Making Peace with Fullness: A Somatic Approach to Reclaiming Safety in Eating
Fullness isn’t always just a feeling in the stomach.
For many people - especially those who have spent years in cycles of restriction, bingeing, dieting, or trying to control their bodies - fullness can bring on a tidal wave of panic, shame, or the urgent need to undo what’s just been done.
You might feel like you’ve crossed an invisible line. Like something is wrong. Like you need to fix it, make it go away, or find relief - fast.
If this feels familiar, you’re not alone. The fear of fullness is something I see often in this work, and it makes so much sense. Because when your nervous system has learned that feeling full isn’t safe, it will do whatever it can to protect you—even if that protection now feels like punishment.
In this post, we’ll explore why fullness can feel so confronting, and how a gentle, somatic approach can help you begin to make peace with it. Together, we’ll look at how trauma, control, and disconnection shape the way fullness is felt—and how you can start to rebuild trust with your body, one tender moment at a time.
Why Fullness Feels unsafe - The Somatic Roots
If fullness feels overwhelming, confronting, or even unbearable—it makes so much sense.
For many people, the experience of fullness is not just about food. It’s a somatic memory, an echo of earlier experiences where having needs met felt dangerous, or where taking up space came with consequences. In these moments, the body remembers.
From a nervous system perspective, fullness can signal danger rather than satisfaction. Especially if your system has been wired for vigilance, control, or self-protection, the sensation of fullness might trigger a shift into hyperarousal (anxiety, racing thoughts, restlessness) or hypoarousal (numbness, disconnection, shutdown). You might feel suddenly panicked… or like you’ve left your body altogether.
There are so many reasons this might be happening:
Trauma. If your body has stored painful experiences—especially ones involving overwhelm, neglect, or violation—sensations in the belly can feel particularly activating. Fullness may be interpreted as a threat, even if there’s no threat now.
Control. If food has become one of the few areas of life where you feel a sense of control, then fullness can feel like losing your grip. Like the body has “gone too far,” and now something must be corrected.
Shame. Diet culture teaches us that fullness is failure. That to be “disciplined,” “clean,” or “good,” we must always feel light, small, restrained. Fullness disrupts that illusion—and in its place, shame rushes in.
But what if your body’s response isn’t wrong or broken? What if it’s doing exactly what it’s been trained to do: protect you from what once felt too much?
This is where somatic work becomes so powerful—not because it “fixes” you, but because it helps you slowly reconnect with your body’s cues in a way that feels safer, softer, and more choiceful.
The Myth of Fullness as a Problem to Solve
We live in a world that treats fullness like something to avoid, fix, or erase. We're sold the idea that "light" is better, that stopping before we're full is virtuous, and that satisfaction should always come in small, perfectly measured amounts.
But this narrative is not neutral—it’s rooted in diet culture, fatphobia, and systems of control that teach us our needs are too much. That we are too much.
And so, when you feel full, the mind might leap in to problem-solve:
What did I do wrong? How can I undo this? How can I make sure it doesn’t happen again?
This response makes so much sense when we consider the messages you may have absorbed—messages that treat fullness as a sign of failure rather than a sign of being fed.
But here’s the truth: fullness is not a mistake.
It’s not the enemy.
It’s not something you have to earn or atone for.
It is a natural, vital part of nourishment. It is a body cue, not a moral judgment.
And just like hunger, fullness can be a guidepost—one that helps you stay in relationship with your body, rather than at war with it.
What if fullness isn’t a problem to solve… but a sensation to get curious about?
What might shift if you allowed fullness to mean less—not a crisis, not a story, not a signal of wrongdoing, but simply… a sensation that comes and goes?
A Somatic Approach to Relearning Fullness
If fullness has felt like something to fear, numb, or fix, know this: you don’t have to rush to feel comfortable with it. You’re allowed to take your time. And your body doesn’t need to be forced—it needs to be invited.
Somatic practices help you build a sense of safety with fullness—not by overriding discomfort, but by gently widening your capacity to stay with it.
Here are a few ways to begin:
Pause and Orient. After a meal, give yourself a moment to simply arrive in the space around you. Notice the room. Let your eyes land on something grounding or beautiful. This helps your nervous system re-anchor in the here and now.
Place a Hand on Your Belly. With gentleness—not to judge or check, but to offer presence. Let your hand say, “You’re allowed to be full. You’re safe. You’re not alone.”
Feel Your Feet. When fullness feels overwhelming, bringing awareness to your feet on the floor can help redirect energy downward, grounding you when your attention wants to escape your body.
Name What’s Here, Without Judgment. Try noticing the sensations of fullness with neutral or descriptive language: “I feel pressure,” “There’s warmth,” “I feel expanded.” Naming can help soften the panic that often fills in the silence.
Breathe Into Choice. Ask yourself gently: “What would support me right now?” This isn’t about perfection. It’s about restoring agency. Maybe it’s lying down. Maybe it’s stepping outside. Maybe it’s placing your hand over your heart and simply breathing.
None of this has to be done all at once. Even one breath, one touch, one moment of noticing is enough. These practices aren’t about “getting it right”—they’re about creating micro-moments of safety. Tiny reminders that your body is not the enemy.
You are allowed to be full.
You are allowed to take up space.
You are allowed to feel.
Fullness as a Threshold: Grief & Growth
Fullness is not just a physical sensation—it can be a threshold.
A moment where old stories stir.
Where your body says, this feels unfamiliar, or this used to be dangerous, or I don’t know how to stay here.
And that moment can be laced with grief.
Grief for the parts of you that learned to fear your own body.
Grief for all the times fullness was followed by punishment, shame, or silence.
Grief for the lost years of trying to disappear, control, or escape what was only ever a natural human need.
But crossing that threshold—even if only for a breath—is also a moment of profound growth.
Each time you stay with fullness, even just a little, you’re sending yourself a new message: I am safe now. I can be here. I can be full and still be okay.
This work isn’t linear. There may be days where fullness still feels unbearable. That doesn’t mean you’re failing—it means you’re human. And that your body, like any wise system, takes time to relearn what safety feels like.
Over time, fullness can shift from something to fear… to something to hold.
A signal that you’ve been fed. That you’ve honoured a need. That you’re choosing to stay in relationship with your body—even when it’s hard.
And maybe, just maybe, fullness can become a soft exhale.
A quiet kind of enoughness.
A remembering that you are allowed to have needs—and to let those needs be met.
A Gentle Close: You Are Not Alone
If fullness feels hard for you, you are not alone.
And you are not broken.
Your body may be carrying old stories, old strategies, old survival patterns. Of course it is. That makes so much sense. Especially if fullness was once followed by judgment, panic, or rupture.
But none of that means you can’t build a new relationship with this sensation—one that is slower, softer, and rooted in safety.
You don’t have to go from fear to peace overnight. You don’t have to force yourself to feel comfortable with fullness. You only have to begin noticing—gently, curiously, without shame—what arises. And to know that there are ways to meet it. That your body can learn something new.
So if you’re here—reading these words, breathing into your belly, maybe feeling the sting of recognition in your chest—I want to say this:
You’re doing something brave.
And you don’t have to do it alone.
Take what resonates. Leave the rest. Come back when you’re ready.
You’re allowed to feel full.
You’re allowed to stay.
Ready to reclaim your fullness & return to safety?
This is exactly the work we do in nutrition therapy: rewiring your nervous system so you can feel safe, empowered, and peaceful around food—rather than overwhelmed, guilty, and anxious.