The Connection Between Nervous System Dysregulation and Disordered Eating

1 Apr

If you’ve ever thought:

“Why can’t I just eat like a normal person?”
“Why do I keep doing this even when I want to stop?”
“I know what I’m supposed to do—so why can’t I do it?”

Please know this:
You are not broken.
And it’s not your fault.

Most people who struggle with bingeing, restricting, purging, or food anxiety are told to rely on willpower, discipline, or meal plans. You may have tried traditional talking therapy, food tracking apps, or strict routines that looked like the answer—but still left you stuck in the same exhausting cycle of disordered eating behaviours.

What no one told you is that your nervous system plays a central role in how you eat, how you feel in your body, and how safe (or unsafe) nourishment feels.

This isn’t just about food. It’s about survival.

It’s about your body doing exactly what it’s wired to do when it feels overwhelmed, under threat, or disconnected.

In this post, I’ll walk you through how nervous system dysregulation can show up in disordered eating behaviours, why those responses make sense, and how regulation—not more control—is often the missing piece in healing your relationship with food.

What Is Nervous System Dysregulation?

To be in a dysregulated state means you're feeling anything but grounded and connected. Your nervous system is stuck in survival mode—either on high alert, completely shut down, or swinging between the two. In this state, you might feel chaotic, anxious, numb, disconnected from yourself and the world around you, or overwhelmed by emotions and sensations that feel too big to hold.

Disordered eating behaviours often show up as ways to manage that internal chaos—not because you're broken or doing something wrong, but because your body is trying to settle and soothe itself.

For example:

When you're feeling emotionally numb or shut down (a collapsed state), you might binge to feel something—anything. The act of eating becomes a way to jolt your system back online.
When you're overwhelmed by stress, anxiety, or intense emotions (a fight/flight state), bingeing might help you disconnect—to shift your focus away from what feels unsafe or unbearable in the moment.

But it’s not just bingeing.

Restrictive behaviours—like skipping meals, delaying eating, or undernourishing yourself—can also be signs of nervous system dysregulation:

In a shutdown state, you might not feel hungry at all, or eating might feel like too much. It’s not that you don’t need food—it’s that you’ve become disconnected from your needs.
In a hyper-alert state, eating might feel unsafe, overwhelming, or overstimulating—so you avoid it to feel more in control.

These behaviours might look like the problem, but they’re actually your nervous system’s way of trying to regulate itself.

They work in the short term—but in the long run, they keep you stuck in the very cycle of dysregulation you're trying to escape.

That’s why nervous system awareness and regulation are such important parts of recovery—not to replace food work, but to support it.

Because when your body feels safer, everything else gets just a little bit easier.

How Dysregulation Shows Up in Eating Behaviours

When we talk about nervous system states, we’re really talking about how your body responds to perceived safety or threat. These states shape everything—from your emotions and thoughts to how you experience hunger, fullness, and the act of eating itself.

Let’s walk through the main nervous system states and how they might show up in your relationship with food.

Fight or Flight: The Urge to Take Action

Driven by the sympathetic nervous system, this is your body’s mobilisation mode. Adrenaline and cortisol are pumping, preparing you to confront a threat or run from it.

You might feel:

Restless or agitated
Anxious or panicked
Like you have to do something—anything

In this state, you might:

Binge to try and quiet the chaos
Purge or overexercise to regain a sense of control
Feel the urge to “fix” or “undo” whatever you just ate

You may not even realise you’re in survival mode—it can feel like autopilot.

Freeze: Trapped with Nowhere to Go

As Polyvagal expert Deb Dana describes, freeze is a blended state—there’s energy in the system, but you feel immobilised.

Like a deer in headlights.

You might experience:

Mental fog or paralysis
Feeling stuck or unsure what to eat
Overwhelm at the idea of preparing food or making a decision

Collapse: When Everything Shuts Down

This is part of the dorsal vagal branch of the parasympathetic nervous system—your body powers down to conserve energy and cope.

You may feel:

Numb, sluggish, or disconnected
Emotionally flat or deeply exhausted
Like food just isn’t on your radar

You might:

Skip meals without noticing
Delay eating because even making a decision feels like too much
Feel completely disconnected from hunger or fullness cues

Fawn: Prioritising Others Over Yourself

Also linked to the dorsal system, this survival state focuses on people-pleasing and avoiding conflict.

You might:

Eat to make others feel comfortable
Say yes to food when you want to say no (or vice versa)
Lose track of your needs in social settings

This can look like eating past fullness to avoid awkwardness, or not eating so others won’t comment.

Fawning can also look like choosing meals that will appease others rather than what you want—like picking something ‘safe’ on the menu, or not eating at all because no one else in your group is eating.

It can be really hard to access your own needs when you’re in this state.

Eating as Regulation

Sometimes you might crave crunchy or bland foods to soothe sensory overload.
Other times, you may feel paralysed by choice and default to familiar or emotionally comforting foods—not for taste, but for relief.

Across all states, bingeing can be a way to feel something when you’re numb, or to disconnect when you’re feeling too much.

These Are Adaptations, Not Failures

Instead of seeing bingeing, restricting, or emotional eating as failures, you can begin to view them as adaptations—it’s what feels most familiar to you and your nervous system to feel safe.

They’re signals from your body saying: “I’m not okay right now—and I’m doing my best to cope.”

Once you start recognising your patterns, you can begin to meet yourself with curiosity instead of shame—and that shift can change everything.

