Why I’ll Always Be in Recovery From My Eating Disorder

I’ve never been afraid of snakes, heights or flying. But I have been afraid of French fries. 

Flash back to 2002, and the “health kick” I went on after freshman year in high school quickly spiraled into a severe case of anorexia. By age 16, I had become so controlling about what I’d “let” myself eat that I had limited my “good” food list to a dozen items or so. My mood and joy plummeted along with my weight, but something within me wouldn’t let myself cede control. Something felt safe about the power. “If I eat the same thing I did yesterday, nothing bad will happen,” I told myself. (Translation: If I follow the rules, I will be “good.”)

By the time my parents sat me down, both with tears welling up in their eyes, to express their fear that I might starve myself to death, I had shrunk to about half of my original size. “We’re afraid we might lose you,” they said, which was just enough to inspire me to finally start to try with my recovery. 

The Healing Process Begins

I vividly remember in the thick of my intense outpatient treatment for anorexia—coordinated by a dietitian, psychiatrist and medical doctor—I was given “homework” to challenge the stark food rules that took over my life. Each week, I was tasked with selecting something that felt scary (one of those items I had categorized as “bad”) and eat it to prove to myself that nothing tragic would happen. First up, I hit the drive-through at McDonald’s, asked for a small fry, and brought the bag home to my family’s kitchen table. I unpacked it, sat down and started to bawl.

I couldn’t even verbalize at the time what I was so afraid of, but it had been years since I had eaten anything fried. It felt “bad.” Everything was so black and white to me at that time. But thanks to years of hard work, homework, therapy, antidepressants and support, I realized the beauty in the gray. I also realized all that I was missing—life itself—and how I was hurting my body if I kept fearing food. 

As I continued in my healing process, I started dining out more and actually found myself volunteering to attend blind tasting experiences at local restaurants. There, I met individuals who had such abundant, nourishing and warm relationships with food and sharing a table. One night (circa 2013), about seven courses into a 10-course small plates tasting menu, I set down my utensils, took a deep breath and realized it was the first time in more than a decade I wasn’t silently tabulating calories in my head. I was actually at the table. I was truly enjoying the experience. The food. Being in my body.

This moment was a tiny seed that has grown into a career that now includes a generous dose of food writing. I studied magazine journalism and kinesiology in college, and now get to combine that education with perspective from my personal experience, and think that all of the above help me craft shame-free, service-forward stories. Rather than it being a burden or a trigger, I find that my lived experience helps me be better at my job that involves everything from predicting the next big food trends to sharing the best foods to eat to support muscle growth to decoding the most common fad diets. I hope that my research and reporting inspire others to realize that restriction isn’t necessary (or even helpful) and to discover ways to find more joy in food and in life. 

Personally, I now have had a hard line that I will not sign on for any diet that involves restriction, tracking calories or macros or eliminating entire food groups. (Keto or Noom? No thanks.) Instead, I focus on intuitive eating with an overall goal of balance, plenty of produce for disease-combatting antioxidants, fiber for gut health and enough protein to keep my muscles, bones and body strong today—and decades from now. (I am already imagining skydiving at age 90.) 

What is Recovery?

The thing with eating disorder recovery that I’ve always found fascinating is that it feels like a practice. We eat each day—several times per day—and we also have the opportunity to move our bodies or rest them. The choices I make daily add up to my recovery, which is why I’ve never really chosen to deem myself “recovered.”

I’m so grateful to be able to interview dietitians on a near daily basis for stories about everything from poop to pomegranate seeds, but I’ve yet to ask them about this close-to-home topic: is there a difference between recovery and recovered?

“There’s not one official definition of eating disorder recovery. There are several types of eating disorders, and even the same diagnosis will present vastly differently among people,” says Christine Byrne, RD, the Raleigh, North Carolina-based owner of Ruby Oak Nutrition and a registered dietitian who specializes in disordered eating. “Plus, everyone’s baseline for a ‘healthy’ relationship with food is a bit different, depending on factors like food preferences, activity levels, cultural traditions, socioeconomic status and a person’s values.”

