What Was I Feeding Besides My Hunger? Healing the Emotions We Use Food to Avoid
I recently did a fast because I wanted to experience greater spiritual closeness with God, but what I discovered during that time led me to ask some questions I wasn’t necessarily expecting to confront. I began thinking about how we use different things in our lives to cover, suppress, or temporarily escape our emotions. We might use work to keep ourselves busy, shopping to give ourselves a little excitement, relationships to fill an emotional void, or food to provide comfort when something inside of us doesn’t feel quite right. We don’t always recognize these patterns because they can look like ordinary parts of everyday life. We work, we shop, we eat, we keep moving, and sometimes we never stop long enough to ask ourselves what we are actually trying to satisfy.
When people say, “You eat your emotions,” I used to picture someone who was extremely overweight, someone whose relationship with food had become visibly connected to their emotional struggles. But I began realizing that emotional eating doesn’t have to look a particular way. You don’t have to be obese to use food for emotional comfort. You don’t have to eat an excessive amount of food to have an emotional relationship with it. Sometimes it’s the snack you reach for after a difficult conversation, the sweet treat you need after an exhausting day, the meal you look forward to because nothing else seems enjoyable, or the food you crave when you feel lonely, disappointed, anxious, or overwhelmed. Sometimes it’s not even about being hungry. It’s about wanting to feel something different from what you are currently feeling.
And that made me wonder: What is food comforting me from?
Why is food satisfying? Why does it feel relieving? What is it that I am unsatisfied with? What am I uncomfortable about? What do I need relief from? What is happening inside of me that makes me crave something outside of me to feel better? These were the questions that began coming up when I asked myself why it was so difficult for me to crave what I was actually seeking through my fast: spiritual closeness with God. I had to consider whether I was simply craving food or whether I was also craving the comfort, familiarity, pleasure, distraction, or emotional relief that food had come to represent for me.
I started thinking about how often we reach for something without asking ourselves why we want it in that particular moment. We say we want chocolate, but are we actually craving chocolate, or are we craving a little comfort after a stressful day? We say we want to order food, but are we hungry, exhausted, lonely, bored, or looking for something to look forward to? We say we need a treat because we’ve had a hard day, but what exactly made the day so hard? What happened that we haven’t processed? What emotion are we trying to soothe? And what if the thing we are reaching for is giving us temporary relief without addressing what is causing us to need relief in the first place?
I am not saying that enjoying food is wrong, that every craving is emotional, or that we should feel guilty for finding pleasure in eating. Food is necessary, enjoyable, and deeply connected to culture, family, celebration, and everyday life. There is nothing inherently wrong with enjoying a comforting meal. But I think there is value in examining what happens when food becomes one of our primary ways of coping with emotions we don’t know how to process. Because sometimes we aren’t simply enjoying food. Sometimes we are using it to help us get through something we haven’t learned how to sit with.
And for me, that realization became particularly interesting when I considered what happened during my fast. Once I took food away for that period, some pretty intense emotions began to rise. And it wasn’t simply because I was hungry. I began noticing feelings and thoughts that seemed to reach deeper than the physical desire to eat. There were uncomfortable places inside of me that I suddenly had more space to notice. Things I hadn’t necessarily been thinking about throughout my regular routine. Emotions that seemed to be waiting for an opportunity to come to the surface.
I had to ask myself whether food had become one of the ways I soothed those emotions without actually addressing them. Was I giving myself comfort through eating when what I really needed was to acknowledge that I was hurting? Was I reaching for something satisfying because there were areas of my life where I felt unsatisfied? Was I looking for relief because there were things I hadn’t allowed myself to grieve, forgive, confront, or understand? And if food had become a source of temporary comfort, what would happen if I learned how to care for those emotions in a different way?
What if I wasn’t just craving food? What if I was craving relief from something I hadn’t addressed?
