Sometimes, life forces me to confront the things I’d rather avoid. Right now, that thing is food. Food isn’t just sustenance; it’s comfort, distraction, and, at times, a crutch. As I’ve completely let go of weed and alcohol, I’ve noticed myself leaning on food more—and I’m actively trying to untangle the why behind it all.

My relationship with food feels deeply tied to how I see myself. After my surgery, I was so proud of the weight I lost. For the first time in a long time, I felt confident looking in the mirror. I saw a version of myself I hadn’t seen in years, and it gave me hope. But that confidence didn’t last. Grief has been knocking, and old habits are creeping back in. I catch myself turning to food to fill the void left by emotions I’m still learning to carry. I’m seeing the weight return, along with the familiar sting of not liking what I see in the mirror. It feels like I’m slipping further from the person I’ve worked so hard to become.

Becoming completely sober has been one of my biggest victories, but it hasn’t come without challenges. Those substances were my go-to ways of coping, and letting them go has left an emptiness I wasn’t ready to face. Food has stepped in to fill that gap. It’s become my way of numbing the pain, grief, and anxiety that can feel too overwhelming to sit with. I’m realizing, though, that the weight I’m carrying isn’t just physical—it’s emotional. It’s the weight of unresolved grief, unmet expectations, and unspoken self-criticism.

Every bite can feel like a quick fix, a fleeting moment of comfort that’s quickly replaced by guilt. I look at myself in the mirror and feel a mix of disappointment and shame. The version of me I want to see feels so far away, and I’m struggling to believe I’ll ever find her again. But as much as I wrestle with these feelings, I’m learning to confront them rather than run from them.

This isn’t about perfection or getting it all right at once. It’s about peeling back the layers and addressing the real reasons I turn to food when life feels hard. I’m starting to recognize that I use food not just to cope but to avoid—to avoid sitting with emotions that feel too heavy, to avoid the discomfort of truly seeing myself as I am, flaws and all. But avoiding doesn’t make the feelings go away. It just pushes them down until they demand my attention.

As I’m working through this, I’m learning to give myself grace. Grace, for me, means understanding that my body, like my emotions, is fighting to cope with a huge change. These changes come with side effects that aren’t easy to navigate. Grace means recognizing that my body is doing the best it can to support me, even when it doesn’t feel like it. It’s forgiving myself for the ways I’ve coped and allowing room for growth without judgment. Grace reminds me to honor the journey and give myself permission to feel and adjust as I go. It’s the reminder that I don’t have to get everything right to be worthy of the love and care I give to others—and to myself.

Now, I’m focusing on making different choices. I’m practicing pausing before I reach for food and asking myself what I really need in that moment. Is it comfort? Connection? Rest? Sometimes, it’s as simple as taking a deep breath and reminding myself that I am enough, just as I am. Other times, it’s harder, and I still find myself turning to food. But even in those moments, I choose not to beat myself up. Progress, for me, looks like recognizing where I am and committing to one small step forward.

Sweets, I want you to know you’re not alone in this. If you’re struggling with food too, here’s what’s been helping me. Before I grab something to eat, I try to pause and ask myself if I’m really hungry or if something else is going on. Naming the feeling sometimes helps me break the cycle. Writing things down has also been a game changer. When I journal what I’m feeling, it gives me the space to notice patterns and understand my triggers. I also try to plan ahead, keeping snacks nearby that won’t leave me feeling worse later. And when the urge to eat comes up, I remind myself to breathe, call a friend, or even just step outside for some air. None of it’s perfect, but every small choice makes a difference.

The most important thing I’m learning is to be kind to myself. If I slip up, it’s not the end of the world. I remind myself of the progress I’ve made and focus on the next step forward. And when it feels too big to handle alone, I lean on the people I trust to remind me I don’t have to do this by myself.

It’s okay to feel what you’re feeling, Sweets. This isn’t about being perfect or fixing everything at once. It’s about taking small steps and showing up for yourself in ways that matter. Every day is a new chance to start again, and you deserve all the love and grace you give to everyone else. Choosing sobriety has shown me my own strength, and even though it’s hard, I know it’s worth it. That same strength is helping me tackle my relationship with food. Remember, your worth isn’t tied to the weight you carry—physically or emotionally. You’re defined by the strength it takes to face yourself with honesty and compassion. We’re in this together, and I’m rooting for you.

-Tru