Elizabeth Shaw, M.S., RDN, CPT, a Prague-based registered dietitian and wellness advocate, was diagnosed with an eating disorder herself 25 years ago, and now considers herself “recovered.” Her personal experience inspired her to study dietetics so she could help others—specifically, the next generation of kids—learn how to forge positive relationships with food.

She tells me that scientists have tried to define “recovery,” but found it too challenging.  For certain eating disorders, there are physical metrics that can be monitored like weight, the presence or absence of a period (in females, if this has been affected by the eating disorder) and bone health. Yet much like with anxiety and depression, there are psychological and emotional factors that are more subjective yet can still dramatically affect quality of life.

Whether an individual has struggled with binge eating disorder, bulimia, orthorexia or any other form of disordered eating, there are a few general beliefs about what distinguishes these two classifications, according to Byrne and Rachael Hartley, RD, the Boston, Massachusetts-based owner of Rachael Hartley Nutrition and author of Gentle Nutrition:

• In recovery: A person in recovery is working to overcome eating disorder behaviors (like restricting, bingeing or over-exercising) and experiencing eating disorder thoughts (like spending excessive time thinking about food or body size) but is still actively engaging in them. They’re aiming to restore weight, if necessary, and working to improve self-destructive beliefs and actions.
• Fully recovered: A recovered person no longer engages in eating disorder behaviors. They may still have occasional disordered thoughts, but don’t feel consumed by them. 

It’s often impossible to know exactly when someone goes from being “in recovery” to being “fully recovered,” since it’s not something you can objectively measure, and it can (and probably will) fluctuate over time. Just like you can’t reach a certain job title and confirm “I’m a success!” there is no set finish line you can reach in terms of healing for you to declare “I made it!”

“The process to accepting and overcoming one’s eating disorder is a marathon, not a sprint,” Shaw says.

My Personal Definition of Recovery

Nearly 25 years after my initial anorexia diagnosis, I’d be lying if I said the self-critical, restrictive thoughts never come. They occasionally do. But now I’m in the driver’s seat, can flag those as not supportive of how I want to lead my life and act in a way that aligns with my values. Still, I generally gravitate toward well-balanced, plant-forward, protein-rich meals and snacks because they keep my energy high and digestion humming. 

“Even folks without eating disorders sometimes engage in disordered eating behaviors like food restriction, bingeing and obsessing about weight to some degree,” Byrne admits. (Think of your friend who regularly does 75 Hard or refuses to wear a swimsuit in front of anyone else.) “Completely disengaging from these behaviors is a great goal, but it’s not realistic for everybody and isn’t the end-all, be-all of overcoming an eating disorder,” she adds.

Hartley tells me that when treatment is focused on “full recovery” as the only option for success, “it can be demoralizing. If the idea of full recovery feels helpful and hopeful for someone, great! Full recovery can be possible, and it can be a motivating goal for many people,” Hartley says. “However, for others, especially those with a long-term eating disorder, history of trauma, limited access to recovery resources or who live in a marginalized body, full recovery may feel off-limits.”

Due to all of these factors, the dietitians I spoke to agree that every individual can choose what recovery means to them. Here are few signs that you’re healing and moving in the right path:

• You spend less time thinking about food and exercise
• You’re able form relationships and explore interests
• You notice fleeting thoughts about food and body and allow them to pass without letting them change your eating or exercise patterns
• You think more flexibly about food and your body and realize there’s no morality tied up in nutrition choices or body size
• You can eat spontaneously and enjoy food-focused gatherings
• You feel okay about your body shape or size changing; you don’t need to love this, but feeling neutral is a great goal

“There is so much life to be gained in each step towards healing. You don’t have to be 100% fully recovered to live a good life,” Hartley adds.

The Bottom Line

The way we feed, move, think about, talk about and listen to our bodies day after day can add or subtract from your quality of life. Being free of all vestiges of an eating disorder is an incredible goal. Nonetheless, know you’re not a failure if that’s not true for you.

“For most people, recovery is a lifelong journey, and that doesn’t have to be a bad thing! It means that you learn as you go, you stay attuned to your thoughts and behaviors around food and stay open to the idea that they can change over time,” Bryne says. “A slip in recovery—like falling into a period of under-eating, over-exercising or bingeing—isn’t a moral failure, it’s just part of the process sometimes.” If this resonates with you, know that you’re not alone.