The Voice That Shows Up at the Table: Eating Disorders, Body Image, and Self-Compassion During the Holidays

The holidays can bring warmth, nostalgia, and connection - and also discomfort, anxiety, and that old, familiar inner voice that tells you to watch what you eat or earn your meals.

If you’ve ever had a complicated relationship with food or your body, this time of year can feel like a minefield. Every gathering seems to center around food. Every conversation feels laced with body talk. And while others might seem carefree, you might notice yourself hyperaware of what’s on your plate… or what’s on everyone else’s.

Step One: Notice What’s Coming Up

Rather than pushing those thoughts or urges away, what would it be like to notice them?

The part of you that worries about food, appearance, or control, I call mine my Eating Disorder/Perfectionist Part, has probably been around for a while. It learned, at some point, that it needed to help you feel safe. It may have tried to protect you from rejection, shame, or chaos by offering a sense of order or comfort through control.

So when that voice pops up during a holiday meal (“You should skip dessert,” “Everyone’s watching you eat,” “You’ll have to work this off later”), pause. Breathe. And see if you can greet it with curiosity instead of criticism.

“Ah, there you are. You’re trying to protect me again.”

That simple noticing, without fusing or fighting, creates space between you and the part. It reminds your nervous system that you are not that voice. You are the one noticing it.

Step Two: Name the Function, Not the Fault

Rather than judging the part, identify what it’s trying to do.
Is it protecting you from judgment? Trying to help you feel in control when life feels unpredictable? Trying to numb feelings of loneliness or overwhelm that surface during family gatherings?

When we understand the function of a part, we can respond to it compassionately instead of reacting to it.
You might even say internally:

“Thank you for trying to keep me safe. I can take it from here.”

A Note From Me

Even as a therapist, I’m not immune to this voice. Around the holidays, I notice my own ED Part showing up, especially when things feel chaotic, overstimulating, or emotionally heavy.

For me, it doesn’t always sound like “don’t eat that” anymore. Sometimes it feels more like an internal tightening, an urge to control something when life feels too big. I notice distress creeping in, wanting to manage, restrict, or plan everything perfectly. I especially notice this part in my body - my muscles tighten, I feel closed off and I can’t breathe into this part.

That’s usually my cue that this part is trying to protect me from something deeper—discomfort, uncertainty, or the vulnerability that comes with being fully present. When I can see it that way, I don’t have to obey it or fight it. I can thank it for trying to help and remind myself that I can stay with what’s happening, even when it feels uncomfortable.

Step Three: Anchor Back to the Present

Once you’ve noticed and named the part, gently bring yourself back to the moment.
What’s happening around you right now? What do you smell, taste, or hear? Is there warmth in your chest from the mulled wine, laughter from the next room, or the scent of something sweet baking?

Coming back to the present reminds the body that this moment is safe—and that the protector part doesn’t have to take over.

Step Four: Choose Response Over Reaction

Responding to your Eating Disorder Part might look like:

• Taking a grounding breath before a meal.

• Leaving the room to get some fresh air if body talk starts.

• Eating what feels satisfying, not what feels “safe.”

• Texting a trusted friend or support if you need to feel seen.

• Saying, “I’m focusing on enjoying the food,” when someone comments on your plate.

The holidays are not a test of willpower or recovery perfection. They’re an opportunity to practice noticing - to observe the parts of you that arise and to remind them (and yourself) that you’re allowed to be here, in your body, in this season, as you are.

A Final Reflection

Sometimes, the most healing thing we can do is simply witness ourselves.
Not fix. Not fight. Just notice.

If the holidays stir up old patterns, remember that awareness itself is progress. Each time you catch that voice and meet it with compassion, you’re teaching your system that safety isn’t found in control; it’s found in connection.

You are not your eating disorder.
You are the one who notices it.

Grief Sucks, It’s Also Incredibly Connecting. I’m Tired.

I’ve heard “grief is love” so many times lately. I get it. I also kind of hate hearing it. It’s one of those phrases that’s both completely true and totally unhelpful when you’re actually in it. It’s comforting in theory… and exhausting in practice.

