Therapy Bits

To be caught in the grip of depression often feels like living beneath a heavy fog – the world around you becomes muted, and even the simplest pleasures lose their vibrancy. One of the most profound and confusing aspects of this experience is the way depression can rob you of your appetite, leaving you adrift in a body that seems to have forgotten its basic needs.

Food, for many, is a source of comfort, connection, and routine. But when depression takes hold, the very thought of eating can become overwhelming or even repellent. Days might pass where nothing seems appealing, or the energy required to prepare a meal is simply out of reach. Meals, once shared or anticipated, become chores or are skipped altogether. There’s a strange detachment that settles in — you recognise you’re hungry, perhaps even feel your stomach twist, but the urge to eat is buried beneath layers of numbness or dread.

This lack of appetite isn’t merely physical. It’s as if your body mirrors your mind’s withdrawal from life’s pleasures. The world tastes bland, textures feel off-putting, and your mouth might even feel too dry or too heavy to chew properly. Sometimes, the act of eating becomes a negotiation with yourself — a small victory if you manage even a few bites.

What makes this especially difficult is the cycle it can create. Without nourishment, your energy dips even further, making it harder to perform daily tasks or engage in activities that might boost your mood. You may feel guilt or frustration for not eating “properly”, compounding the sense of isolation or inadequacy that depression already brings. All the while, those around you may not fully understand the depth of this struggle, offering well-meaning advice or encouragement that feels impossible to act upon.

Ultimately, being depressed and having no appetite is a powerful reminder of how intertwined our mental and physical health truly are. It is an experience that demands patience and self-compassion, even when these feel out of reach. In these moments, small acts of care — a sip of tea, a piece of fruit, a gentle walk — can become profound acts of resistance, quiet gestures that say: I am still here, and I am worthy of nourishment, both in body and spirit.

https://mymindmappings.com/2025/08/17/fowc-with-fandango-appetite/