What if the ache meant arrival?
on choosing yourself, even if it means a quieter table for a while
hi friend, i’m hungryhelen—
i write about food, feeling, and the spaces in between.
but really, this is a love letter to the overlooked.
to the sous chefs who never made the headline.
to the immigrant aunties with michelin hands and no PR.
to the founders who left tech for flour and fire.
to the ones who burned out, started over, and kept showing up to serve.
your hungry bff is where appetite meets identity.
where second acts and soulful stories take the spotlight.
and the quiet power of building something that lasts.
this isn’t just food writing.
it’s a table for comeback stories.
a spotlight for talent that never fit the mold.
a soft seat for anyone still hungry for more.
and today’s story is personal.
because here’s the truth: i’m guilty of this, too.
The bite
i’ve spent a lot of my life people-pleasing.
saying yes when i meant maybe.
offering seats to people who never thought to save me one.
and for what?
to feel chosen? to feel safe?
to prove i was good enough, useful enough, easy to love?
but here’s the question that cracked it open for me:
when does it stop?
when does the need for external validation finally loosen its grip?
for me, the day i decided it stops…
was the day i felt free.
suddenly, i didn’t have to hesitate.
i didn’t have to double-check if my needs were too much.
i could move forward without asking for permission.
it wasn’t easy. lonely, at first.
but that’s the thing about hunger—
eventually, you learn to feed yourself first.
that’s what this space is about.
what if we unlearned the rules that kept us small?
what if we made space for each other to grow—even when it’s messy?
i see each week as a chance to grow—
and if you’re here, you’re already part the story.
The shift
choosing yourself will always feel a little guilty at first
—especially if you’ve made a life out of being agreeable, helpful, good.
but guilt isn’t proof that you’re doing it wrong.
sometimes it’s just the residue of old programming.
it’s okay to outgrow people.
it’s okay to stop performing loyalty to people who never earned it.
it’s okay to want ease and resonance.
having a high bar doesn’t mean you’re cold.
it means you’ve tasted real connection—and now you know the difference.
but that knowing comes with an ache.
because when you start raising your standards—not out of ego,
but because your time, energy, and softness are sacred—
you realize: not everyone gets a seat at your table.
and that hurts.
especially if you’re someone who used to make room for everyone.
The nudge
so if you're in the middle of this shift—where it’s quiet, a little lonely, but also a little more honest—here are three small questions to help you build your guest list again:
1. do they nourish you, or just eat off your plate?
mutual care should be the baseline.
2. do you shrink or expand when they speak?
your light shouldn’t feel like a burden.
3. are they clapping because they care, or because they’re close to the spotlight?
real ones cheer—even when no one’s watching.
The in-between
if the ache is loud right now, don’t rush to fix it.
just sit with it.
don’t let it convince you to lower your bar again.
instead, let it remind you:
you’re in the in-between.
the quiet, wobbly part where the old world is fading,
and the new one hasn’t fully landed yet.
but it will.
and the people who are meant for you?
they’ll reach your bar without you asking.
they’ll bring something, not just take.
they’ll meet you halfway—and they’ll stay.
Until then, stay soft with yourself
be your own soft place to land.
you’re doing the hard thing.
and you’re doing it beautifully.
till the next bite,
hungryhelen
@yourhungrybff