The Committee of Eaters
(Why You’re in the Pantry When You’re Not Even Hungry)
Right, let’s address the kangaroo in the kitchen, shall we?
You’re not hungry.
You know that.
You had lunch. You’re not shaky or lightheaded. Your stomach isn’t rumbling.
And yet… here you are.
In front of the pantry.
Staring into it like it might offer life advice or emotional closure.
But all it offers is peanut butter, a half-eaten block of chocolate and that slightly crumpled snack you’ve been “saving for later” for six weeks.
Why are you here?
Short answer: Your mind brought you.
Longer answer: You’ve got company in there.
Welcome to the Committee
You’re not making these food decisions in silence.
There’s a full-on internal boardroom — loud, opinionated and wildly disorganised — weighing in every time you pass the fridge.
You know the cast:
The Rebel: “You’ve had a day. Eat the biscuit. You’ve earned it.”
The Nutrition Nerd: “This isn’t real hunger. Your ghrelin levels aren’t even elevated.”
Captain Guilt: “Seriously? After everything you promised yourself?”
The Therapist: “It’s not about the biscuit, sweetheart. You’re soothing. Let it be soft.”
The Moderator: “Can we maybe pause and breathe before we raid the baking shelf?”
This isn’t dysfunction.
It’s just your mind trying to help — in the only ways it knows how.
What Happens Next?
Usually, the loudest voice wins.
Often, that’s The Rebel.
They mean well — they’re trying to bring relief.
And food feels like a quick way to get there.
So you eat the biscuit. Or the peanut butter. Or whatever’s within reach.
And the moment you do?
Captain Guilt comes storming in with a monologue about failure, self-sabotage and “you’ll never get this right.”
Cue the internal sigh. The quiet regret. The heavy feeling that this wasn’t really about the food — but now food is involved and you feel worse.
But Here’s the Thing
This doesn’t mean you’re broken.
It means you’re human.
Your mind sees discomfort — stress, boredom, fatigue, loneliness — and offers what’s always worked: something quick, familiar, and comforting.
It’s not about control. It’s about needs.
Unmet ones.
The snack isn’t the issue. It’s the messenger.
So What Helps?
Not another food rule. Not another restriction.
What helps is understanding. Awareness. Space.
1. Pause
Just for a breath.
No resistance. No force. Just:
“Wait — what’s really happening here?”
2. Check in
“Am I physically hungry?”
“Or am I tired? Unsettled? Avoiding something?”
You don’t need to fix the feeling — just name it.
Naming loosens the grip.
3. Surf the urge
Urges rise. Urges fall.
You don’t have to act on them to feel them.
Let the wave pass without chasing it.
(Pro tip: maybe don’t do this in front of the open fridge.)
4. Ditch the guilt, keep the curiosity
Guilt isn’t clarity. It’s noise.
Try this instead:
“Huh. That was interesting. What was I needing right then?”
Meet yourself like you would a friend — not a food cop.
The Goal Isn’t Perfection
You don’t need to silence every voice in the room.
You just need to listen from a steadier place.
Food is allowed to be comfort.
It’s also allowed to be just food.
And when the committee starts shouting — again — you get to step in.
Not to shut them down, but to guide the conversation.
You’re the chair now.
You don’t need to fight The Rebel or shame the Guilt-Maker.
You just get to see what’s happening… and choose from a clearer space.
Final Thought
You’re not failing.
You’re just navigating old wiring with new awareness.
And every time you pause, check in, or meet the moment with compassion instead of control — You rewire something.
You create a new pathway.
You teach your brain there’s another way to feel okay.
Not through force.
Not through food.
Through presence.
And that, quietly, is how it changes.
Now tell me—who’s on your Committee of Eaters?
And more importantly, are they wearing pants?