Why Eating Feels So Hard When You’re Dysregulated

If eating feels harder than it “should”—if you find yourself avoiding meals, staring blankly at food, or overwhelmed by even the idea of deciding what to eat—please know this: there’s a reason.

When your nervous system is dysregulated, your connection to your body’s cues and needs becomes disrupted.

1. You Can’t Feel What You Need

Dysregulation interrupts interoceptive awareness—the sense that helps you feel hunger, fullness, and satisfaction.

Without this, eating becomes confusing.

2. Food Decisions Become Overwhelming

When you're in survival mode, your executive functioning (planning, organising, emotional regulation) becomes impaired. Even small tasks—like picking what to eat or how to prepare it—can feel impossible.

3. Your Digestive System is impacted

Stress impacts digestion. You might feel bloated, tight, nauseous, or like there’s no room for food—even before eating.

4. Food Feels Like Too Much Input

When you're already overwhelmed, food becomes another layer of sensory and emotional intensity.

In these moments, avoiding food can feel safer than processing what it brings up.

5. You Might Fear Losing Control

If you fear that once you start eating, you won’t be able to stop, it can lead to more restriction—fuelling the cycle.

Gentle Reminder

Eating requires more than food—it requires a body that feels safe enough to receive it.
When that safety is missing, nourishment becomes complicated and confusing.

But this isn’t a dead end. It’s a signpost.

Your body is asking for something deeper than discipline.

The Role of Self-Soothing and Regulation in Recovery

If you’ve ever tried to logic your way out of a binge urge or force yourself to stop restricting, you’re not alone.

But logic and willpower alone often keep the cycle going.

Trying to “fix” the behaviour without tending to what’s underneath is like placing a plaster on a deeper wound—it holds, but only for a while.

What actually supports healing is shifting from fixing to soothing.

Why logic doesn’t work when you’re dysregulated

As I mentioned earlier, in survival mode your executive functioning goes offline. That includes planning, emotional regulation, decision-making, and self-reflection.

So even simple thoughts like “What do I need?” or “What should I eat?” feel out of reach.

Not because you're failing, but because you're deep in survival mode.

Soothing the system, not forcing it

Think of your nervous system like a scared cat in a tree.
Yelling or forcing it won’t work—it clings tighter, it might even climb higher into the tree!

But offer warmth, space and safety, and eventually, it climbs down on its own.

Your body works the same way.

You don’t need to push through the urge.
You don’t need to pretend you’re fine.
You need cues of safety.

What does self-soothing look like?

Placing a hand on your forehead, chest or belly
Naming five things you can see around you
Humming softly or exhaling with a sigh
Rocking gently or wrapping yourself in a cosy blanket

These aren't "tricks." They're ways of saying: “Let’s help your body feel a little more supported.”

Healing isn’t a straight line. It’s a relationship.

When we stop trying to control our bodies, healing starts to look…messy. And that’s okay.

I often hear people say, “When I stopped using my behaviours, everything felt out of control.”

And I gently remind them: that chaos you’re feeling? That might actually be the first time you’re not suppressing or shutting down.

It’s unfamiliar, yes. But it’s also a part of you asking to be heard. And that part is worthy of care.

Recovery doesn’t mean being regulated all the time. It doesn’t mean never getting triggered again or always making the “right” choice.

Life will still bring stress, uncertainty, and challenge.

But your response to those things changes.

Regulation is Not about Perfection

What starts to shift is your capacity.

You might still get knocked off balance—but you come back to centre more easily.
You might still have spirals—but they don’t last as long.

You begin to notice:

“I can pause before acting on an urge.”
“I can sit with discomfort and still offer myself care.”
“I can feel safe in my body, even when I don’t feel good.”

This isn’t control. It’s trust.

It’s learning to work with your body, not against it.

To be in conversation with your nervous system, not at war with it.

To offer yourself regulation and co-regulation—through relationships, routines, community, and rest.

Healing is care, not control

Ultimately, nervous system-informed recovery isn’t about reaching some regulated, “healed” state and staying there forever. It’s about building a relationship with your body that is flexible, responsive, and rooted in care.

That means…

Listening instead of silencing
Soothing instead of suppressing
Coming home to yourself—even when it’s uncomfortable

Recovery asks a lot. But it also gives you something back: Your capacity. Your agency. Your sense of connection.

And you are so worthy of that.

You’re Not Broken—You’re in survival mode

If eating has felt confusing, chaotic, or out of your control…
If you’ve blamed yourself for not being “disciplined enough”…
If you’ve wondered why recovery feels so hard, even when you’re doing all the “right” things—Let this be your reminder:

You’re not doing recovery wrong.
You’re not failing.

You’re navigating survival with a nervous system that’s doing its best to protect you. And it probably has been doing so for a very long time.

And the truth is—your eating disorder behaviours probably have helped you survive.

They’ve offered a sense of control, comfort, or escape in moments when nothing else felt safe.

They’ve been your toolbox.

And there’s no shame in that.

In fact, shame is often what ignites the binge–restrict cycle in the first place. And the more we try to suppress or push through that shame, the more likely we are to stay stuck in it.

What helps is not more control—but more care.

So what we’re doing now isn’t just about throwing your old toolbox away—it’s about slowly building familiarity with new tools. Ones that support your body, your emotions, and your nervous system with care.

Tools rooted in compassion, connection, and trust—not punishment or force.

It may feel messy, but it’s part of the process of becoming more resourced.

Kaysha Thomas