Comfort Food Cravings: What They Really Mean to Me

There are certain foods that have always felt like a warm hug to me.

Not in the picture perfect, aesthetic sense. But in terms over over-stimulation, emotional depletion, and hanging on by a thread kind of way. In those moments, when my world feels too heavy, I crave comfort food.  

I would always judge myself for my eating habits.  I wanted to be like a “normal” person and just eat when the time called for it.  But for me, it’s complicated.  I started to understand my neurodivergence and saw my cravings differently.  I didn’t see it as a weakness, but rather a form of communication when words seemed to fail me. 

I think back to moments when I was at my lowest.  When the heavy fog of depression made even making toast feel impossible.  When ADHD had me forgetting meals and then suddenly eating everything in sight. When sensory overwhelm made textures unbearable and I could only eat the same three things on repeat.   

I always had a few go-to meals.  One of them was meatloaf.  I know that meatloaf can sound repulsive to others, but for me it was the ultimate comfort growing up.  My mom would make it often, and I enjoyed the luxury of having her home cooking.  That’s what meatloaf reminds me of.  It’s nothing fancy.  It simple and delicious.  

Being neurodivergent, foods like meatloaf were a safety net.  It was my way of having control when things seemed too much. Even now, when things are better and I feel more grounded, comfort foods still serve as my soul soother. 

Lately, I’ve been reflecting a lot on how we, as neurodivergent people, navigate food.  It’s rarely clear or consistent.  Sometimes, I won’t eat much of anything for days because I’m hyper-focused, lost in one task or several for hours.  I wind up completely unaware of how much time had passed.  Other days, I find myself eating everything in the fridge, not because I’m hungry, but because I’m bored or under-stimulated.  It confuses me.  I swing between extremes.  Either eating too much or too little, and never quite finding that balance.  

There is a lot of shame surrounding food, but I’m learning to let all of that go.  I am making peace with the fact that I sometimes crave soft, cheesy, melty things. They make my nervous system exhale.  That I turn to warm starchy meals when I’m lonely or overstimulated.  

For me, food is a memory.  It’s healing. It’s connection.  It’s love. 

“Sometimes, the food we crave is not just about hunger—it’s about needing to feel held.”

Unknown