestive process. You’re less likely to be hungry at bedtime and will sleep more soundly.
Before going to bed, prepare a cheese, meat and/or fruit snack in case hunger strikes during the night. With something waiting for you in the kitchen, you won’t be as tempted by sweet, fatty foods that you run across.
Drink plenty of water throughout the day and evening. Often dieters confuse hunger with thirst. Keep a bottle of water at your bedside so that, if you wake up hungry, you can see whether it will do the trick.
Chew some nicotine gum in the evening. It reduces appetite.
Ask your doctor for a sleep aid to get you through the first week or two of reduced food intake. It may help get you accustomed to sleeping without being awakened by food cravings.
My search for a cure hasn’t been entirely successful, but it’s helped. The book “Overcoming Night Eating Syndrome: A Step-by-Step Guide to Breaking the Cycle” by Kelly C. Allison, and co-authors has given me many good tips. Advice from friends and professionals along the way has been useful.
Richard Burton was a famous Hollywood star who was twice married to actress Elizabeth Taylor. One of 13 children, he was born in Wales in 1925. His father was a coal miner and his mother a bartender. He began his career as a Shakespearean actor on the stage in England before becoming a movie celebrity in America. Drinking heavily from the time he was a young man, Burton never accepted help for his drinking problem. At one point, he drank three bottles of vodka daily. He suffered many health consequences, including cirrhosis of the liver. He died in 1984 at age 58.
Billie Holiday, famous black singer and songwriter, was born Eleanora Fagan in 1915 in Harlem. After a troubled childhood, she began performing in nightclubs as a teenager. In her 30-year entertainment career, she influenced jazz musicians and singers throughout the world with her passion and style. She even gave a sold-out performance at Carnegie Hall. Frank Sinatra called her his greatest influence. Beset by severe drug and alcohol problems, she died in 1955 at age 44.
Hank Williams, country and western singer and songwriter, was born in Alabama in 1923. From birth, he suffered from spina bifida, a painful condition that later led to drug abuse and alcoholism. As a child, he learned guitar from a black street performer. His career peaked in the 1950s at the time he toured the U.S. with Bob Hope. When he was a star, the Grand Ole Opry fired him for habitual drunkenness. Hank Williams died of heart failure in 1953, months before his 30th birthday.
Whitney Houston, one of the top-selling entertainers of all time, was born in 1963 to a middle class family in New Jersey. She began by performing as a gospel soloist in churches but soon started touring nightclubs singing popular songs. After a 3-year courtship, she married the performer Bobby Brown, who introduced her to cocaine and other drugs. As her addiction worsened, she failed to show up for many concerts or appeared onstage confused and intoxicated. She was found dead in a hotel bathroom in 2012, drowned in bathwater as the result of a cocaine overdose at age 44.
In 1958, Michael Jackson was born in Gary, Indiana. He began his musical career when he was 8 years old, singing with his brothers in the Jackson Five. In a few years, he became a solo performer, travelling on world tours. Not only were his songs immensely popular, but he introduced new dance moves to his fans—such as the Moon Walk. The “King of Pop” was accused of child molestation in his later years, and he died just before a comeback tour in 2009. His death was due to an overdose of drugs administered by his physician. He was 50 years old.
Born in Tupelo, Mississippi, in 1935, Elvis Presley was an American rock star—considered a major culture icon of the 20th century. Raised by loving, working-class parents, Presley’s family had little money and moved often. When they lived in Memphis, Elvis made his first recording at the age of 13. Not long after, he rose to fame. John Lennon once observed, “Before Elvis, there was nothing.” Presley suffered from drug addiction during most of his adult life and died at age 42 of heart failure, a complication of drug use.
Born in Seattle in 1942, Jimi Hendrix was a musician, singer and songwriter who entertained audiences in the 1960s with his phenomenal guitar-playing skills. Videos of his memorable performances at Woodstock in 1969 are now collectors’ items. Hendrix was described by the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame as “the greatest instrumentalist in the history of rock music.” Like many musicians of his era, he frequently used drugs. He died at age 27 from complications of barbiturate use.
Born as Norma Jean Mortenson in 1926, Marilyn Monroe was raised in Los Angeles, where she spent most of her childhood in foster homes and an orphanage. She married for the first time at age 16. Playing dumb blonde characters in 1950s Hollywood films, she became a popular sex symbol. Her movie career was briefly troubled when the media discovered she’d posed for nude photos before becoming a star, but criticism soon passed. She was married to the baseball icon Joe DiMaggio for a short time and then to the playwright Arthur Miller. By the 1960s, her health was failing, partly due to drug addiction. She died of a barbiturate overdose at age 36.
At an upscale restaurant with two women friends the other night, I watched one play with her android nonstop during dinner. She showed us over 100 photos taken with several cameras on the device. She pulled up Google Earth and other apps and played with them. The conversation was never allowed to stray far from her ‘droid.
