My journey beginning recovery from an eating disorder began long after I started my recovery therapy and nutrition program. For almost a year before I truly began to recover, I spend three to six hours a day, 5 days a week, sitting in group, individual, or nutrition therapy appointments. On top of that, I spent weeks in an inpatient program, where I intended to recover, but didn’t intend to put in the work required of me for recovery. It’s not that the treatment I was recieving wasn’t effective, or the providers I was working with didn’t do their jobs; it was my choice not to work towards beginning recovery. I wasn’t ready.
How did I know when I was ready to reach for recovery? I can say with confidence that I still can’t put my finger on what happened inside of me. Something just clicked. I had a few thoughts and helpful “aha” moments along the way that pushed me to a place where I felt safe to recover, but I don’t think I’ll ever know what the final tipping point was.
The first profound moment I can remember that truly launched me towards a recovery mindset was during one of my therapy sessions. My therapist read a portion of a book to me that recommended that I place a picture of myself as a child on my mirror and think of how she viewed her body. Did she criticize her legs or arms? Did she feel the need to control her body and make sure she was the one in power, not her body? No. She loved life, and her body wasn’t even on her mind. Furthermore, the book recommended that I think of that little girl when I have negative thoughts about my body. Would I want for that little girl to grow up and do anything but love her life and embrace her body? No. This exercise pushed me to want to recover for the little girl I saw on my mirror every day.
The next moment that propelled me towards a full life in recovery was the moment I realized that my hopes and dreams didn’t match up with the life my eating disorder was creating for me. My dream life looked a lot like a full life with a blossoming career, a caring husband, and joyful children. The life my eating disorder was creating looked more like a flat, short life with a job I had no brain space for, a husband I was too exhausted to love (if i lived long enough to meet him), and likley no children at all. Looking forward at the life I want for myself motivates me daily to keep fighting for recovery.
Finally, the last moment that pushed me towards beginning recovery from my eating disorder was the moment I began to hate my eating disorder because I finally saw it for all that it did to me. At the time in my life before I started recovery, I can honestly say that every part of my life had been negatively affected by my eating disorder. I was failing college classes, I had to quit my job to go to therapy, every single relationship I had was strained in some way, I couldn't think straight, I had no energy, I felt depressed, I didn't enjoy spending time with my friends anymore so I isolated myself, my attention span was wrecked, I got irrationally angry on a daily basis, and the list goes on. Looking back at every aspect of my life ruined by a problem that was only getting worse made simple: my eating disorder was not my friend at all, it was my enemy.