Recovery & Realities

Recently, I was asked to return to my treatment center, which is the Renfrew Center of Charlotte, to talk to some current patients about what recovery looks like a year or two down the road. I was given a list of questions to prepare answers for and thought I’d share my answers with you.

What do you know now that you wish you would’ve known prior to treatment?

Prior to treatment, I wish I would’ve known that everything about recovery is worth it. Every ounce of joy, pain, suffering, and elation, is all worth it. Why? Because for once you’re fighting for yourself. When you’re stuck in your eating disorder, you’re constantly fighting against yourself, pushing your values and your soul away. In recovery, every tear shed is because you are choosing life.

One thing I don’t wish that I’d known how difficult treatment was. Actually, I think I think that would’ve made it harder. You will figure out how hard treatment it is, but no matter how difficult, know that it is worth it.

What was the most surprising thing you learned about yourself and/or the process during treatment?

I learned that no matter my number of accomplishments or extracurriculars, awards and honors, etc., I have a sort of fiery streak in me that I never would’ve found had it not been for recovery. Treatment taught me resiliency. It taught me that, if I can fight an eating disorder, I can fight absolutely anything.

What has been the most difficult part of recovery?

This is a tough question to answer. To me, the most difficult part of recovery has been separating myself from my eating disorder. I know that this is an answer that is often given, but it wasn’t until these past few months that I realized just how attached my eating disorder is to me, and I to it. It clings to me and, at times, I do the same. What I didn’t realize is that all of those negative thoughts I have — I can’t do this, he doesn’t like me, she’s so much better than me — it’s all the eating disorder. Is it part of the human condition? Sure, but then again, so is disordered eating. In this, the most difficult part of recovery has not only been cutting off my eating disorder’s voice, but also finding my own. What do I like? What do I value? Who am I outside of my disorder? That’s what I’m determined to find out.

How have you cultivated motivation throughout the treatment process and afterwards?

Motivation is under no circumstances easy to cultivate. I’ll be honest— in order to keep my motivation, which I can’t always do, I have to rely on a lot of things and people. My treatment team and mother are great reminders of why I’m in recovery, as they’ve seen me at my worst and at my best. They can help me remember why I’m doing this, and that I never want to go back to my worst. At the same time, I also have to rely on this one, underlying core belief that I’ve grown, which is: the eating disorder is no longer an option. It’s not acceptable to me anymore. I refuse to engage in behaviors because they do not serve me — they never have, and they never will. It’s because of this that I can turn on a sort of autopilot mode, in which I think, I don’t quite know why, but I’m going for recovery right now.

Many people ask what they can expect recovery to look like. How would you define recovery for yourself?

To me, recovery is balance. To be perfectly candid, I’m not recovered. I probably won’t be for a long time. Recovery is a long and, at times, grueling process. But I know what recovery looks like, because I’m invested in it, and every now and then, I get these amazing peeks into what recovered life is like. Recovery is this balance that I find so difficult to achieve between not controlling and not being controlled. By this, I mean that recovery is this state in which you aren’t controlled by your thoughts of food or body image, but you also don’t have a death grip on your food and weight. Just as well, you aren’t controlled by your emotions, but you also don’t control your emotions to a point that doesn’t allow you to feel. Recovery isn’t a state of euphoria; recovery is the middle. And let me tell you, it is worth it.

What does normalized eating look like for you?

Normalized eating looks completely different for everyone, and I’m sure the way I define it looks really different from the way anybody else would. I view normalized eating very similarly to the way I view recovery: it’s a balance. It’s food freedom. It’s not having your thoughts being consumed with food one way or another— whether you tend to fret about your next meal or plan every activity on your agenda around dinnertime, food freedom is a sense of weight being lifted, and it’s being able to participate in life without the baggage of the next meal. Normalized eating is rocky, and frankly, quite abnormal in today’s day, but it’s possible.

Does recovery ever get easier?

Yes and no. There are days where my eating disorder doesn’t cross my mind once. There are also days where all I can think about is my disorder. Recovery really is cyclic, and by this, I mean that it all comes in waves. At times, recovery is easy and enlightening. At others, I feel like I’m back in the hell that is my disorder. Either way, you’re fighting the fight that saves your life this time around, not the one that steals it from you. So no matter if recovery gets easier or not (which, truthfully, it does; there is a general upwards trend), you are choosing what is right for you.

How are your relationships different now post treatment?

My relationships are so much better post-treatment and post-disorder. They’re more honest. When I was in the depths of my disorder, I hid. I hid things, I hid behaviors, and I hid myself. Now, I’m honest with people, for better or for worse, because I’ve realized that life is much too short and too special to spend time lying and hiding. Just as well, my relationships are more genuine. Because I’m able to be myself more, I’m able to connect more readily with those around me. I’ve found that I’m much more well-received when I’m using my recovery brain, and it’s for good reason. We all know that our disorders can turn us into some pretty nasty people.

I thought I would also add that, since I’ve been in recovery, I’ve started dating someone, and this has done a real number on my eating disorder. What I mean by this is that my eating disorder doesn’t quite know how to deal with this notion that someone else finds me attractive and maybe even loves me. My disorder refuses to accept this notion as an actual possibility, but it’s my reality now, and I love it.

I love my reality, because my reality now is recovery. 

Just like I said, I appreciate every second of pain and joy that comes along with it. I’ll say it a million times over: recovery is worth it. The lessons learned are worth it.

You are worth it, and you are worthy of recovery.