The Day Hummus Sent Me Into a Full-Blown Panic (and What It Taught Me About Anxiety, Shame, Support, and Healing)

By Allison Summer, LPC | Specializing in OCD & Eating Disorders

I’ve eaten garlic and hummus my entire life. I loved it. It was familiar, comforting, safe.

Which is why it felt so absurd when, one random day in college, my brain decided that garlic was suddenly dangerous and that my body was going into full anaphylactic shock.

There’s an important thing to know:

I had never experienced anaphylaxis before.

I had no diagnosed food allergies.

I honestly didn’t even fully understand what a real allergic reaction looked like.

And yet, in that moment, my mind decided this was life-or-death.

No warning.

No gradual build-up.

Just panic sirens blaring at full volume.

My chest tightened.

My heart pounded.

My breathing became shallow and frantic. I remember stumbling into the bathroom because it felt like the only place I could anchor myself. The room spun. My body shook. Everything felt terrifyingly out of control.

Before I fully understood what was happening, I was sitting on the cold tile floor — terrified, convinced something catastrophic was happening inside my body.

Then the campus EMTs arrived.

I remember the harsh fluorescent lights overhead.

I remember the cool tile beneath my legs.

I remember the oxygen mask being placed over my face.

And I remember thinking:

“How am I here… over hummus?”

It sounds humorous when you say it out loud now — hummus, garlic, panic, EMTs — but in that moment, it did not feel funny.

It felt like I was in danger.

And here’s what many people don’t understand about panic:

Your nervous system reacts as if the danger is real — even when your logical brain knows it isn’t.

My brain whispered:

“You’re not safe.”

And my body believed it completely.

The Embarrassment That Comes After Panic

Once things stabilized and I could breathe again, the panic faded…

…and shame rushed in.

That hot-face, stomach-sinking, “please let me disappear” shame.

I replayed everything in my head:

“Did I overreact?”

“Why couldn’t I control this?”

“Everyone must think I’m ridiculous.”

And honestly?

Some people confirmed those fears.

There were jokes.

There were eye rolls.

There were comments like:

“You know it was just anxiety, right?”

“That’s so dramatic.”

“Over hummus? Seriously?”

But it was serious.

Not because I was in medical danger…

…but because my nervous system fully believed I was.

That doesn’t make me weak.

It doesn’t make me dramatic.

It makes me human.

Gratitude and Embarrassment Can Exist Together

Here’s the complicated truth:

I was humiliated…

and also incredibly grateful.

Grateful that people took me seriously.

Grateful that help came.

Grateful no one decided it was “too silly” to respond to.

Two things were true:

😳 I was mortified.

💛 I was relieved and supported.

Both deserve space.

The Fear Didn’t End There

You’d think the story ended there.

But anxiety rarely wraps up neatly.

After that day, my nervous system filed the experience under:

“Food Might Equal Danger.”

Every time I ate afterward, fear quietly crept in:

“What if it happens again?”

“What if this is the moment something goes wrong?”

Logically?

I knew it didn’t make sense.

Emotionally?

My body remembered panic.

And this is where restriction began —

not from fear of my body’s shape or size…

but from fear that certain foods might quite literally kill me.

“This is where restriction existed — not because I feared my body changing, but because I feared certain foods could take my life.”

This is where ARFID and anxiety intertwine in ways many people don’t see.

It isn’t “picky eating.”

It isn’t attention-seeking.

It is a survival response misfiring — and the body treats it as truth.

My brain was trying to protect me.

It was just working overtime.

Living in the Space of “I Know This Isn’t Logical… but I’m Still Terrified”

One of the hardest parts was living in the internal tug-of-war:

One part of me:

“This is anxiety. You’ve eaten this forever. You’re safe.”

Another part:

“But what if this time you’re not?”

Every meal became negotiation.

Every bite carried tension.

Every sensation felt like a warning alarm.

It’s exhausting.

It’s real.

And it deserves compassion.

A Thank You to the People Who Stayed

There’s another important part of this story:

The people who stayed.

The ones who:

sat beside me,

believed me,

didn’t minimize it,

and helped me try again.

To the friends and family who sat with me while I faced “fear foods,”

who didn’t rush me,

who didn’t shame me…

Thank you.

Thank you to the ones who grounded with me.

Who talked with me.

Who stayed calm when I couldn’t.

Who helped regulate my nervous system when mine forgot how.

Thank you for treating my fear as real, even if you didn’t fully understand.

Thank you for staying present rather than pushing.

Healing didn’t come because someone “talked me out of it.”

Healing came because people stayed with me through it.

That kind of support matters more than words will ever capture.

🧠 Therapist Perspective: What Was Really Happening (ARFID, Panic, and the Nervous System)

As both someone who has lived this and as a therapist, I want to say this clearly:

What happened wasn’t dramatic.

It wasn’t “picky.”

It wasn’t attention-seeking.

It was a nervous system response.

When panic activates, the brain flips into survival mode. The body reacts as if danger is happening right now. And that happens even when:

• you’ve never had anaphylaxis

• you don’t have diagnosed allergies

• you don’t fully understand allergic reactions

The fear response becomes the authority.

Once the brain pairs fear with a certain food, experience, or sensation… it remembers.

That’s where ARFID can develop.

🌿 What is ARFID?

Avoidant/Restrictive Food Intake Disorder isn’t about dieting, thinness, or body-image control. It is often rooted in:

• fear of choking

• fear of allergic reactions

• fear of vomiting

• traumatic food experiences

• sensory overwhelm

• anxiety-driven avoidance

It’s the brain trying to protect you — just a bit too aggressively.

🧩 How This Differs From Weight-Focused Eating Disorders

This distinction matters.

💬 Many eating disorders are rooted in concerns about:

• body size

• weight

• shape

• dieting behaviors

ARFID is different.

Restriction here wasn’t about wanting a smaller body.

It was about not wanting to die.

The motivation is survival — even when the threat isn’t real.

Both deserve compassion.

Both deserve treatment.

Both deserve understanding.

They’re just driven by different fear systems.

❤️ What Actually Helps

Healing doesn’t come from:

❌ “Just stop.”

❌ “Get over it.”

❌ minimizing

❌ teasing

❌ force or pressure

Healing comes from:

✔️ compassion

✔️ nervous-system regulation

✔️ gradual exposure

✔️ collaborative support

✔️ being believed

✔️ trauma-informed care

Your nervous system isn’t broken.

It just needed help finding safety again.

If You’ve Ever Felt This Way…

If you’ve ever:

• had a panic attack that convinced you something terrible was happening

• felt embarrassed afterward

• been judged or minimized

• found yourself afraid of something that used to feel normal

• lived in the gap between logic and fear

I see you.

Your body wasn’t failing you.

It was trying to protect you.

You’re not dramatic.

You’re not ridiculous.

You’re not “too much.”

You are human.

What I Know Now

Today, I can tell this story and even laugh a little.

But I also honor the younger version of me — sitting on that bathroom floor with an oxygen mask on her face, terrified, overwhelmed, and doing the best she could.

Both truths matter.

Healing doesn’t come from shame.

It comes from understanding.

From compassion.

From nervous systems learning safety again.

From people who stay.

Here’s to bodies that panic loudly.

Here’s to messy moments.

Here’s to gentleness.

Here’s to learning safety again.

And if hummus has ever made you cry…

you’re not alone. 😂

Allison Summer

LPC | OCD & Eating Disorder Specialist

A Brighter Day Wellness