When a Therapist Asked If I Was Even Trying to Recover From My Eating Disorder

“I know you say you want recovery, but your actions are showing the opposite. Are you even trying?”

This is what my therapist said after about a week of inpatient eating disorder treatment.

Ouch. Right? Every stigma about “just trying” to get better was thrown in my face by the one person I was supposed to trust throughout my treatment. I was taken aback. How could she say something like that? She clearly didn’t understand. I went into a tail spin, questioning my ability to recover from anorexia. If my therapist didn’t believe in me, why should I?

The outside world tells those of us with mental illness that our illnesses are our fault. We’re told that we are crying out for attention, not trying hard enough or that we’re just lazy, not sick. Those messages weigh down on me and make me question my illnesses. Do I really have anorexia, or do I just want attention? Is my depression real, or am I just lazy? I rely on people like therapists to reaffirm to me that I am really sick and that I am deserving of treatment. But then I was betrayed.

The worst part of it all? I was trying harder than ever. Before entering the treatment center, I told myself I was finally going to recover. I wanted my life back! I walked in ready to throw punches, but I was too tired. With an NG tube down my throat, puffy eyes from crying over dinner and silence in response to every question, it may not have looked like I was trying.

What my therapist didn’t see were all the thoughts swirling in my mind. Calling me fat, worthless, disgusting and more. She couldn’t see that I was physically unable to lift my hands to eat or drink. She couldn’t see that I was crying at meals because I wanted to eat, but didn’t know how. She didn’t know that I needed help, but couldn’t ask. I was stuck and didn’t see a way out. I felt helpless.

I spent a lot of time in treatment reliving that moment, trying to make peace with the accusation. Trying to understand why my therapist was siding with the rest of the world against me.

Eventually, I realized something that set me free. My actions showed that I was struggling, not that I had given up. If I had given up, I wouldn’t have gone to the meals, wouldn’t be crying and wouldn’t be in treatment at all. My actions showed that I was fighting an uphill battle against my demons. The outside world didn’t know. They didn’t have to know. Because I know that what the outside world calls “failures” are pushing me closer and closer to recovery. I may be struggling, but at least I’m fighting.

If you or someone you know is struggling with an eating disorder, you can call the National Eating Disorders Association Helpline at 1-800-931-2237.

We want to hear your story. Become a Mighty contributor here.

Thinkstock photo via Ingram Publishing