I’ve heard a lot recently, given the grief I’ve been processing, that grief is love.
I know it’s true.
And I’m tired.

Grief is one of those things that feels impossible to explain until you’re in it. It’s emotional, all the time. It can knock you off your feet on an otherwise normal Tuesday. You might be fine one minute, then see a photo or smell something familiar and suddenly feel like you’ve been hit by a wave. It’s unpredictable, heavy, and relentless.

And yet, it’s also incredibly connecting.

When you’re grieving, you start to realize how many people are quietly carrying their own versions of loss. It shows up in the way people look at you with knowing eyes, or share a story they’ve never told before. There’s something deeply human about grief—it cracks you open in a way that connects you to other people who have loved deeply, too.

But that doesn’t make it easier.
Hearing “grief is love” can feel comforting and annoying at the same time. It’s a beautiful sentiment, but it also doesn’t take away the exhaustion. The duality is real: you can hold gratitude for the love that created the grief and still feel completely wiped out by it.

Grief doesn’t follow a clean arc. It loops, backtracks, fades, and then flares up again. You can have moments of real peace, and then suddenly feel gutted all over. Sometimes it feels like your capacity to feel love and sadness have merged into one endless emotion.

It’s connecting. It’s human. It’s full of love.
And it also just sucks.

That’s the truth I keep landing on. Both are real. Both coexist.
And right now? I’m just tired.

As a therapist, I sit with people in grief often. I’ve said the things about love, loss, and connection, that I now hear echoed back to me. And it’s humbling to feel how true and how hard they both are at once. It’s easy to talk about grief in theory; it’s another thing entirely to live inside it.

So I’m trying to hold space for both.
For the love that still exists.

And for the part of me that’s just… tired.

Eating Disorders, Autism, and the Role of Parts Work (IFS)

Eating disorders often carry layers of shame, self-criticism, and secrecy. For autistic clients, these struggles can be further complicated by sensory sensitivities, routines, and a lifetime of masking. Many people I work with tell me: “It’s not just about food — it’s about control, comfort, and survival.”

When eating disorders and autism intersect, therapy must go beyond symptom management. It needs to create a space that is affirming, trauma-informed, and flexible enough to honor the many “parts” at play.

Why Eating Disorders Show Up Differently in Autism

Research shows that autistic people are at higher risk of developing eating disorders. Some reasons include:

• Sensory experiences: certain textures or tastes may feel intolerable, leading to restrictive eating.

• Rigid routines: food rituals can bring predictability but also become limiting.

• Masking and shame: years of feeling “different” may lead to controlling food as a way to cope.

• Anxiety and overwhelm: food can become either a grounding tool or a source of distress.

These experiences are not signs of weakness. They reflect how autism and eating struggles overlap in complex, deeply human ways.

How Parts Work Can Help

Parts work, at times called Internal Family Systems (IFS-inspired), offers a way of approaching eating disorders with compassion instead of blame. The process sees the mind as made up of many “parts,” each with its own role.

In eating disorder treatment, this might look like:

• Meeting the protective part that uses food rules to create safety.

• Understanding the critical part that demands control or perfection.

• Honoring the exhausted part that feels burned out from constant masking.

• Listening for the authentic part that wants freedom, nourishment, and ease.

By gently exploring these parts, clients begin to see that their eating struggles are not the whole story — they are strategies developed for survival. This shift often reduces shame and opens the door to real healing.

Moving Toward Healing

For autistic clients, eating disorder recovery is not about forcing “normal” eating or erasing parts. It’s about learning to recognize what each part needs, finding new ways to self-soothe, and slowly building trust with the body.

In therapy, we work collaboratively: combining psychodynamic depth, parts work, and evidence-based approaches like EMDR and CBT. My goal is always to create a neurodivergent-affirming space where clients feel seen, safe, and supported.

If you’re living with both autism and an eating disorder, you are not alone. Healing is possible, and every part of you has a role in that process!

nancy@paritywell.com | (845) 445-8016

The Hidden Trauma of Masking Without a Diagnosis

Many neurodivergent people learn to “mask” from an early age. Masking means covering or changing natural behaviors to appear more “typical” (what even is typical?). It can look like forcing eye contact, hiding stimming, over-preparing for social interactions, or pushing through exhaustion to meet expectations.

