Yesterday, I had a really healthy day with food. I felt proud of myself. Then, later that night, I was in bed eating some fruit when I accidentally knocked my phone onto the floor. I leaned over to grab it, and that’s when I saw them—an opened bag of crackers I had binged on back on Easter. I had completely forgotten about them until that moment.
And just like that, everything shifted.
I got back into bed, but suddenly I felt hungry—almost uncomfortably so. The excuses started rushing in, like a familiar chorus: You already messed up before, just finish the bag. It’s just this once. You’re probably actually hungry. I didn’t fight them for long. I gave in. And afterward, I felt that deep, heavy guilt. I even woke up in the middle of the night, just kicking myself.
But somewhere between shame and exhaustion, I had a realization:
I’ve been doing a good job holding boundaries with others, but I haven’t been holding any with myself.
That moment wasn’t just about crackers—it was about self-trust. It showed me how quickly my brain can fall back into old patterns when I don’t have clear, compassionate boundaries to support me. Not rules. Not restrictions. Just loving guardrails that help me feel safe.
So I’ve decided to start small, with two gentle boundaries that feel right for me right now:
1. No Eating After 8 PM
Evenings are when I tend to feel the most vulnerable. I’m tired, emotionally worn, and more likely to confuse other needs—like comfort, rest, or distraction—for hunger.
My boundary: I stop eating after 8 p.m. If an urge comes up, I check in with myself: What am I really needing right now?
2. Anchor Phrase for Urges
When those sneaky justifications start whispering in my ear, I need a way to interrupt the script.
My boundary: When I feel an urge, I pause and say:
“This isn’t about hunger—it’s about something else. Let me check in.”
These boundaries aren’t meant to trap me—they’re meant to hold me.
If you’re on a healing journey too, maybe ask yourself:
What boundaries am I holding for others that I haven’t yet learned to hold for myself? And what would it look like to offer yourself the same structure and care?
We deserve that kind of self-respect. We really do.
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