Food isn’t the answer
(But bloody hell, it tries to be)
You’re at work. It’s been one of those days.
Emails piling up. Conversations laced with fake politeness.
You’re stretched thin and the printer’s out of paper. Again.
So you grab pizza.
Even though you packed a perfectly decent lunch.
With salad. And effort. And a note to yourself that said, “You’re doing great!”
But somewhere between 9:17am and “Kriistiin from accounts”... those plans disappeared.
Later, it’s 3pm. That weird pocket of the day where time slows and your brain turns to soup.
So you reach for chocolate.
Not because you’re hungry. Just… because.
It’s not world peace, but it’s something. A momentary spike in serotonin. A pause in the chaos. A chewy little band-aid.
And then you get home.
Exhausted.
Done.
There’s pasta. Or whatever your personal version of comfort on a plate is.
Not because you planned to “give up.”
But because food is easy. Predictable. It works — kind of.
Until it doesn’t.
Because pasta understands.
It doesn’t judge.
It just is.
But here’s the thing—somewhere between the last mouthful and unbuttoning your jeans on the couch—you remember something.
You want to lose weight.
You’re tired of feeling flabby and uncomfortable in your own skin.
You want more energy. Less mental noise. To wear the damn jeans without negotiating with the zipper.
Here Comes the Cycle
After the food comes the plan.
Right. That’s it.
New start. More control. Less food. More willpower.
You write it down. Maybe colour-code it. Maybe tell someone.
But then… life. Again.
And before you know it, you're eating something that wasn’t “in the plan.”
Not because you’re weak.
Because you're human.
And somewhere deep down, food still feels like the fastest way to feel better.
This Isn’t About Willpower
Let’s pause there. Because this is the bit that matters:
You’re not broken.
You’re not failing.
You’re just trying to meet your needs the only way you’ve been shown.
Food has become your answer to everything:
Stress → snack
Overwhelm → pasta
Loneliness → cake
Celebration → wine
Exhaustion → fridge door, open, hopeful stare
Not because you're out of control.
But because food is so good at stepping in when nothing else is.
The problem? It’s doing a job it was never meant to do.
But here’s the kicker:
If food is the only solution, what happens when you take it away?
You don’t feel powerful.
You feel deprived.
Like someone’s taken away your security blanket and left you standing in a thunderstorm with no shoes and a salad.
You feel like food has control over you.
And worse—you feel out of control around food.
But cravings aren’t random.
They’re messengers.
And if you’re willing to listen?
They’ll tell you everything.
What’s Actually Going On?
Here’s the question to ask, gently:
Why am I eating when I’m not hungry?
It’s usually not a mystery.
You’re tired. Touched-out. Overbooked. Under-rested.
You need a pause, a “no,” a moment of peace.
But food steps in first, because it’s the path of least resistance.
And when eating becomes your go-to emotional regulation tool, you don’t just get stuck — you get really good at staying stuck.
Meal plans won’t fix that.
Discipline won’t either.
But insight? That changes everything.
This Isn’t About Controlling Food
It’s about getting honest about what food’s doing for you right now.
Is it soothing something deeper?
Is it the only break you let yourself have?
Is it how you manage stress, loneliness, restlessness?
If so — okay.
That’s not wrong. It’s just worth noticing.
Because when you see what you’re really trying to fix, you stop blaming food for not solving it.
And Then Something Softens
You stop needing food to be everything.
And when food isn’t carrying the emotional weight of your whole day?
You can:
Eat when you’re hungry
Stop when you’ve had enough
Choose what actually feels good — before and after
You’re not fighting cravings.
You’re just not fuelling them anymore.
And your energy?
It goes back into your life, not your food plan.
Final Thought
This isn’t about “getting control.”
It’s about seeing clearly.
Because when you stop trying to fix life with lasagne and start tending to what’s actually going on…
The eating changes.
Without a war.
Without the shame spiral.
Without the endless Monday restarts.
Just a quiet return to something steadier.
So if you’re ready to stop trying harder and start seeing deeper —
I’m here.
No rules.
No food police.
No shame.
Just the clarity that comes when you stop asking food to do a job it was never designed for.
And the freedom that follows.
(And yes, if you’re actually hungry — eat the lasagne.)