For some, masking becomes so automatic that they don’t even realize they’re doing it. Without a diagnosis, it can feel like a personal failing instead of what it truly is: a survival strategy.

Why Masking Happens

Masking develops because the world isn’t built to support neurodivergence. Many clients tell me:

• “I felt like something was wrong with me, so I tried harder to fit in.”

• “I learned to stay quiet or agreeable because I didn’t want to stand out.”

• “I pushed through until I burned out.”

Over time, this constant effort to perform takes a toll on both the body and mind.

The Cost of Long-Term Masking

Living without a diagnosis means not having the language or framework to understand why daily life feels so draining. This often leads to:

• Chronic stress and anxiety

• Depression or feelings of failure

• Identity confusion: “Who am I when I’m not performing?”

• Shame about being “different”

• Burnout and physical exhaustion

For many, this is trauma. It is the trauma of being unseen, misunderstood, or forced to abandon one’s authentic self.

Making Space for the Real You

Unmasking in therapy doesn’t mean removing every coping strategy at once. It means slowly creating space to experiment with authenticity in safe places — with a trusted therapist, supportive friends, or even alone.

Therapy can help you:

• Explore the origins of masking

• Understand how it has protected you, and how it may no longer serve you

• Build resilience and self-compassion

• Reconnect with the parts of yourself that were hidden

Moving Toward Healing

If you’ve spent years masking without a diagnosis, the exhaustion and pain you feel are real. Naming this experience as trauma can be the first step toward healing.

As a psychotherapist, I work with neurodivergent clients navigating the impact of masking, trauma, ADHD, autism, OCD, and identity. Together, we explore patterns, use tools like EMDR (adapted) and psychodynamic therapy, and build a path forward that feels sustainable and authentic.

You don’t need to keep performing just to belong. You deserve to be seen.

email: nancy@paritywell.com | (845) 445-8016

Beginning the Conversation: Trauma, Neurodivergence, and Healing

Finding the right therapist can feel overwhelming, especially when you’re navigating trauma, OCD, ADHD, or other challenges that touch every part of life. Many of my clients come to me after years of trying to make sense of their symptoms on their own or through traditional talk therapy. They’re searching for a space that is safe, neurodivergent-affirming, and sees the person sitting across from them.

As a psychotherapist in New York, I focus on helping people work through trauma, obsessive-compulsive symptoms, eating disorders, and the unique ways neurodivergence shape daily life. My approach is grounded in psychodynamic therapy, exploring the deeper patterns that keep us stuck, and integrated with evidence-based methods like EMDR (Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing), ERP for OCD, CBT, DBT, ACT, and parts work.

Why Trauma and Neurodivergence Often Intersect

Trauma isn’t just about “big events.” It can come from years of feeling misunderstood, unsupported, or pressured to hide who you are. For many neurodivergent clients, whether ADHD, autism, or OCD, this kind of chronic invalidation becomes its own trauma. Therapy can create a place to reflect, make sense of those patterns, and begin building something new.

How EMDR Can Help

EMDR is one of the most effective tools I use to treat trauma, anxiety, and OCD-related symptoms. It helps the brain reprocess painful memories so they don’t keep replaying with the same intensity. For neurodivergent clients, EMDR can be adapted to your specific needs: slower pacing, sensory adjustments, and flexibility in structure.

Healing Is Not One-Size-Fits-All

Every client’s path is different. Some need focused work on OCD compulsions, some want to untangle eating disorder thoughts, and others are simply tired of living in constant self-criticism. What matters is creating a therapeutic space that is collaborative, affirming, and safe for all identities.

Moving Forward

If you’re looking for therapy that addresses trauma, neurodivergence, OCD, ADHD, or eating disorders with both depth and practical tools, I’d be glad to talk with you. Healing is possible, and you don’t have to do it alone.

email: nancy@paritywell.com | (845) 445-8016