Sometimes the problem isn’t on the plate. The problem is in the mind—like a window was left open and it won’t close. Food. The next meal. Will I hold it together? Will I “mess up” again? Does any of this even matter?
Someone can stand in line, talk on the phone, skim something quickly—and all the while feel the same background noise running nonstop. Like a radio that won’t shut off, even when you hit mute. There’s no dramatic thought. No big crisis. That’s exactly what’s exhausting: the steadiness of it. The way it’s there when the day is boring, and when the day is heavy, and even when the evening finally brings quiet.
In recent years, more and more people have started using the phrase food noise to describe that intrusive looping around food. For some, it’s a whisper. For others, it’s a shout. But in both cases, the common thread is the same: it doesn’t feel like a choice. It feels like pressure.
