Why I Feed People to Heal My Past

 Growing up, I didn’t realize how hungry I was not for food, but for affection, attention, and a sense of being wanted. There was always food on the table, but it never came with warmth. Dinner was served, but no one asked about my day. My stomach was full, but my heart was empty. Now, as an adult, I feed people not just with recipes, but with love, care, and something deeper: a hunger to give what I never received.

This realization didn’t come all at once. For years, I thought I simply loved cooking. I enjoyed setting up gatherings, preparing home cooked meals, baking for birthdays, and bringing lunch for coworkers. I prided myself on remembering dietary preferences and going out of my way to make everyone feel welcome. It felt good. But over time, I began to ask myself why does it matter so much to me that everyone eats, that everyone feels cared for at my table?

The answer was waiting quietly in my childhood.

The Starved Heart of a Child

As a child, I was emotionally neglected. My parents weren’t cruel , they provided the essentials but they were emotionally distant. There were no bedtime stories, no encouraging words, no soft shoulders to cry on. If I was scared, I was told to “toughen up.” If I was proud of something, the excitement was often ignored. Over time, I learned to bury my feelings and stop asking for more.

This kind of emotional starvation doesn’t show up like hunger does. There’s no rumbling stomach or physical sign. Instead, it manifests as a quiet ache, a deep need to be seen, to be heard, to be loved. And when those needs aren’t met in childhood, we often grow up looking for ways to meet them ourselves often unconsciously.

Feeding as a Form of Healing

It wasn’t until I started reading about emotional trauma and childhood neglect that I connected the dots. Feeding others became my way of creating the emotional warmth I never had. Every plate I serve carries more than calories—it carries care. It’s my way of saying, “You matter. You’re not alone. You are loved.”

When I cook for others, I pour into them what was once missing in me. The attention to detail, the extra touches, the effort to make someone’s favorite dish it’s all a form of emotional expression I never learned to voice as a child. In feeding people, I’m nurturing both them and myself.

This isn’t just about food. It’s about emotional nourishment. When someone smiles after the first bite, or when they feel comfortable enough to take seconds, I feel a small part of myself being healed. It’s a quiet, tender victory. A moment that whispers: “You’re doing what no one did for you.”

The Double-Edged Fork

But this pattern isn’t always healthy. Sometimes, we give so much to others that we forget ourselves. There were times I exhausted myself planning meals for people who barely said thank you. I’ve felt deeply hurt when others didn’t show the same care I showed them. That’s when I had to ask: am I feeding others because I love them, or because I need their love back?

It’s hard to admit, but sometimes I hoped my care would earn me a place in their hearts. That if I made them feel full, they might fill the emotional void in me. But relying on others to fill that space only deepens the wound when they can’t or won’t.

Finding Balance: Giving Without Losing Yourself

The lesson I have learned and am still learning—is to give without losing myself. Feeding people is beautiful, but it shouldn’t come at the cost of my own emotional well-being. I had to start feeding myself emotionally too. That meant therapy, journaling, setting boundaries, and learning to accept love in quieter ways.

Now, I still cook. I still invite people over. But I do it from a place of wholeness, not need. I no longer overextend just to feel valued. Instead, I remind myself that my worth isn’t tied to how much I do for others it’s in who I am, whether or not there’s a hot meal on the table.

Final Thoughts

Many of us carry childhood wounds that shape how we love, how we give, and how we try to feel whole. For me, food became my language of love because I didn’t know any other way to speak it. It became the bridge between my starved past and my healing present.

So if you’re someone who gives too much whether it’s food, time, energy, or care pause and ask yourself: where does this come from? Are you feeding others to fill your own emptiness? And if so, can you begin to feed yourself too?

Because healing doesn’t always start with therapy or big breakthroughs. Sometimes, it starts in the kitchen with a spoonful of soup, a warm plate, and the decision to give yourself the care you so freely give others.

June 02, 2025 Tags : poverty

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