That question made me think about the spiritual side of fasting. In Matthew 17:21, the King James Version includes the words, “Howbeit this kind goeth not out but by prayer and fasting.” The surrounding passage describes Jesus’ disciples struggling to cast out a demon, and Jesus speaks about their faith. This Scripture is often referenced when people discuss prayer and fasting, but I began reflecting on how we sometimes apply the idea of spiritual discipline to the difficult areas of our own lives. What if there are things we keep struggling with because we are trying to manage them only through our usual habits, while neglecting the deeper spiritual and emotional work that needs our attention?
What if there are tough emotions we keep soothing instead of addressing? What if there are areas of unforgiveness we keep covering with distractions? What if there are habits we keep returning to because they provide something we haven’t learned how to receive in a healthier way? What if we keep reaching for temporary relief without asking God to help us understand what is happening underneath the craving?
I began wondering whether food had become something I used to soothe certain emotions rather than work through them. And I want to be careful here, because that doesn’t mean food is bad or that every emotional struggle is a spiritual problem. It means I was becoming curious about my own relationship with food and what it might reveal about the way I respond to discomfort. I wanted to understand whether I was allowing myself to experience my emotions or whether I was quickly reaching for something that made them easier to ignore.
Sometimes we don’t even realize that we are uncomfortable until we stop distracting ourselves. We can be so used to moving from one thing to another that we rarely give ourselves an opportunity to notice what is happening inside. We work through the day, take care of responsibilities, scroll through our phones, shop, eat, watch television, and keep ourselves occupied. Then, when everything becomes quiet, we suddenly notice how we feel. Maybe we feel sad. Maybe we feel angry. Maybe we feel disappointed. Maybe we feel lonely. Maybe we feel afraid. Maybe there is something we have been avoiding because we don’t know what to do with it.
And sometimes the first thing we want to do is make that feeling go away.
But what if the emotion isn’t something we need to immediately escape? What if it is something we need to understand? What if the discomfort is pointing toward an unmet need, an unresolved experience, a boundary we need to establish, a loss we need to grieve, or a belief we need to examine? What if the craving is giving us an opportunity to ask a question we haven’t been asking?
What am I actually hungry for?
Maybe I am hungry for rest because I have been pushing myself too hard. Maybe I am hungry for connection because I feel lonely. Maybe I am hungry for comfort because something hurt me. Maybe I am hungry for reassurance because I am afraid. Maybe I am hungry for joy because my life has become so focused on responsibilities that I have forgotten to make room for things I genuinely enjoy. Maybe I am hungry for peace because there are things I keep trying to control. Maybe I am hungry for God’s presence because I have been trying to satisfy a spiritual need with things that can only provide temporary relief.
And maybe sometimes I am simply hungry for food. That matters too. We don’t have to turn every craving into a deep emotional investigation. The point isn’t to distrust ourselves or become afraid of eating. The point is to become aware enough to recognize when food is serving a physical need and when we might also be asking it to carry an emotional one.
I think this is where the idea of fasting became personal for me. I had gone into the fast seeking spiritual closeness with God, but I began discovering questions about myself that I needed to bring into that relationship. I wasn’t just asking God to help me get through the fast. I was asking Him to help me understand what was happening inside of me. What was I trying to soothe? What was I avoiding? What had I been carrying? What did I need to bring into His presence instead of continuing to cover it up?
The Bible says in Psalm 139:23–24, “Search me, O God, and know my heart: try me, and know my thoughts: And see if there be any wicked way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.” I love this prayer because it invites God into the places we may not fully understand about ourselves. It is a willingness to be examined, not to be shamed. It is an invitation to become aware of what is happening within us and to ask God to lead us toward something healthier, more honest, and more aligned with Him.
Maybe that is part of what I needed during my fast. Not simply to remove something from my routine, but to become more attentive to what was happening within me. To notice the emotions that surfaced. To ask questions instead of immediately reaching for relief. To bring the difficult parts of myself to God rather than assuming I had to figure everything out alone.
