Eating When the World is on Fire

Because the overwhelm and the grief is real: Ideas for when nothing sounds good, diet culture gets loud, or your body just doesn't have a strong opinion.

On Monday, I put out an episode that centered around the new dietary guidelines. The keto-carnivore-biohacking-gym-bro of it all. But also where it carried through some important guidances that were, for the most part, embedded in MyPlate. (In case you were confused by the messaging of the current administration, MyPlate is what we’ve been using since 2011—the last time we used a pyramid was before that).

Anna Sweeney, a registered dietitian and all-around fabulous human, joined me to talk about how population-level nutrition advice—particularly the kind steeped in the pseudoscientific “Make America Healthy Again” narrative—lands in real people with real bodies and real lives.

I thought it might be helpful to follow that up with some practical thoughts on eating while the world is on fire. Think: Less philosophical food pontification or evidence-based nutrition rant, more how do we just keep ourselves fed when everything feels out of control, and oh yeah top that off with how everyone is also talking about thinness and “clean” eating all. the. fucking. time.

Shoutout to cereal for always being there for me. Although I’m disappointed that Cinnamon Toast Crunch did not make the cut here. Photo by Franki Chamaki on Unsplash

So, let’s talk about how to do this in practice. Because there are so many moments when eating feels anything but intuitive. It can feel loud. Or confusing, or heavy, or simply inconvenient.

And it’s in moments like those when the question “what should I eat?” lands like a math problem you didn’t study for (and in this analogy, all the text books say different things anyways, so studying just leads you down a diabolical rabbit hole of deprivation). I digress.

My point is that eating is rarely easy in the culture we live in.

You might be feeling overwhelmed with grief and rage reading the news every day. Anxiety and depression may be moving from a background hum to a constant unavoidable pain. Maybe you’ve been sick, injured, dealing with medication changes, or navigating a disrupted routine. Perhaps the years you spent calorie counting are messing with your ability to eat freely. And—very likely if you’ve found your way into this space—you’re working on healing a deeply complicated relationship with food and your body, so hunger cues are not exactly feeling trustworthy.

Whatever it is, know this: all of that lands in our nervous system and affects how we feel about food, about eating, and about ourselves as people who eat. And yeah, that’s hard.

The thing is, even when hunger isn’t obvious—when it’s faint or tangled or absent altogether—your body is still doing the relentless, invisible work of keeping you alive. Your heart still beats. Your brain still burns through glucose. Your cells are still dividing, repairing, and adapting.

Biologically speaking, appetite and energy needs are not the same thing.

Stress hormones like cortisol can blunt hunger signals, even as metabolic demand stays the same or increases. Illness or mental health changes can suppress appetite while simultaneously raising energy needs for healing. And maybe you’ve learned this through your own lived experience, but recovery from restriction (whether it was Paleo, macro counting, an eating disorder, or some other “lifestyle change” that involved micromanaging food) often comes with a lag—for a while, your body needs food before hunger reliably shows up again.

When appetite goes offline, nourishment still matters. You still deserve to eat. You still need to eat. And that may mean gently leading the way when your body can’t communicate with you.

I’ve been living through some medication changes, a stomach that turns over every time I read about a new horror in this country, a body that gets confused by sensory overload. It’s hard. And if you’re in a similar place—nauseous, overwhelmed, annoyed by food—I see you. Truly. Plus, I happen to be someone who loves to eat and has a strong drive to eat, so feeling “meh” about food at times is quite the loss of joy.

Healing from an eating disorder, and the very deep work that went into that, has resulted in me having an unshakeable resistance to not eating. I just won’t even entertain the idea, because I know how important it is, regardless of my emotional or physical desire for food. (I mean, obviously there would be the very extreme exceptions to this with a certain type of stomach flu, but barring that…)

So, back to the logistics of all of this.

When nothing sounds good, we have to try shifting the goal.

Instead of asking: “What do I feel like eating?”
We can start asking: “What might feel tolerable, familiar, or gently supportive right now?”

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Here are a few practical places to begin when appetite is low or decision fatigue is high:

Childhood favorites.

