Finding Peace in Comfort Food for Sensory Overload

How Sensory Overload Guides Me to the Kitchen

Sensory overload can become very intense.  When I experience this, it feels like my brain is set to the highest frequency.  The bright lights, the noise, and the rapid movement all around me, makes it hard to deal with. It’s a daunting feeling, and you can feel lost.  Like you have no direction to go in order to find a peaceful place to decompress. 

On those particular days, where my mind won’t quiet, my body feels frayed, and I’m stuck in an emotional hole, I retreat to the kitchen. There, I find refuge in a bowl of something soft, warm, and familiar. Something soothing to replenish my internal angst. 

For me, it’s buttered white rice with salt and a dash of garlic powder. It’s not fancy. It’s simple. No complications. Just something filling and comforting for the moments I feel out of sync.

It’s not about nutrition facts. It’s about soothing the overstimulated parts of myself—a way to ground my nervous system, bite by bite. This bowl of rice has become a quiet ritual. An edible exhale.

Neurodivergence and the Need for Softness

As a neurodivergent woman, I’ve learned that comfort food is more than just a craving—it’s often a coping mechanism. The world isn’t designed for sensitive systems. I’ve spent most of my life masking, pushing through, pretending I was okay.

But my kitchen doesn’t ask me to perform. It invites me to slow down. To stir. To smell. To listen to the gentle bubbling of a simmering pot. To create something that holds me when nothing else can.

Food has become a central part of my self-care. Cooking is how I decompress, how I process. When I don’t have the words, I cook. When I feel scatterbrained, I boil water. When I’m overstimulated, I choose soft textures—smooth, creamy, melty. My comfort food knows how to wrap me in a gentle hug.

A Simple Bowl of Peace

I used to feel silly admitting that rice with butter could feel like therapy. But I’ve come to realize: our nervous systems don’t respond to logic. They respond to safety. And this bowl brings me back to center every single time.

It reminds me of childhood.  When I was sick and had to stay home from school, I would wrap myself in a cozy blanket on the couch and watch some cartoons.  I would have a warm bowl of rice in my hands.  That texture, and the feeling of being nourished—it’s irreplaceable. 

It reminds me that I can meet my own needs. That I don’t have to wait for someone else to understand or grant me permission. I can choose softness for myself, even in a world that demands I be hard.

Try This Gentle Comfort Bowl

Simple Buttered Rice (Nicole’s Way):

• 1 cup cooked white rice
• 1 tablespoon salted butter
• A pinch of garlic powder
• Sea salt to taste
• (Optional: shredded cheese, soft-boiled egg, or avocado)

Warm the rice. Stir in the butter until melted. Add garlic powder and salt. Breathe. Eat slowly. Let it hold you.

“Food is symbolic of love when words are inadequate.”

Alan D. Wolfel