Eating to Fill the Void: When Mental Health Feeds the Mindless Hunger

Lately, I’ve been in a dip.

The kind where brushing your teeth feels like too much. The kind where everything is overstimulating and silent at the same time. The kind where your body’s still moving, but your mind is somewhere under the blankets. Still. Fading. Cold.

And in that stillness — where everything feels too much and also not enough — I’ve found myself eating constantly.

I’m not talking about thoughtful meals or craving something nourishing. I’m talking about wandering into the kitchen over and over again. Eating cereal with no milk. Toast with no toppings. Cookies before I even realize my hand reached into the box.

I’m not hungry. I’m just… hollow.

And food, at least for a few seconds, fills that hollowness with something warm, something soft, something felt. Even if it’s fleeting.

🧠 This Is More Common Than We Talk About

Mental health dips — whether it's depression, bipolar lows, or extreme anxiety — often come with coping behaviors that feel out of control.

For some people, it’s oversleeping.

For others, it’s doomscrolling or binge-watching.

And for many of us — it’s mindless eating.

The act of chewing, the comfort of sugar or salt, the predictable satisfaction of something in your mouth — it becomes a ritual. A small act of control when everything else feels like it’s slipping.

But it doesn’t always feel comforting. Sometimes, it feels like spiraling.

🌀 The Guilt Cycle

When I catch myself eating my way through the fog, my inner critic starts shouting.

“You’re not even hungry. Why can’t you stop?”

“You were doing so well.”

“You’re going to ruin your progress.”

Suddenly, the food doesn’t even matter anymore. I’m just deep in the shame spiral — the cycle of eat → feel bad → try to numb → eat again → repeat.

And here’s the truth I’m trying to hold onto, even if it’s messy:

I am not broken. I am coping.

You are not broken. You are trying to self-soothe.

🌧 Why Our Brains Do This

In mental health dips, our bodies and brains aren’t functioning like they do in neutral or regulated states. When we’re anxious, depleted, or depressed:

Our dopamine is low (eating boosts it — even just a little).

Our nervous system is dysregulated (eating creates a rhythm).

We’re seeking comfort and familiarity, and food is a fast, easy form of that.

So it makes sense. It’s a survival strategy, not a personal failure.

Still, it doesn’t always feel good. Especially when we’re using food to silence the pain rather than truly tending to it.

🌿 What I’m Learning to Do Instead

I’m not trying to stop eating for comfort entirely. That would be unrealistic — and honestly, unfair. But I am trying to check in with myself before and after.

When I catch the pattern, I try to pause. Even for 10 seconds. And ask:

“Am I hungry — or am I anxious?”

“Do I want to eat — or do I need to cry?”

“Can I eat and be present with it, instead of just checking out?”

Sometimes, I still eat.

But sometimes, I journal.

Or breathe.

Or cry.

Or sip tea and hug a pillow instead.

Or just name how I’m feeling: lonely, tired, scared, disconnected.

That little bit of awareness makes a big difference.

🕊 You Are Not Alone in This

If you’ve been eating to fill the void lately — I want you to know I get it. Deeply. There is nothing wrong with you.

You’re not failing.

You’re not weak.

You’re responding to emotional pain the only way you know how right now.

And maybe, just maybe, your body is asking for comfort, connection, or compassion — not just calories.

You deserve love, even in the moments when you're mindlessly chewing your way through the silence. You deserve gentleness, even when your pants fit a little tighter. You deserve care, even when you don't feel in control.

Let’s meet ourselves there — in the mess.

Let’s feed what we’re truly hungry for: safety, softness, peace.

You're still worthy. You're still healing. You’re still here.

And that’s more than enough.

– Briana / Moodnest