Binge Eating, Bed-Rotting, and the Messy Reality of My Unhealthy Diet

The past few weeks have been a blur of half-finished to-do lists, existential dread, and an embarrassing amount of junk food. I wasn’t writing, wasn’t being productive—I was just existing in bed, binge-watching shows I wasn’t even interested in, all while stuffing my face with whatever was within reach. What started as a little treat to comfort myself snowballed into full-blown binge-eating episodes. Before I knew it, I was stuck in an endless cycle: eat, feel guilty, repeat.

I knew it wasn’t just hunger. I was eating to fill an emotional void, to distract myself, to numb whatever was bubbling under the surface. The worst part? After a while, the food didn’t even taste that good. But I kept going, sinking deeper into the guilt, convincing myself that since I had already “ruined” my diet, I might as well keep eating.

I’ve always had a complicated relationship with food. Some weeks I’m all about “clean eating” and balanced meals; other weeks I give up completely, devouring bags of chips in one sitting, eating dessert for breakfast, and washing it all down with a sugary drink. Stress was the trigger this time. Life felt overwhelming, and instead of dealing with it, I turned to food. At first, it was comforting—like a warm hug in the form of fried chicken and cookies—but soon it became mindless. I wasn’t even hungry anymore, just eating like my life depended on it.

The guilt always followed. I’d lie in bed uncomfortably full, disgusted with myself, promising that tomorrow I’d finally get my life together. Then tomorrow would come, and I’d repeat the same cycle. And while people often assume binge eating is just about gaining weight, the truth is the toll goes far deeper. I felt constantly tired, no matter how much I slept. My emotions swung wildly, my anxiety spiked, and my brain felt foggy to the point where even the simplest tasks seemed impossible. Each binge ended with regret, feeding a loop of self-loathing that only pushed me back into it again.

I won’t pretend I’ve fixed it all overnight, but I am trying. I don’t want food to control my emotions or dictate my self-worth. So, I’ve been making small but important changes. I’m learning to listen to my body—to tell the difference between real hunger and stress cravings. I’m breaking away from “all-or-nothing” thinking, reminding myself that one unhealthy meal doesn’t ruin everything. Instead of banning foods, I’ve started swapping them—dark chocolate instead of candy, popcorn instead of greasy chips. Exercise is no longer punishment but something that makes me feel better, whether it’s walking with music or stretching in the morning. I’m drinking more water, cooking meals that actually satisfy me, and most importantly, trying to be kinder to myself.

That last part is the hardest. The shame after binge eating can be deafening, but I remind myself that beating myself up never helped. Progress matters more than perfection. Binge eating, I’ve realized, isn’t really about food—it’s about emotions, habits, and mental health.

I’m still figuring it out, and maybe I will be for a while. But I wanted to share this because it can feel so isolating to be stuck in that cycle. If you’ve been there too, feeling guilty and wondering how to stop, please know you’re not alone.