Not Just a Picky Eater - Understanding ARFID

11 Aug

What if eating felt like walking into a room filled with flashing lights, overwhelming noise, and unknown dangers? For many neurodivergent adults living with Avoidant/Restrictive Food Intake Disorder (ARFID), that’s exactly what food can feel like, no, it’s not about being fussy or difficult.

ARFID is a serious eating disorder. But unlike anorexia or bulimia, it’s not driven by body image or fear of weight gain. Instead, it can arise from sensory sensitivities, interoceptive confusion (not being able to feel hunger or fullness clearly), trauma, anxiety, or a need for predictability and control in an overwhelming world.

For many clients we work with, eating is not just a physical act, it’s a sensory, emotional, and cognitive challenge. And understanding that is the first step to compassion and change.

What is ARFID?

ARFID (Avoidant/Restrictive Food Intake Disorder) is a recognised diagnosis in the DSM-5. People with ARFID eat a very limited variety or quantity of food, which can lead to:

Nutritional deficiencies
Weight loss (or lack of expected weight gain)
Reliance on supplements
Interference with daily life (e.g. avoiding meals with others)

The key difference? ARFID isn’t about trying to be thin.

How Common Is It?

In Australia, ARFID affects an estimated 1 in 300 people (0.3%) (NEDC, 2024). Rates are higher in neurodivergent populations, with international studies reporting between 12 to 28% of autistic children meet ARFID criteria. Neurodivergent adults frequently experience long-term eating challenges, even without a formal diagnosis.

What Does ARFID Look Like?

For many neurodivergent adults, especially those with autism or ADHD, ARFID may show up as:

Avoidance of foods based on texture, smell, or appearance (e.g. only eating crunchy foods, or rejecting anything that “mixes textures”)
Fear of choking or vomiting after a past experience
Difficulty identifying when hungry or full (a form of interoception difference)
Anxiety or shutdown when faced with food-based social events
Low appetite or skipped meals
Reliance on nutritional supplements or highly processed safe foods

Think of it like trying to eat while blindfolded on a rollercoaster, unpredictable, overwhelming, and exhausting. It’s not a refusal, it’s a normal, and often physical response.

"Why Can’t You Just Eat?"

Let’s flip the question: If your clothes felt like sandpaper, would you be able to wear them calmly? If your house was on fire, would you sit down for dinner?

That’s what eating can feel like when your nervous system interprets food as a threat. Trauma, sensory overload, and anxiety can all switch off appetite signals or create strong avoidance reactions.

ARFID isn’t stubbornness, it’s self-protection. Healing doesn’t come from force; it comes from safety.

**Working With ARFID Not Against It**

We try to take a neurodivergent-affirming, trauma-informed approach. That means:

No shaming. Honouring the sensory preferences as valid.
Collaboration over compliance. You are the expert on your body.
Curiosity over control. Try to explore the patterns of your eating, without judgement.
Practical strategies include things like food mapping, texture substitution and co-regulation.

ARFID recovery isn’t about eating kale, or “normal” foods. It’s about building trust with your body, one bite at a time.

What Helps?

Safe Foods List: Identify your individual version of go-to foods that feel manageable and build from there. On stressful days this list will be shorter, on calm days it will be longer.
Food Chaining: Gradually introduce similar textures, colours or flavours, in safe environments, but in a way where you are safe say no.
Nervous System Regulation: Use sensory tools or grounding techniques so you are calm before you start meals.
Scaffolded Routines: Plan meals with predictable structure and flexible rules.

Living with ARFID is incredibly common, you’re not broken. You’re responding to a world that often doesn’t make room for your needs. So, healing does mean “fixing” it means listening to your needs and what your body is saying. The goal isn’t to become someone else. It’s to reclaim your own relationship with food, on your own terms.