Why You Eat When You’re Not Hungry | Sixty and Me

The Wake-Up Moment That Made Me Question Everything

I was sitting on the floor in my living room, phone in hand, legs crossed in that way where one foot always falls asleep. It was early. Groggy, with coffee in hand. I hadn’t even stretched or washed my face. Just grabbed my phone and started scrolling.

I had taken a quick photo in the bathroom mirror that morning. Just something I do every once in a while since I stopped weighing myself years ago. I flipped back to one from four months earlier (same spot, same lighting) and the change was clear.

I had gained weight.

And here’s the thing: I wasn’t shocked. Not even a little bit. Because deep down, I already knew.

The tight waistband on my favorite shorts. The way I’d been craving something sweet every night. My new bedtime ritual was yogurt and a few sugar-free chocolates. Then I found cottage cheese ice cream (yes, that’s a real thing!), and it quickly became the one part of the day I really looked forward to.

Technically, it was all “healthy stuff.” But something felt off.

The food wasn’t the problem. It was how I was using it.

I wasn’t physically hungry. I was mentally and emotionally fried.

I didn’t need another diet. I needed a reset. I needed to ask myself the question I want you to consider too:

Why am I turning to food like this lately?

If that question hits a little too close to home, keep reading.

Because what I realized that morning has nothing to do with calories or carbs – and everything to do with how women like us are taught to soothe, cope, and survive.

Here’s the part I’m almost embarrassed to admit – not because it’s shameful, but because I know better.

I’ve been a midlife health coach for almost 20 years. I teach women every day how to listen to their bodies, how to stop using food as the only tool for comfort, and how to eat without guilt or obsession. I’ve done the work myself. For years, I’ve lived in a body I trust. I don’t count calories. I don’t weigh myself. I eat everything – but I don’t eat all of it.

And still.

I found myself falling for what I call the halo effect – the idea that because something is “healthy,” it doesn’t count.

It started with a little yogurt and a few sugar-free chocolates. Then came cottage cheese ice cream, and suddenly, I was making it almost every night. I told myself it was packed with protein, sweetened without sugar, a smart choice.

And maybe it was.

But it was also my only source of relief at the end of the day. A nightly reward. A moment to check out.

I Wasn’t Disconnected

I knew I was eating emotionally. And I don’t think emotional eating is always a problem. Food at celebrations, holidays, birthdays – it’s emotional. That’s not something to eliminate.

What matters is why you’re doing it, and whether you’re paying attention.

And I wasn’t. Not fully.

There was something under the surface I didn’t want to deal with. Something that the cottage cheese ice cream couldn’t fix.

And if you’ve found yourself standing in the kitchen at 9:30 p.m., spoon in hand, looking for comfort in a “healthy” snack… maybe you know exactly what I mean.

Here’s where it got real for me.

Food had become my most consistent form of comfort. Not because I was physically hungry – but because the world felt heavy, and I didn’t know where else to turn.

It was January, and every time I opened Instagram, it felt like doom. The news was loud. Politics were chaotic. People I cared about were hurting. I couldn’t scroll past it. I needed to understand what was happening. So I stayed glued to my screen, trying to make sense of it all.

Meanwhile, I skipped my morning routine. Stopped stretching. Blew off walks that usually helped clear my mind. I started working through lunch, skipping breaks, telling myself I’d rest later.

But later never came. Just that bowl of yogurt or “one little square” of chocolate.

You tell yourself it’s just one treat… until it’s every night.

Emotional eating isn’t always dramatic. Sometimes it’s quiet. Sneaky. Dressed up as self-care.

But when food is the only reliable joy in your day? That’s not self-care – it’s survival.

And that’s when it becomes hard to stop. Because if you take it away, what else is left?

If stress is high and food is your only exhale, no wonder it feels impossible to break the cycle.

This Isn’t a Willpower Problem

If you’ve been beating yourself up – telling yourself you just need more discipline, more willpower, more control – I want you to stop right now.

Because that’s not what this is.

What I was doing wasn’t a failure of self-control. It was a response to unmet needs.

I didn’t need another plan to tighten things up. I needed rest. I needed less noise in my head. I needed time away from my screen. I needed connection, joy, and actual care – not just another protein-rich “treat.”

That’s what most of us miss when we think we need to “get back on track.” We skip right over the part where we figure out why we went off track in the first place.

The biggest shift for me wasn’t in what I ate – it was in how I paid attention.

Instead of going into panic mode or shaming myself back into control, I got curious. I started by asking one simple question:

“What am I actually craving right now?”

Not just “Do I want chocolate?” but “Am I bored? Am I anxious? Do I need a break, or a hug, or to cry, or to shut my laptop and walk outside?”

Sometimes the answer was food. And that was okay. But I made a point to check in before, during, and after. Did it help? Did it feel good? Would I make the same choice again tomorrow?

I also went back to a tool I teach my clients all the time – a quick body scan. I’d sit for a moment, take a breath, and notice what felt tight, tired, heavy. No judgment. Just information.

And I gave myself full permission to eat. That part’s key.

Because the minute something is off-limits, it becomes more tempting. But when you slow down and stay present, emotional eating loses its grip.

That’s how to stop emotional eating: not by fighting it, but by understanding what it’s trying to tell you.

For years, I thought the solution was more discipline. A better routine. A tighter plan.

I became a nutritionist, thinking if I just learned enough, I’d finally stick to the rules and stop eating when I wasn’t hungry.

But the food was never the real problem. It was what I was using food for – comfort, relief, escape, a reward, a pause in a too-full day.

And rules can’t fix that. No checklist ever helped me understand why I was reaching for food in the first place.

What actually helped was noticing the pattern without judgment. Being honest with myself, not harsh.

Asking better questions, like:

• What am I avoiding right now?
• What do I actually need that this snack can’t give me?

That awareness changed everything. Because once you see the pattern clearly, you’re not stuck in it anymore.

You’re not broken. You’re not weak.

You’re just using food to meet a real need – and there’s a better way.

If you’re tired of ending the day in the pantry, if you’re craving relief that lasts longer than a snack, I’ve got something that can help.