The Hardest Thing I’ve Had to Accept in the Past Year of Eating Disorder Recovery

It’s National Eating Disorders Awareness (NEDA) Week, and as with every other year, I come with a new perspective and something new to say.

I’ll be honest: I’ve had a few rough, relapse-fueled months, and I’m still working on climbing out of this hole I’ve been in, but I am thankful I’m not where I was a month ago or the month before that.

The truth is, recovery is hard; it is so hard, especially when, in our society, “you look so skinny” is the “best” compliment you can receive. We live in a society where dieting is healthy, and truly enjoying food isn’t; “Cheat meals” are scolded and restriction is praised. It is sad, but also so very real (and half the time we don’t even realize we’re a part of it.)

I don’t entirely know how I’m going to do it, but I’m trying to come to terms with the fact that I just can’t be a part of that anymore. We all have different bone structures, unique genetics and we will never have the same body as a celebrity, or your best friend, or someone you saw walking down the street. This has been the hardest thing for me to accept in the process of recovery; I can’t change what my body is supposed to be without running it into the ground … literally. So, it comes down to: I can live my life chasing something I will never achieve, possibly killing myself in the process, or I can live. I can travel, I can try new foods, I can have birthday cake, I can go out to dinner with my husband and order dessert if I feel like it, I can be active without feeling like I am going to pass out, I can grow, I can be present; I can just be.

I can’t lie; I still miss my eating disorder pretty often, but choosing recovery is the only way I will ever have any shot at finding my way back to myself, or I guess finding myself for the first time ever outside of it. As of lately, I am enjoying being active in a healthy way for the first time ever. It is amazing what you can enjoy when you aren’t thinking about what you are burning off during it. I am learning to live; I am learning from my lapses.

I still have a lot to work on, a lot to learn, and many things to unlearn too. Recovery really doesn’t have a finish line, and I don’t know where I’ll be next year, but with each year that passes, I’m thankful I’m not where I was the year prior. That must mean I’m doing something right. I’m hoping, next year, I will have even more to share as I go on this journey of healing.