The foods that fed you before food came with rules. Cereal. Pop-Tarts. Mac and cheese. Toaster waffles. Chicken nuggets. Frozen french fries. Nachos. Nostalgia offers safety, and safety can open the door to nourishment.

Sippable meals.

Sometimes chewing is the barrier, or digestive issues make things complicated. This is when smoothies or soups with substance—carbs, fats, protein—can be a life-saver. But please, not just a blender full of frozen virtue, or a bowl of pureed veggies. Try for something hearty, satisfying, and with staying power. Drinking and slurping up calories still counts. Your body does not grade you.

Frozen chicken nuggets are a staple in our house. They rarely let me down! And are very good with some boxed mac and cheese, added to a bagged salad mix, served with frozen waffles, or made into a make-shift fried chicken sandwich. I could go on.

Familiar combinations.

PB&J sandwich. Toast with butter. Yogurt and granola. Bagel with cream cheese. Cereal and milk. Crackers and cheese. Eggs and toast. Soup and bread. Quesadilla and salsa. Apple slices and peanut butter. Grilled cheese and tomato soup. The classics exist for a reason. Predictability lowers the cognitive load, which matters more than we give it credit for.

Prepared meals, quick snacks, packaged foods.

Frozen dinners. Store-bought heat-and-eat meals. Boxed mac and cheese. Crackers, granola bars, canned soups, instant oatmeal. Takeout you didn’t have to think about. I do a lot of prepared meals (yes, processed foods for the win). I’ve been ordering some from Hungryroot lately (Indian meals, pastas, chicken fajita bowls…), and they kindly gave me a 40% discount code (or just use ABBIE40 at checkout) to share in case you’re interested. Disclaimer: I don’t make money from that link, they will just know I sent you!

Trader Joe’s is also a reliable source for prepared meals, and I’ve been picking up a few things at Costco lately as well. An important thing to keep in mind when it comes to premade meals is that the “serving size” often misses the mark. I always add something—such as tortilla chips and extra rice for a burrito bowl.

Remember: Convenience is not a failure—it’s a strategy and it’s self-compassion. Reducing steps makes nourishment more accessible, and accessible food gets eaten.

Comfort foods.

Whatever brings the warm, fuzzy, I can exhale now feeling. Comfort isn’t “indulgent”—it’s regulating. For me, that looks like pizza, grilled cheese, ramen, fried rice, chicken and rice soup, anything that involves potatoes…and if accessible, every single pasta dish my grandma used to make. A fun fact: pleasurable foods can reduce stress hormones and improve overall intake when appetite is low. This is a good thing, a life-giving thing. Not some defect we need to power through with “willpower” and cottage cheese.

Plain and simple foods.

Ahhh, carbs, here to keep us going in the toughest of times. And in the not-so-tough times, because carbs are the nutrient we need most. White rice with butter. Mashed potatoes. Plain pasta with butter. Toast with butter. Oatmeal. “Boring” food is often the most reliable bridge back to eating. Survival food is still food.

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I’m confident that your life, your body, and your preferences will mean that you land with slightly different meals and foods than I listed above. But I really hope it provides you with some categories to explore on your own.

One more picture of cereal in case you forgot how good—and how easy—it is. Photo by David Hunter on Unsplash

If eating feels hard right now, you are not broken. You are a human living in a world that feels unbearable lately—bombarded with societal messages that your body needs fixing, or that your food isn’t “clean” enough, all within a culture that praises you for not eating. So no, I don’t think anything is wrong with you if food is difficult—I think you’re responding quite appropriately to all of this.

And yet. Sometimes eating has to be about tending to your body when it can’t advocate for itself. About trusting that nourishment is an act of care, not something you have to earn with hunger. About relentlessly returning to the truth that you are still worthy of being fed, even—and especially—on your hardest days.

Okay, the obvious question for the comments:

— What foods do you rely on when eating feels hard?
— Bonus question: What is your favorite type of cereal?

Before you go! Please don’t forget to hit the like button, share, or restack this. It helps others find anti-diet journalism and support in shame-free eating. It’s the Substack algorithm, not me being annoying. Promise.