Trigger Warning: discussion of eating disorders
When I first sought help in high school for my anorexia, I was commonly told that eating disorders are typically something that you learn to manage rather than cure or recover from completely. This is an assertion I’ve had difficulty grappling with for a while and for a variety of reasons.
As a sick 15-year-old, at her lowest, with little to no desire to improve, I found comfort in the possibility that I’ll never be “cured.” Eating disorders are a form of self-soothing, and I was profoundly resistant of letting go of my coping mechanisms no matter how self-destructive they were or how badly my loved ones wanted me to change.
Even though I was miserable, it was comforting to think that I won’t lose my crutch for good. Now that I am older, have gotten help and my mental and physical health has dramatically improved, the idea of managing as opposed to curing my illness can be maddening.
What counts as “full recovery” is a gray area and varies greatly from person to person. The reality for a lot of people though is that being “recovered” means being actively committed to recovering every day. This active commitment looks like being mindful of triggers, stopping yourself from engaging in destructive behaviors or managing the negative thoughts about food and your body — it can be exhausting.
Getting to the point in your mental health journey where your quality of life and sense of self-awareness have improved is an incredible feat, but it still comes with its own challenges. The realization that you’ve improved but knowing that you have to maintain that effort of managing your illness and choosing improvement for quite some time is conflicting.
Sometimes when feelings of anguish, sadness, dissatisfaction, etc. creep in, I can’t help but think “this is exceptionally ordinary.” I do not find it to be a huge cause of concern because I am much better than before and I know how to handle these feelings. However, it is still painful to know that these feelings and my illness are just a part of my life that I have to deal with.
It is hard not to frame this as something just being “wrong” with me forever, or there is something inherently “bad” inside me that I can’t get over. I’ve come to terms with the illness itself, but I still often struggle with the ongoing presence it will continue to have in my life.
I think the answer though lies in finding a way to accept the ongoing process of recovery as just a fact of every day life, to let yourself sit with it and feel it all without judgment. Of course that is much easier said than done, but it becomes easier when I remind myself that I am full of meaning, we are all full of meaning, there is inherent meaning and worth in the ongoing effort of getting better.
You hold so much meaning and importance and there is nothing “wrong” or “bad” inside of you. Having to commit to yourself every day can feel tiring, but there is joy to be found in it. There is joy and beauty in accepting and embracing what you feel while still making room for the light to get in.
You are well worth the commitment.