Maybe What You Need Isn’t More Advice, But Someone to Listen

In the 1980s, if you wanted to receive advice on how to grow a tomato, you probably had to talk to someone, or go to the library and get out a book on the topic. The time frame between wanting to grow the tomato and getting the information on how to grow said tomato might be a week or so. That’s provided that you knew someone, or the library had the book you wanted in stock, and that there was enough information available on the said topic. You might still feel confused when you read the book; perhaps it wasn’t written well enough, or didn’t have enough diagrams for you to understand. In which case, maybe you’d sign up for a course, or try to find an expert to speak to.

These days, information has never, ever been easier to attain. Especially if you know how to use a phone. With the click of a few buttons, and/or maybe the use of an AI website, you can pretty much guarantee some decent information on any chosen subject, and the option to clarify anything you don’t understand. Information is no longer rare or difficult to access.

Given the abundance of resources, there is a really, really good chance that you already know what the problem is, and you already know what you should (at least in theory) be doing. The issue usually isn’t about information, it’s usually more about the experience of being isolated and frustrated. You might be surrounded by people, but does it feel like you can relax and talk about your struggles without being interrupted, or advised to do things you already know about?

You may know that you’re low, or that you’re stuck in a binge-loop cycle. You may have already read up on it, and have good insight into what needs to be done. But doing anything on your own in life is tough. Accountability and care are the difference between the idea of doing something and the reality of living it. Especially when you hit a dip, or change starts feeling exhausting and painful, and your coping mechanisms seem more attractive than the idea of a different life.

Talking is cathartic and being able to hear your own voice explain the problem can help you solve it. I’ve seen it enough times now to know that it works.  

“Why do I feel guilty after eating?”

In order to answer this question, it can help to slow down and ask: what does guilt actually feel like? What is it?

Guilt is often experienced as a sense as the sinking, anxious feeling that we’ve done something wrong, alongside a sense of not wanting to be found out. At its core, guilt is relational. Historically, when we lived in close-knit communities, being excluded could threaten our survival. So guilt developed as a way of keeping us within the “rules” of the group.

Because of this, guilt tends to show up when we feel we’ve broken some kind of code, whether that’s spoken or unspoken. It can bring up a fear of being judged, criticised, or shamed.

When it comes to food, those “rules” are often learned over time.

You might have grown up being told to finish everything on your plate, to avoid snacks, or that certain foods should only be eaten at certain times. You might have been told that certain bodies were acceptable, and others weren’t. Later on, you might have created your own rules based on how you want your body to look or how you think you should eat, perhaps around calories, portions, or “good” and “bad” foods.

Once a rule exists, breaking it can bring guilt.

That guilt might come with thoughts that sound familiar:
“I’m greedy”
“I have no self-control”
“I can’t stick to anything”

Or it might not come with words at all. Just a tight, and/or heavy, uncomfortable feeling, and a sense, in that moment, that you don’t quite like yourself.

Food guilt is incredibly common because of how normal it is to have rules around food.

Most people have dieted, or been around dieting. Most people have absorbed ideas about what’s “good” or “bad” to eat. Many of us were given messages about food growing up, even if they weren’t meant harmfully.

So it makes sense that guilt can show up here.

But often, it’s not really about the food. We may know that what we’re doing is objectively not wrong, we may still judge ourselves. We can use food, and the control of it, to try and feel better or differently about our lives and selves.

Underneath, food guilt can be connected to much deeper things:

  • a need for control
  • a sense of safety
  • feelings about worth
  • a desire to feel “good enough”

Sometimes, we begin to tie our self-worth to what we do. The idea becomes: if I can get this right, if I can eat perfectly, then maybe my body will change, and I’ll feel okay about myself.

But when that doesn’t happen (which it inevitably won’t, because these rules are often rigid or unrealistic), the feeling doesn’t just disappear. Instead, it can reinforce the belief that we’re failing in some way.

And so the cycle continues.

Your relationship with food can often reflect your relationship with yourself.

It can tell us something about how you see yourself, and what you believe you’re worth.

And that’s why simply trying to “fix” eating behaviours doesn’t always resolve the guilt. Because the feeling often isn’t just about the food: it’s about something deeper that’s asking to be understood.

