Hunger

I was standing in the shower when it hit me like a wave:

I’m… hungry.

You might not think that’s such a big deal (everyone gets hungry, right?) but I I honestly can’t tell you the last time I felt physically hungry beyond “oh shoot, I better eat something because I’m feeling weak and shaky.”

For the past few years, I hadn’t been truly hungry.

Not just for food… but for anything really.

Craving, desiring, and feeling alive in my body were mostly absent in my life.

Feeding myself had become a chore. I dreaded meals. The uncomfortable ritual of chewing, swallowing, repeating… just to ensure I was getting enough nutrients to keep going.

And the whole intuitive-eating “just eat when you’re hungry” advice? Well, I did try that… but I would get too shaky and weak and had to force myself to eat something.

It’s strange, because a past version of me (the ballerina/chronically-dieting version) would’ve loved that.

No appetite? No cravings? No hunger?

Amazing.

Back then, that was the dream.

But now, I see it for what it is: a side effect of burnout.

Of being so chronically “conflict active,” so constantly in survival mode, that my body literally shut down the impulse to want.

I had been living under the invisible weight of every should imaginable.

How I should show up. What I should eat. How I should “heal.” What I should post. Who I should be. How I should run my business. What I should enjoy. How I should feel. What I should have as the ideal morning routine.

I wasn’t living - I was performing. Executing a checklist.

Trying to be a “good” version of myself.

And when you’re living like that, desire tends to go offline (at least, that’s what happened to me).

I forgot how to truly crave something.

From a German New Medicine perspective, lack of appetite is a telltale sign of being in a conflict-active state. In nervous system terms, it’s being stuck in “fight or flight.”

And, I knew that. But knowing you’re in that state is very different from knowing how to get out of it.

So instead of searching for the underlying conflict(s), I started working on something else:

Improving the overall experience of what it’s like to be me.

I started saying no to anything that wasn’t a full-body yes.
I deleted Instagram.
I stopped checking my phone so much.
I spent more time writing.
I started playing board games (almost) every night with my husband.
I took more trips to NYC (my happy place - my last post is about this).
I let go of the need to have conversations in order to gain closure.
I let go of the need to be understood or validated by others.
I prioritized joy over shoulds.
I started doing things just for fun.

I asked myself, “what actually lights me up?”

Nothing revolutionary… and I definitely haven’t done all these things perfectly or stuck with them 100%. But these tiny shifts started adding up.

And then came the realization that hit me like a ton of bricks while I was standing in the shower:

I’m hungry.

So, I got dressed and wandered over to this trendy Korean fried chicken place I’d been meaning to try.

There was only one open seat at the bar, so I took it.

I was sandwiched between a guy and a girl - both also dining solo. We didn’t speak. But we all ordered the exact same thing - the fried chicken bucket special.

Our meals came out at the same time. We devoured our feasts in silence. The girl beside me had her Kindle out and read the entire time.

I picked up the first piece of chicken with my hands and bit into it - crispy crunch on the outside, juicy and tender on the inside. I didn’t wait for it to cool down - I was ravenous.

There were fermented veggies. Seaweed salad. A tray of fun dipping sauces I experimented with like a little kid.

I felt alive.

My first time really enjoying food in… years?

And, while my physical hunger faded as I ate my fill, I realized that I was still hungry in so many different ways.

My appetite for life feels like it’s slowly coming back.

And, don’t get me wrong - I still have ups and downs. My appetite will ebb and flow, so it hasn’t just gotten better and stayed better. But, I see the little glimmers. The brief moments where I can feel my hunger and appetite for life slowly coming back.

To someone looking in from the outside, I had everything I “should” need to feel happy.

A loving husband. Two adorable dogs. A business doing work I loved. The flexibility to travel. The freedom I used to dream about.

But inside? I felt hollow.

Like I was living someone else’s life.

Checking boxes. Going through the motions. Floating through a never-ending list of “shoulds.”

Going to bed each night dreading the idea of doing it all again tomorrow.

I wasn’t necessarily depressed, and I wasn’t dealing with some big “trauma.”

But I didn’t feel… lit up. Delighted by life.

Existence felt like a chore instead of a gift.

And no morning routine, meditation, or nervous system hack was fixing it.

I think a lot of us live this way - so used to the numbness that we forget what joy even feels like.

So used to “just okay-ness” that we no longer notice we’ve stopped wanting. Desiring.

But, here’s the thing: I believe that hunger is holy.

It’s not something to be feared, managed, suppressed.

It’s what makes us human.

However, I’ve come to notice that women with appetites aren’t exactly celebrated.

We’re taught to be grateful, not greedy.
To want less, not more.
To be content.
To be seen, but not too much.
To desire success, but not make too much money.
To prioritize pleasure, but not inconvenience anyone in the process.
To put ourselves first… but actually, always put others first. Keep everyone happy.
To be content. To settle. To shrink.

But, I believe that there’s a difference between contentment and resignation.
Between peace and passivity.
Between gratitude and dissatisfaction.

And maybe, maybe we were never meant to live lives that were just… you know, “fine.”

Maybe hunger isn’t a problem to fix.
Maybe it’s an invitation.

I’ve been thinking lately about how much I used to associate wanting with being ungrateful (or dissatisfied… or behind).

Like you can’t desire more and be happy in the present moment.

But, what if that’s backward?

What if the wanting is the fun part?

What if craving more - more joy, more laughter, more creativity, more connection - isn’t a sign that something’s missing… but a sign that you’re coming back to life?

What if desire isn’t the opposite of fulfillment - what if it’s a prerequisite to it?

What if being in a state of wanting is an end in and of itself?

It’s fun to want.
To crave.
To imagine.
To dream.

To feel your aliveness through longing, not just through having.

Desire ≠ dissatisfaction.

And now? I feel ravenous.

For food.
For sunlight.
For frolicking.
For rest.
For depth.
For pleasure.
For truth.
For art.
For adventure.
For peace.
For ridiculous, outrageous fun.

I want to feast on life.
To follow my cravings.
To live for me - not for the expectations of others.

And this is my wish for you, too.

Maybe you’ve also lost your appetite - not just for food, but for pleasure. For joy. For the messy, beautiful, delicious more of life.

Maybe this is your sign to stop numbing and start listening.

To let yourself want again.

To ask yourself: “What am I truly hungry for?”

And to trust that your desire isn’t too big or too selfish or too much.

Perhaps it’s exactly what’s been trying to bring you back to yourself.

Happy unraveling,

Abigail