Because prayer isn’t just something I want to do when I need an answer. It is also a place where I can be honest about the questions I don’t know how to answer. I can tell God that I am uncomfortable. I can tell Him that I am frustrated. I can tell Him that I am struggling with forgiveness. I can tell Him that I don’t understand why certain feelings keep returning. I can ask Him to help me recognize the difference between what I need, what I want, what I am avoiding, and what I am trying to control.
And I can ask for help without believing that I have to solve everything through fasting.
Fasting can be a meaningful spiritual practice, but it is not a punishment, a substitute for emotional care, or a guarantee that difficult feelings will disappear. If fasting involves food, it also needs to be approached with care. Our bodies need nourishment, and fasting isn’t appropriate for everyone. If someone has a history of disordered eating, certain medical conditions, or other health concerns, it is important to seek qualified guidance before undertaking a food fast. Spiritual closeness with God does not require us to harm ourselves or ignore our body’s needs.
What I am learning is that I can seek God while also learning how to care for myself. I can pray about my emotions and also explore them. I can ask God to help me forgive and also acknowledge that forgiveness may take time. I can ask for peace and also recognize that I may need to establish boundaries, have difficult conversations, seek support, or work through painful experiences. I can practice spiritual discipline without turning it into another way to criticize myself for being human.
And maybe that is the deeper question behind my experience: What if the things I keep reaching for are soothing emotions I haven’t learned how to address?
What if I keep eating because I am overwhelmed and haven’t learned how to rest? What if I keep shopping because I am searching for a feeling of excitement or fulfillment that doesn’t last? What if I keep working because being productive helps me avoid sitting with myself? What if I keep entertaining myself because quiet makes me aware of how lonely I feel? What if I keep trying to force happiness because I haven’t given myself permission to grieve?
These are not questions meant to make us feel guilty. They are questions meant to help us become curious about ourselves. Because the goal isn’t to remove every source of comfort from our lives. The goal is to build a relationship with comfort that doesn’t require us to abandon our emotional needs.
I want to learn how to recognize when I need food and when I need something else. I want to learn how to sit with sadness without immediately trying to erase it. I want to learn how to experience disappointment without needing to distract myself from it. I want to learn how to acknowledge anger without allowing it to consume me. I want to learn how to bring my struggles to God honestly, without pretending that I have already overcome them.
I want to understand what I am feeling, what I need, and what I can do to care for myself in a way that is genuine and sustainable.
And maybe you need to ask yourself those questions too. Not because there is something wrong with you for enjoying food or wanting comfort, but because you deserve to understand yourself beyond the habits you have developed. You deserve to know what is happening underneath the things you repeatedly reach for. You deserve to experience comfort that supports your well-being rather than keeps you disconnected from yourself.
So the next time you find yourself reaching for something to make you feel better, pause if it feels helpful and ask yourself what is happening inside of you. Am I physically hungry? Am I emotionally overwhelmed? Am I looking for comfort, connection, rest, reassurance, or relief? Is there something I need to acknowledge? Is there something I need to bring to God? Is there another way I can care for myself alongside enjoying the food I want?
And perhaps the most important question is this: What am I trying to soothe that I have not yet allowed myself to heal?
I don’t want to spend my life simply finding new ways to cover what hurts. I want to become honest enough to recognize what hurts, compassionate enough to care for it, and willing enough to invite God into the process. I want to experience the comfort of food without expecting it to resolve every uncomfortable emotion. I want to experience the comfort of God’s presence without treating prayer or fasting as a way to force myself into perfection.
Because maybe the thing I need isn’t always another distraction, another purchase, another accomplishment, or another source of temporary relief. Maybe sometimes I need to slow down, listen to myself, seek God, and begin addressing what has been asking for my attention all along.
I don’t just want to satisfy the craving. I want to understand it. I don’t just want temporary relief. I want to learn how to care for what is hurting. And I don’t just want to fast from something. I want to grow closer to the God who can meet me in the places I am finally willing to acknowledge.
“Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you.” — 1 Peter 5:7
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