As is typically encouraged by my eating disorder, I've been hesitant to write about my personal struggle with anorexia. My disorder didn't feel like I was good enough to do so, and I didn’t think I was far enough in recovery to be of any help. But then I realized that the problem wasn’t that I haven’t fully recovered. The problem was that I had yet to embrace the fact that I am still recovering.
After nearly three years of working tirelessly towards recovery, I felt ashamed that I hadn’t yet achieved the picture-perfect recovery that I had always heard about. So I did what I do best: I put on a happy face and did my best to pretend that I was doing just fine, fabulously even. The façade didn’t last long. Recent circumstances drained my emotional energy and forced me to admit that despite how far I have come, I am still struggling. Being vulnerable has always scared me, but it has also never failed to get me the help I truly need and deserve.
So rather than share my story of the disorder, one that many already know, I want to share a few of the roadblocks I have encountered during my long, winding road to recovery.
1. When life gets rough, my old friend ED likes to come back to help.
My eating disorder was my way of coping with “life”. If everything else in my life was going wrong, the disorder reminded me I had something I could get right. If I had failed a test, at least I had succeeded in meeting its whims – sometimes at the expense of my academic success. Fortunately, I have learned better coping mechanisms for obstacles and stress throughout the recovery process, but sometimes, my Eating Disorder feels like the easiest and most tempting option.
The last few months have been some of the most challenging in my life, in more ways than one. And because of that I have had to work much harder to stay on my path of recovery. I have struggled daily in a fight against the eating disorder’s demands, which I am already far too familiar with. While the symptoms present themselves differently than they once did, milder and harder to notice, there is no denying that their roots are still deeply embedded in my mind. It is now a matter of recognizing the warning signs and doing everything in my power to counter them. With the help of my recovery team, I have armed myself with the tools and strategies to actively combat my disorder, and get my life back.
I have amazing days. I have really awful days. I have everything in-between. But even when I wake up to ED screaming, I just have to do the best I can. I silence my disorder by loving myself better.
After nearly three years of working tirelessly towards recovery, I felt ashamed that I hadn’t yet achieved the picture-perfect recovery that I had always heard about. So I did what I do best: I put on a happy face and did my best to pretend that I was doing just fine, fabulously even. The façade didn’t last long. Recent circumstances drained my emotional energy and forced me to admit that despite how far I have come, I am still struggling. Being vulnerable has always scared me, but it has also never failed to get me the help I truly need and deserve.
So rather than share my story of the disorder, one that many already know, I want to share a few of the roadblocks I have encountered during my long, winding road to recovery.
1. When life gets rough, my old friend ED likes to come back to help.
My eating disorder was my way of coping with “life”. If everything else in my life was going wrong, the disorder reminded me I had something I could get right. If I had failed a test, at least I had succeeded in meeting its whims – sometimes at the expense of my academic success. Fortunately, I have learned better coping mechanisms for obstacles and stress throughout the recovery process, but sometimes, my Eating Disorder feels like the easiest and most tempting option.
The last few months have been some of the most challenging in my life, in more ways than one. And because of that I have had to work much harder to stay on my path of recovery. I have struggled daily in a fight against the eating disorder’s demands, which I am already far too familiar with. While the symptoms present themselves differently than they once did, milder and harder to notice, there is no denying that their roots are still deeply embedded in my mind. It is now a matter of recognizing the warning signs and doing everything in my power to counter them. With the help of my recovery team, I have armed myself with the tools and strategies to actively combat my disorder, and get my life back.
I have amazing days. I have really awful days. I have everything in-between. But even when I wake up to ED screaming, I just have to do the best I can. I silence my disorder by loving myself better.
2. Being skinnier, running farther, and eating less didn't make me a better person. Returning to a healthy weight, exercising because I love it, and eating what my body needs revives who I am as a person.
Despite the fact that I have drilled this point into my head, there are still times that my disorder yearns for the "old" me, the disordered me, and days when I feel a hint of jealousy when I see someone faster/skinnier/smarter than me. This false sense of competition and constant comparison used to dictate my every decision. But in reality, there never was (and still isn’t) a competition. I was literally killing myself to be in first place. I find comfort in the fact that I can't remember the girl I used to be. I cannot fathom going back to the way I was – barely living. On the days that I feel like I'm failing, I just have to remember how far I have come and take pride in my daily recovery victories.
3. I can’t do it all by myself.
Not even considering the professional help, that has been critical to my success, I need people in my daily life to keep me sane. Luckily, I have friends who will drop anything to help me. I just have to let myself ask for it.
When recovery gets hard, I tend to isolate myself; I distract myself with a workload that is too heavy, and I tell everyone that I'm fine. As you can probably guess, this ends badly for everyone involved. It ends in a Friday night spent on the couch, crying to a friend who came to your rescue (Yopo in hand!) after you finally admit that you were too exhausted and depressed to handle things alone. Holding things back turns what should have been a happy reunion with a friend into a bursting forth of tears and flooding of old feelings that have been suppressed for months.
Isolation can make you feel like you’ve lost everything you’ve worked for in recovery. Remember that this doesn’t discount any of the progress you’ve made. It only serves as motivation to keep choosing recovery - and that starts with asking for help when you need it.
Whether you’re three months, three years, or three decades into recovery - embrace it. Recovery isn’t a finish line that we simply suffer towards; recovery is every step, every choice you make to get your life back, to be happy. Recovery is a journey to find true happiness, even in our darkest days.
Despite the fact that I have drilled this point into my head, there are still times that my disorder yearns for the "old" me, the disordered me, and days when I feel a hint of jealousy when I see someone faster/skinnier/smarter than me. This false sense of competition and constant comparison used to dictate my every decision. But in reality, there never was (and still isn’t) a competition. I was literally killing myself to be in first place. I find comfort in the fact that I can't remember the girl I used to be. I cannot fathom going back to the way I was – barely living. On the days that I feel like I'm failing, I just have to remember how far I have come and take pride in my daily recovery victories.
3. I can’t do it all by myself.
Not even considering the professional help, that has been critical to my success, I need people in my daily life to keep me sane. Luckily, I have friends who will drop anything to help me. I just have to let myself ask for it.
When recovery gets hard, I tend to isolate myself; I distract myself with a workload that is too heavy, and I tell everyone that I'm fine. As you can probably guess, this ends badly for everyone involved. It ends in a Friday night spent on the couch, crying to a friend who came to your rescue (Yopo in hand!) after you finally admit that you were too exhausted and depressed to handle things alone. Holding things back turns what should have been a happy reunion with a friend into a bursting forth of tears and flooding of old feelings that have been suppressed for months.
Isolation can make you feel like you’ve lost everything you’ve worked for in recovery. Remember that this doesn’t discount any of the progress you’ve made. It only serves as motivation to keep choosing recovery - and that starts with asking for help when you need it.
Whether you’re three months, three years, or three decades into recovery - embrace it. Recovery isn’t a finish line that we simply suffer towards; recovery is every step, every choice you make to get your life back, to be happy. Recovery is a journey to find true happiness, even in our darkest days.
Ally studies Exercise and Sport Science and Biology at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. She loves traveling, teaching group fitness, cooking, and boating. She won't tell you this, but she's a badass, sassy as hell, and one of the best friends you could ask for.