The Space Food Used to Fill

A whole new chapter

There is space now to love other things

One of the strangest parts of my GLP-1 journey wasn’t physical at all — it was what happened when the “food noise” disappeared.

I had never really used that phrase until recently, but now I understand it completely. The constant mental hum around what to eat, when to eat, how much, and whether I “should” — gone. I eat when I’m hungry. When I’m not, I don’t. The silence in my head around food is… astonishing.

And here’s the funny part: at first, I didn’t know what to do with all that quiet.

When Food Was Never Just Food

Before this medication, food was never just fuel. It was a companion, a comfort, and a distraction. It filled time and softened edges.

When I was restless, I’d snack. When I was uninspired, I’d cook. When I didn’t quite know what I was avoiding — which was often — I’d find myself puttering around the kitchen or scrolling takeout menus.

I’ve always been capable of great focus once I’m in the zone. I can plow through projects, make plans, and get things done. But getting to that point? That’s where I’d let the noise creep in. Snacking, scrolling, “just checking something,” wandering from task to task. It wasn’t just about food — it was about avoidance.

As my dad always said, “Just get ’er done.” And yet, I could spend half a day getting ready to get ready.

The Quiet After the Noise

When the food noise vanished, it left a strange void. At first, I felt a little lost, like I didn’t know how to occupy myself. I kept wondering, What is this feeling?

Then I realized — this is space.

Space I used to fill with thoughts about food, with worry about my body, with that endless hum of self-monitoring. Now it was just… open.

I’ve since read that many people on GLP-1s experience greater concentration and clarity. Maybe it’s chemical, maybe it’s psychological. But for me, the gap left by the absence of all that noise — food noise, health noise, self-image noise — became an invitation. Suddenly, I had room in my head to think, to create, to act on all the ideas that had been floating around but never found traction.

The world opened up in the quiet.

New Rituals, New Meaning

I started walking every day — not to burn calories, but to be outside and let my thoughts wander. It’s become one of my favorite parts of the day.

Cooking, which used to revolve around comfort, is now about connection. I cook with Mabel, not because we need the meal, but because it’s a shared ritual — time together, laughter, the smell of garlic in the pan.

I’ve been surprised by how much space opened up in my days — and how quickly I started filling it with things that bring me joy.

Work feels sharper and more rewarding. I’m more decisive, more creative, more willing to take on challenges. Maybe that’s what happens when fear of being seen starts to fade — the world feels a little bigger and more possible.

And the best part? I finally have the focus and freedom to pour my energy into the things that light me up — publishing, writing, new design projects, even developing an AI tool for remodeling and creative work. And now, a dream I’ve carried for years is taking shape: I’m building a new Paris travel community, a space for people who love exploring the city through design, stories, and those little details that make travel feel like coming home.

All of it feels connected somehow — creativity, health, curiosity, purpose. The more space I’ve reclaimed from food noise, the more life I seem to be filling it with.

Food as Joy, Not Distraction

I still enjoy food. I love trying new restaurants and tasting a great wine. But it’s different now — it’s about experience, not escape.

I still get cravings sometimes (ice cream still calls my name like an old friend), but the call fades after a few bites. Food is no longer a coping mechanism. It’s nourishment, pleasure, culture, and connection — not a hiding place.

It’s freeing, honestly. I can enjoy a meal without the running commentary in my head. I can eat without explaining, without guilt, without overthinking.

The Bigger Shift

I’ve now lost 55 pounds, and some days I feel like a completely different person — not just physically, but mentally.

There’s a lightness in how I move through my days. Accomplishment feels exciting again. Challenges feel energizing, not overwhelming. The space that food once filled has become room for everything else — ideas, creativity, joy, calm.

Next up? I want to write about what else has started to “fall off” since the weight did — old habits, old relationships, old definitions of success. Because as I’m learning, once you build a life with boundaries and self-worth, it becomes something sacred.

🩺 Concrete Note on the Physical Journey

55 lbs down and feeling strong. I had my doctor check-in this week to talk about heading into maintenance mode — a new journey to navigate, but in all ways, I am the healthiest I’ve been in over 20 years. Other than tapering down my GLP-1, I don’t take any medications anymore. Yay.I’d love to hear how you are navigating maintenance — whether you’re still on GLP-1 medication, tapering off, or finding your footing in a new routine. How has the “food noise” changed for you? What’s been the hardest or most surprising part of this phase?

I’m collecting stories and perspectives (anonymous is absolutely fine) for the sequel to The GLP-1 Revolution, which will explore the psychology of weight loss and maintenance — what happens inside us as much as what happens on the scale.

If you’d like to share, just reply here on Substack or email me directly at info@deliciousperspective.com.