When Picky Eating Is More Than Picky Eating: Understanding ARFID

Personally, I’ve always considered myself a picky eater. I remember refusing certain foods that found their way onto my plate night after night. Things like broccoli, pork chops, or fatty bacon.

I think when people think about picky eating, they imagine a child who refuses vegetables or only wants chicken nuggets.

For me, I had my safe foods. My comfort foods. Dishes that I knew exactly what to expect from.

I learned early on that I was sensitive to textures, smells, and tastes. But as I’ve grown older, my taste buds have expanded and I’m more open to trying new foods. Even with that, I still go back to the meals that make me feel comforted and safe.

I knew that autistic people can sometimes experience food aversions and sensory differences around eating, but I didn’t know there was a condition called ARFID (Avoidant/Restrictive Food Intake Disorder).

I’ve personally never experienced this condition, but my godson has. And he has taught me that ARFID is so much more than what it sounds like.

I’m still learning about ARFID. I asked his mother, my best friend, the other day what it really looks like for him. She lives in Michigan, so I only get to visit about twice a year, but when I do go out there, I try to stay as long as possible to spend time with them.

I’ve noticed his distaste for most foods. Even ones that most kids love.

He won’t touch anything with cheese (mac and cheese, pizza, grilled cheese)—all out the window. He doesn’t like sandwiches unless they’re peanut butter. His favorite safe comfort food is Chicken McNuggets. He can go to town on those. Also, give him some French fries and he’s a happy camper.

His mom told me that any type of chicken tender she gives him has to be similar in size, shape, texture, and flavor. Jokingly, she told me she gave him those dinosaur nuggets once, and he refused them because they looked different.

One memory that really sticks with me happened when we took a little day trip to Frankenmuth, Michigan. It’s such a cute little German town, and they have the largest Christmas store I’ve ever seen. The best part is that it’s open all year round.

After walking around for a while, the three of us—my godson, my best friend, and I—decided to go out to eat. We went to one of the local eateries, a place known for their fried chicken.

We sat down in a nice booth and ordered our meals. Naturally, my friend ordered chicken tenders for her son.

When the food arrived, he took one bite and spit it out.

It wasn’t what he was used to.

The chicken looked different, tasted different, and had a different texture. He also could’ve been extremely overwhelmed by the restaurant itself. There were different smells, sounds, and a lot happening around him.

So instead of focusing on the fact that he wasn’t eating, I just started playing Hangman with him.

I remember feeling bad that he didn’t eat, but I also understood why.

Before I knew what ARFID was, I probably would’ve assumed he would eventually “grow out of it.” I didn’t understand that eating could genuinely feel overwhelming.

ARFID is an eating disorder where a person eats a very limited range or amount of food. It can be connected to sensory sensitivities, fear of negative consequences like choking, vomiting, or getting sick after eating, or simply having little interest in food.

It isn’t stubbornness. Certain textures, smells, tastes, or even the thought of trying something unfamiliar can cause real distress.

As I’ve learned more about autism and sensory differences, I’ve come to understand how closely food can be tied to feeling safe.

For my godson, having familiar foods is about predictability. It’s knowing what to expect.

And when so much of the world can already feel overwhelming, that predictability matters.

Watching him has changed the way I think about food.

As a kid, I probably would’ve been right there with him. I was drawn to foods that made me feel safe: mashed potatoes, pasta, cheeseburgers. But as an adult, I’ve noticed myself asking, “Why won’t he just try it?”

Now I know the better question is, “What would help him feel safe?”

As he’s getting older, his mom is trying to give him little tastes of something new. Of course, she tells him it’s new because she told me you never want to trick them into eating anything.

Even though he’s more than likely to spit it out, he’s willing to try.

He actually discovered he likes flan. A food I’m not particularly fond of because of its texture, but it made me really happy that he found something new that he enjoys.

I won’t lie, it sometimes breaks my heart to see him eat the same thing every day, always having to be the same brand name. But I understand so much more now, and I’m just happy he has foods that make him feel comfortable.

I’ve learned that you can’t force someone with ARFID to eat something or pressure them into trying new foods. You have to respect their safe foods and celebrate those small steps.

My godson has taught me that food isn’t just about what’s on the plate. Sometimes it’s about comfort. Sometimes it’s about safety. And sometimes it’s about knowing that someone understands you.

I may never fully understand what eating feels like for him, but I can listen, learn, and meet him where he is.

And honestly, if Chicken McNuggets are what make him happy right now, then I hope he enjoys every single one.

Comfort Food Spotlight: Why Safe Foods Matter

Sometimes comfort food isn’t about the fanciest ingredients or the most complicated recipe. Sometimes it’s the food that feels familiar. The meal you know exactly what to expect from. And sometimes, a plate of chicken nuggets can mean a whole lot more than people realize.

What is a food that brings you comfort, not because it’s fancy, but because it feels familiar and safe?

“The most important thing we can give each other is not our opinions or advice, but our understanding.” — Stephen R. Covey

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