Learning to Let Go of Bingeing, Starving, and Self-Punishment
For a long time, food was never just food to me.
It was comfort. Control. Chaos. Shame.
It was how I punished myself, how I numbed, how I coped when my heart was too full of emotions I didn’t have permission to express.
I used to think I had a problem with eating.
That I was weak. That I was broken. That I had no discipline.
But the truth is…
I was just in pain.
And no one ever taught me how to carry that pain safely.
When Food Becomes the Language of Unspoken Hurt
Food may have become a tool to feel in control when everything else felt overwhelming.
- Starvation = control.
- Bingeing = emotional release.
- Purging = self-punishment + desperation for relief.
I learned to starve myself when life felt too big—because controlling what I ate felt like the only thing I could control.
I binged when the silence got too loud, when loneliness wrapped around me like fog.
I purged when the shame became unbearable, as if I could cleanse myself of everything I hated about me.
And for a while, these habits worked.
They gave me something to focus on, something that felt like relief.
But deep down, I wasn’t at war with food.
I was at war with my body—because I thought my body was the problem.
Really, my body was just where the pain lived.
What I Know Now
I don’t need to control my body to feel safe.
I don’t need to punish myself to feel worthy.
I don’t need to ignore my hunger—emotional or physical—to feel lovable.
My bad habits weren’t signs of weakness.
They were signs that something inside me was deeply unheard, deeply unsafe, deeply unloved.
I thought I hated my body,
but I was really just hurting,
and my body carried that pain for me
the only way it knew how.
The New Story I’m Writing
Now, I am learning to eat when I’m hungry and to rest when I’m tired.
To breathe through the hard moments instead of stuffing them down.
To forgive the younger version of me who thought self-destruction was the only way to be seen.
I’m not perfect. I still have urges. I still feel shame sometimes.
But now, I pause and ask:
What do I really need right now?
What am I trying not to feel?
How can I love myself through this instead of abandon myself again?
This is how I heal.
With compassion, not control.
With presence, not punishment.
A Reminder, In Case I Forget:
I am worthy of nourishment.
I do not need to earn rest, or food, or love.
My body is not the enemy—it’s the messenger.
I forgive myself.
I am healing.
