Food was never neutral when I was growing up. Long before I could articulate it, it was moralized, controlled, applauded, chastised, and occasionally used as punishment. I was already caught in a restrict-binge cycle by the time I was eight years old. For a long time, my family had warned me against eating anything that might "make me fat." In an act of defiance, I turned to concealing treats and eating in secret. The best secret is Adderall for sale in USA that people see today!

Certain foods made me feel out of control, while others made me entirely disinterested. I followed diets, gained and lost hundreds of pounds, and ultimately ended myself in eating disorder therapy as an adult for binge-eating disorder and atypical anorexia. (Even when I am in a calorie deficit, my huge size prevents me from receiving a traditional diagnosis of anorexia.)

I blamed myself for what I now realize was my nervous system's desperate attempt to control itself since I was convinced I was the issue.

Chasing Dopamine

I had been adding chips to the inside of my sandwich for as long as I could remember, but one day in eating disorder treatment, a therapist observed. "I like my food to crunch," was my straightforward response when she questioned why I did it.

However, I enjoyed more than simply the crunch. I required it. chips. crackers. extra crunchy bacon. anything that is resistant. anything that is noisy. anything that caused a strong sensory impact on my brain.

In actuality, crunchy foods help me stay grounded. In a manner that soft foods could never do, the crunch helps me concentrate and cut through the incessant chatter in my head.

It clicked at that point. I realized for the first time that my eating habits had more to do with hunger and taste. My "out-of-control eating" was partially caused by sensory-seeking behavior, a well-researched characteristic of ADHD, rather than a lack of willpower.

My Eating Disorder Is About More Than Food

Eating disorders, particularly binge eating disorder and anorexia, are far more common in people with ADHD. Dopamine is believed to be involved in that relationship. Dopamine, which is necessary for motivation, pleasure, and concentration, is chronically low in the brains of people with ADHD like myself. As a result, we are predisposed to seek out stimulus. Additionally, food is always available, quick, and lawful.

The sensory-seeking component of my eating habits does not fully account for the symptoms of ADHD. I can forget to eat for long stretches of time while I'm hyperfocused. I am unable to consistently sense hunger or fullness due to poor interoceptive awareness. Food becomes the last thing on my mind when I have emotional dysregulation.

Therefore, it's not that I lack self-control. Dopamine is what I'm after. And I came to the realization that my neurospicy brain and I would have a far more difficult time recovering from disordered eating.

I also discovered during treatment that my eating issue had little to do with food and everything to do with coping. My brain required more assistance than it ever received—control, dopamine, sensory input, grief, trauma.

Conventional advice on eating disorders is predicated on a neurotypical brain: simply plan ahead and eat frequently. Pay attention to your body. However, this suggestion seems unattainable for someone with ADHD. I am aware of this, having spent decades thinking that my body was failing me. When we don't follow through, shame rushes in, which exacerbates the eating disorder.

Recovery That Honors My Brain

For me, strict dietary regimens and intense cravings don't lead to recovery. It results from being aware of my ADHD and using it to my advantage rather than against it. It results from learning that "healthy" does not always equate to little, enabling sensory accommodations without shame, and constructing structures without punishment.

You are not broken if you have ADHD and have trouble eating. You're not frail. You're not recovering incorrectly. In a society that still lacks a complete understanding of how our brains function, you are neurodivergent.

Although realizing the link between eating disorders and ADHD didn't make my history go away, it did provide me with a framework and vocabulary for my body and brain, which at last enabled me to start the healing process.

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