“It took saying ‘I have an eating disorder’ before I could decide that I wanted to recover”

 When I try to describe my struggle with an eating disorder in a sentence or two, none come to mind. I can’t say that “I just stopped eating” and my mental health deteriorated, nor that recovery has been a straight line and now I’ve come out on the other side “healthier and stronger than ever”. It didn’t work like that, not in my experience.

In fact, it took me a while simply to acknowledge the fact that I had an eating disorder - the imposter syndrome is real, y’all. I hope to serve as a reminder that not every person will have access to a diagnosis and to treatment, and that this does not impact the validity of their struggle. Self-diagnosing, after years of feeling like a fake because I wasn’t underweight and my parents claimed that “every kid will struggle with these thoughts,” was simultaneously the greatest and the scariest step I took in improving my mental health; the choice to reach out for help without allowing others to identify my struggles for me meant I could find support where before I’d only felt threatened and ignored.

It took saying “I have an eating disorder” before I could decide that I wanted to recover, and it took wanting to recover to escape the toxic parts in my brain, those which idealized thinness and were willing to cause my body harm to achieve it. Only after I started to reflect on the factors that first affected my relationship with food could I begin to recognize them when they popped back up again like seriously unwelcome visitors, and establish better coping mechanisms to tackle the unpleasant feelings they caused (disclaimer: I’m still working on that!).

So now I can say that I’ve struggled with disordered eating and body image for a long time, and that it has made me unhappy and unhealthy; I know that I’m not to blame for not receiving adequate support, that weight stigma, preconceived notions of eating disorder stereotypes and the terrible mental health services at my school were responsible for this.

I’ve had to take control of my recovery, and even though it’s been difficult I’m incredibly proud of the journey I made. I never felt that I was sick enough to get better, never thought recovery was worth it because all I cared about was being skinny and proving myself to the world, and I stayed in a painful cycle of restriction, compensation and self-hatred for far too long as a result. It was recovery-based communities online and encouragement from my friends prompted me to make a change, and I’m so thankful for that.

I know I’ll feel “sick enough” to meet others' expectations, nor my own, yet I’ve decided that this doesn’t matter any more, and that it’s time to truly prioritize health. Recovery is scary as hell and it often feels impossible; I’ve had to deal with several setbacks and even a relapse, but I want to keep going and get better. 

I deserve to be healthy and happy, and so does literally everyone else, regardless of their circumstances or their struggles.  So I urge that you take the leap and seek help in safe spaces to guide you towards recovery, and I wish you the best of luck in your personal journey.

Story shared by Alma S.