Last night, I had one of those moments—the kind that used to completely unravel me. I was tired. I’d eaten more than I wanted to that day. My body felt uncomfortable and full of that familiar guilt I know too well. But it wasn’t just about food—I’d been carrying a lot emotionally too. I’d uncovered deep truths about myself, about my past, about patterns I’ve lived in for years. It was heavy.
And in the middle of all that, the thought showed up: fruit snacks.
That quiet, almost automatic whisper—“Just eat them. You already messed up today anyway.”
And for years, I’ve listened to that voice. I’ve turned to food when things felt too big.
Not because I was hungry, but because I didn’t know how else to self-soothe.
Not because I didn’t care, but because it felt like the only comfort I had.
And I hated that. I hated how fast I could go from tired and overwhelmed to numbing myself with sugar. It always felt like a betrayal—to my body, to my goals, to the version of me that I’m trying to become.
The Pattern I’m Breaking
Usually, the story in my head goes something like this:
“You’ve already messed up today.”
“You’re uncomfortable anyway, what’s one more thing?”
“Just eat the fruit snacks. You’ll feel better.”
And maybe I would—for about three minutes.
But then came the spiral: regret, shame, more guilt, more discomfort.
The food was never the problem. It was the way I was using it to disconnect from myself.
What I’m learning is that the urge to eat like that—fast, disconnected, reactive—isn’t about weakness. It’s a trauma response. It’s survival-mode. It’s my body trying to rescue me from emotional overwhelm the only way it knew how.
Last Night Was Different
But something shifted in me last night.
I noticed the thought.
I paused.
I breathed.
And I said, “No. Not this time.”
Not out of punishment. Not out of willpower.
But because I finally felt strong enough to sit in the discomfort. To stay connected to myself instead of abandoning her again.
I reminded myself that I was safe, even in the mess. That I could feel full and emotionally raw and still not need to numb it. I let the craving rise and fall. I told the voice in my head, “I hear you. But I’m choosing me instead.”
And it passed.
It Wasn’t About the Fruit Snacks
It was about the story behind them.
It was about the part of me that always believed comfort only comes in a package.
The part of me that thought I had to numb my feelings to survive.
The part of me that was trained to self-abandon the moment things got hard.
But that part of me isn’t running the show anymore.
Last night wasn’t just about saying no to fruit snacks.
It was about saying yes to me.
To the woman who is learning to stay.
To the woman who no longer needs to prove anything through perfection.
To the woman who can feel big feelings without reaching for something to quiet them.
To the woman who is healing.
And that small win? It was huge.
Because it reminded me that I am not powerless.
I am not broken.
I am not owned by my cravings or my past.
I am learning to love myself not just when I get it all right, but especially when I don’t.
And that, right there, is where real transformation begins.
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