And this is where counselling can help.

Not by giving you more rules, or telling you what you should be doing with food, but by creating space to understand what’s underneath it all.

If food feels complicated, or if guilt is something you’re carrying often, you don’t have to figure it out on your own.

This is an area I specialise in, and something I care deeply about. I work with people to gently explore their relationship with food, but also who they are beyond it, what matters to them, how they see themselves, and how they might begin to relate to themselves in a different way.

If that resonates, you’re very welcome to get in touch.

Why trying to control your eating might be making things feel worse | A Norwich Counsellor Explains

Why trying to control your eating might be making things feel worse

If control worked, it would have worked by now.

You tell yourself today will be different. You’re going to be “good”. You’ll get your steps in, drink the water, track everything. At first, perhaps you feel steady; Contained, reassured, peaceful, maybe even hopeful.

But by mid-afternoon, something shifts. The cravings come in; persistent, hard to ignore. You have some chocolate.

And almost immediately, something else follows. A wave of guilt. Anxiety. A sense that something has gone wrong. From there, the rules lose their footing. The day takes on a different shape. By evening, you might feel full, uncomfortable, and disconnected from yourself.

And so the cycle continues.
On, off. Trying again. Starting over.

When I sit with clients, I’m often reminded of that game where you guide a metal loop along a wire.
The aim is simple: don’t let it touch the sides.

But the moment it does, you can hear a loud beeping noise. Argh. Back to the beginning.

It’s tense, asks for constant precision, and it’s exhausting to sustain.

So it can be worth asking:

When did this need for control begin?
What was happening at the time?
What does “being in control” actually mean to you?

Because, what if your patterns of eating aren’t failures?

What if something in you is trying to respond: to soothe, to regulate, to manage something that feels difficult to contain? To find joy when life feels heavy? Or grounding when life feels like it’s too exhilarating?

Our relationship with food can tell us a great deal about our relationship with ourselves.

In my experience, our relationship with food is the tip of the ice berg. It’s a symptom, not the problem in and of itself. For example, if you restrict, you might be feeling lost and overwhelmed. Or if you binge, maybe you might need release and more creativity in your life. There might not be a clear answer in this moment, but it can be worth pausing to reflect on what we might be trying to experience outside of a different body type.

When things feel uncertain, or overwhelming, how do we meet ourselves in those moments?

And what might we learn if, instead of tightening control, we became a little more curious about what’s underneath?

Because it may not be about food at all. It may be about how we’re trying to find peace.

Disordered Eating and Attachment: A Relational Perspective

When I think about disordered eating in my work, I often notice an emphasis on eating behaviour as something that needs to be altered and controlled.

Meal plans.
Movement changes.
A focus on doing things “right.”

Alongside this, I often find myself thinking about something else: how someone relates to themselves, to others, and to their emotional world.


Looking beyond food

During my Understanding Your Eating core training with Julia Buckroyd, I was introduced to the idea of understanding eating in relation to attachment.

Since then, I’ve often noticed that when I meet a new client, there can be a certain level of predictability in how early relationships relate to a person’s current relationship with food.

This offers a lens, rather than an explanation.

Attachment Theory explores how our early relationships shape the way we experience:

  • closeness
  • safety
  • emotional need

Over time, we develop patterns, often outside of awareness, around:

  • whether it feels safe to rely on others
  • how we manage distress
  • how we respond to our own needs

These patterns continue into adulthood, shaping how we relate to others and to ourselves.


Attachment patterns (in simple terms)

Broadly speaking, attachment can show up in a few different ways:

Secure
Relationships tend to feel stable and predictable. There is often a sense of self-worth, and an ability to seek support when needed.

Anxious
Relationships can feel uncertain. There may be a fear of abandonment, and a tendency to become highly attuned to others in order to maintain connection.

Avoidant
Relationships may feel overwhelming. There can be a tendency to suppress emotional needs and rely heavily on oneself.

Anxious/Avoidant
A mix of both: seeking closeness, and then pulling away when it begins to feel intense.


