“Our bodies are our gardens; our wills are our gardeners.”
— William Shakespeare

 
“One should eat to live, not live to eat.”
— Benjamin Franklin

 
“A hungry man can’t see right or wrong. He just sees food.”
— Pearl S. Buck

Oatmeal and Unmet Needs

My surprising insights into nutrition and addiction

I wasn’t expecting to learn anything new about food. I’ve never been drawn to the subject of nutrition—it’s one of those topics my eyes glaze over at. I eat what I eat, try to be reasonable, and mostly want food to be a quiet background element in life. But the other day, I found myself wondering something that actually caught my interest: Does it make any nutritional difference whether I eat steel-cut oats or rolled oats for breakfast?

That single question sent me down a path I didn’t expect.

Apparently, the answer is yes—but not much. They’re nutritionally very similar. The main difference is how fast they digest and how much they spike your blood sugar. This led me to learn a term I’d never heard before: glycemic index (GI). It’s a number that tells you how fast a food raises your blood sugar. Steel-cut oats have a lower GI than rolled oats, meaning they digest more slowly and give you more stable energy.

I started looking up the GI of the foods I eat all the time: roasted peanuts, tortillas, potatoes, cheese, chocolate, donuts, ice cream (ouch!). Turns out, most of the foods I rely on fall somewhere in the low-to-medium range—except for my biggest temptations: the sweets. No surprise there. High GI, high reward, hard to stop once I start.

That’s when things started to connect in a much deeper way for me.

I already knew, at least in theory, that weight loss comes down to calories—if I eat fewer than I burn, I’ll lose weight. That part always made sense, even if I didn’t want to think about it. But what clicked in this process was how calories, carbohydrates, sugar, and glycemic index aren’t just science, dieting, blah, blah, blah—they actually work together in a way that finally made the topic more interesting to me.

Carbs, especially the refined kind, tend to raise blood sugar quickly (high GI), which often leads to a crash and more hunger soon after. Sugar does the same, especially in sweet, processed foods. Those spikes and drops can make it really hard to stay in a calorie deficit—not because I don’t have discipline, but because my body thinks it’s starving again. And when I’m cycling through energy highs and lows, I’m much more vulnerable to cravings and impulsive eating.

That made me realize: understanding how different foods affect how full I feel, how long that fullness lasts, and how stable my energy is can actually help me stay in a calorie deficit more comfortably. I definitely don’t want to become a nutrition expert—but I do want to learn how to eat in a way that keeps me steady and satisfied, not just disciplined and hungry.

And that brought me back to cravings.

I’ve been trying to cut back on how much I eat, especially during the week. I save sweets for the weekend, hoping it’ll help me reduce the gut that’s crept up over the past couple years. But I kept noticing something: when I see chocolate, even when I wasn’t planning to have any, I immediately want it. Not really hunger. Just this pull. And if I ignore it, it can get worse before it fades. What’s up with that?

The answer came in one simple, powerful sentence: Cravings aren’t bad—they’re just signals.

That idea lit up something inside me. Cravings aren’t a moral failure or a sign that I’m weak. They’re not even hunger. They’re only a response—sometimes to seeing or smelling something, sometimes to being bored, lonely, stressed, or even just in need of comfort. And it makes sense that my cravings are aimed at chocolate. Those foods deliver a dopamine reward that my brain remembers. They become easy go-to’s when something inside is unmet.

This idea of “unmet needs” clicked with things I’ve been exploring in my clinical practice, especially addiction and recovery. Cravings in addiction work a lot like cravings in food. They often show up when we’re not getting something else we need emotionally—connection, purpose, relief. The craving doesn’t mean you’re broken; it means your mind is looking for a solution. Maybe not a good one—but an understandable one.

That’s the heart of something I’ve been thinking a lot about: the difference between natural and unnatural uses of basic human functions. Sleeping, eating, sex—these are all very natural. But when they get warped by stress, shame, overuse, or neglect, we start using them in ways they weren’t intended to be used. Not because we’re bad, but because we’re trying to cope. Food isn’t the problem. The way we use it when we’re disconnected from ourselves—that’s the signal worth paying attention to.

So here I am, all because of a bowl of oatmeal, reflecting on how GI, calories, sugar, and carbs all matter—but they matter in context. If I want to lose weight, yes, I need to eat fewer calories. But if I want to stay sane and steady along the way, I also need to understand how food affects my hunger, cravings, and emotions.

And most of all, I need to remember that the goal isn’t to stop craving. The goal is to manage my cravings.