by Jenna, Silver Linings Peer Mentor
This is Part 2 of Jenna’s 3 part series “Healing in Phases”. Click here to read Part 1.
Part 2: Recovery
Recovery is uncertain at first - the unsteady bridge to an unknown destination. It can feel like deciding to redecorate your home with the expectation of moving the furniture and finding yourself tearing up the floorboards.
I wanted to recover in the most methodical way possible, and spent countless hours researching fitness and nutrition. In becoming obsessed with being what I then believed to be the epitome of health, I came to a crossroads with toxic wellness culture; despite the concerns my doctor had presented me with, there was a severe disconnect between my perception of the disorder and the reality of how severe it truly was.
I was a member of an online fitness community where we posted frequent “before and after” photos of ourselves and our meals in the name of accountability. I was no longer restricting, but weighing every morsel of food, now obsessed with protein intake rather than calories. I felt a sense of moral superiority when my Instagram followers hailed me as an “inspiration,” or my loved ones commended my “discipline.” I proudly proclaimed to be a recovered anorexic in my posts, and was thrilled to share my progress with my therapist, until she asked a pivotal question:
“Have these changes been giving you the life you wanted?”
They weren’t.
What I failed to realise was that my disordered behaviours had simply disguised themselves through the lesser known, more socially acceptable orthorexia. While the driving factors that influence both disorders are perfectionism and control, orthorexia is entrenched in the obsessive need to eat “healthy.”
I wasn’t ready to let go of my thinly-veiled disorder. It allowed me to uphold the practices I felt were intrinsic to my worth, but ultimately made me miserable. I still had severe anxiety about adhering to rigid eating patterns and strict exercise routines - and engaged in self-harm when I felt I failed to do so. My phobias consumed my energy in a way that left no space to enjoy life. I was skipping my own birthdays,nights out with friends, and home-cooked meals with my grandparents. I went on a solo trip to Europe after graduation and only ate the fruit I bought at supermarkets.
I had to admit that I needed help, which was immensely challenging after so many years of feeling I had to be self-reliant. I thought if anyone ever knew I deliberately hurt myself or grappled with insecurity, it would make me inferior. I had to acknowledge that there was a deep-seeded part of me that felt I deserved to suffer, and didn’t deserve the privilege of other people’s support. I had to shed the overidentification I felt within my disorder; having once reveled in the praise I received for my restrictive tendencies, I wondered who I could possibly be without them.
Through further dialogue with my therapist, I came to the cusp of a paradigm shift. In having my experiences validated, I was able to admit that I didn’t have to do everything entirely on my own, and that the “me” engulfed by anorexia wasn’t “me” at all. I was ready to change the direction of my journey and leave striving for perfection behind in the pursuit of a life where I could love myself and allow others to love me. This posed the subsequent question:
Could my greatest fears really pave the way to my greatest goals?
As I learned to seek out resistance rather than avoid it, figuring out what didn’t work for me, or serve me in my recovery, was imperative to discovering what did. As my mind and body became properly nourished, the alleviation of my mental and physical fatigue was like coming back online for the first time in years; I had the cognitive capacity to be more receptive to therapy than ever before. Unlearning my maladaptive behaviours as I became liberated from disordered thinking was the difference between living and truly feeling alive.
In the mysterious way of the universe, my favourite musician released a single that coincided with what I now call the renaissance of my recovery. Entitled “Hunger,” it alludes to her own struggles with disordered eating and leaving behind the pursuit of love in places of lack, both of which resonated with me deeply. Knowing someone I had always looked up to had also felt this way completely changed my outlook on recovery, and inspired me to share my experience with others. I made a post about what the serendipitous release of the song had meant to me in a facebook group of fellow fans, and came to discover that several of them struggled with the same feelings I did. We then formed a group chat to share our stories, and I felt a profound sense of belonging, security, and self-worth. I began to think that if so many people dear to my heart could unpack and overcome their afflictions, maybe I could too. They certainly didn’t deserve to live their lives consumed by eating disorders, and by gradually coming to view myself through the same lens, I realised that I didn’t, either.
I can now proudly say I’ve been fully recovered for over 6 years.
Stay tuned for Part 3 of this series, exploring what being fully recovered from an eating disorder means.
Do you resonate with Jenna’s story? As a Silver Lining’s peer mentor, Jenna provides validation, empathy and hope to individuals navigating the recovery process. Peer Support is flexible, free of charge and designed to meet you where you’re at. Fill out this short intake form to request a mentor or email Sophie at sophie.balisky@silverliningsfoundation.ca .