Where eating patterns fit

Eating patterns often show up in response to emotional experiences.

Before a binge, restriction, or strong urge around food, many people notice a shift in how they’re feeling.

Food can become a way of:

  • soothing distress
  • creating a sense of control
  • moving attention away from difficult emotions

There is also a biological element, eating and restriction can both influence endorphins, which can temporarily shift how we feel.

Over time, these eating patterns can become familiar ways of responding.


How attachment may shape eating

This is not a set of fixed categories, but a way of noticing patterns:

Secure attachment
Feelings are more tolerable, and support can be sought when needed. Eating tends to feel more intuitive and less emotionally driven.

Anxious attachment

  • heightened emotional intensity
  • sensitivity to relationships
  • difficulty self-soothing

Eating may become a way to regulate distress, particularly when linked to loneliness or relational triggers. Patterns can feel cyclical.

Avoidant attachment

  • emotional suppression
  • discomfort with dependence
  • strong self-reliance

Eating may become more controlled or restrictive, with a sense of distance from hunger cues.

Anxious/Avoidant attachment

  • conflicting needs around closeness
  • emotional overwhelm

Eating patterns may feel more changeable, with cycles of different behaviours and a strong sense of internal tension.


Making sense of it

This way of thinking can help bring understanding to something that often feels confusing.

Many people experience shame in relation to food and their body. When eating patterns are viewed in the context of emotional experience and relationships, they can begin to feel more understandable.

Over time, this can support a shift towards:

  • recognising emotional needs
  • understanding patterns more clearly
  • developing a more compassionate relationship with yourself

A therapeutic perspective

In my work, I don’t focus on identifying a specific attachment style.

Instead, I support people in understanding themselves more deeply, and in coming into a more compassionate relationship with who they are.

Very often, the relationship someone has with food has developed for a reason, and that reason is often survival.

It can be helpful to explore:

  • what you are feeling
  • what you might be needing
  • what the behaviour is doing for you

A final thought

Eating problems are more common than people realise.

They can be understood, and they can change.

With time, it is possible to develop ways of relating to yourself and your needs that feel more steady and supportive.

Disordered Eating and Person-Centred Counselling

My work is primarily focused on disordered eating. In this blog, I offer a short overview of how person-centred counselling can support those experiencing it.

It’s helpful to begin with a shared understanding of what we mean by an eating disorder. The National Health Service defines eating disorders as “a serious, treatable mental health condition characterised by disturbed eating patterns, such as extreme restriction, bingeing, or purging, paired with an obsession with weight, body shape, or food.”

Importantly, the NHS also emphasises that eating disorders are not simply about food. They are ways of coping with distress that can have significant physical, emotional, and social consequences.

In that sense, eating disorders are not really about food. They are about finding a way to manage something that feels overwhelming.

It can be helpful to think of eating, weight, or the body as a kind of scapegoat. If there is something external to focus on, something that feels controllable, it can offer a sense of structure or even relief. If my distress can be explained by my body, then I have something concrete to work on, something I can try to fix.

For example, after a painful breakup, it may feel easier to focus on changing your body than to sit with loss, rejection, or grief. The hope might be: if I change my body, my life will change too. Often, the desire to change our bodies is not really about appearance, and rarely about health. It is more about wanting to feel differently: more in control, more secure, or more acceptable.

Where does person-centred counselling come in?

Person-centred counselling is a way of working that places you at the centre of your own experience.

Rather than focusing on fixing behaviours or giving advice, we work together to understand what sits underneath them. This means creating space to explore your thoughts, feelings, and experiences, particularly those that may sit outside of food.

There is no shortage of advice when it comes to eating disorders. Many people arrive at counselling already carrying a wealth of knowledge about what they “should” be doing. What is often missing is not information, but space; to think, to make sense of what feels overwhelming, and to understand how your relationship with food and body image may be helping you cope.

In a person-centred approach, you are not treated as a problem to be solved, but as a person to be understood. As that understanding develops, your relationship with yourself can begin to shift. From there, change can start to feel possible.

There is much more that can be said on this topic. If you’re struggling with your eating behaviours, you’re welcome to get in touch through my Counselling Directory profile.