The willingness to recover
I've started to write an E-book on how to become a badass recovery queen. The part I'm sharing below will be a part of the E-book, so get excited!
We all need to start somewhere and starting recovery might seem like the scariest most daunting thing you’ve ever had to do. Having an eating disorder always felt like it was my identity and I didn’t know life beyond calorie counting, restricting, over-exersizing and being consumed around food & body.
This is where it becomes complicated. There are SO MANY opinions about how to start with recovery from an eating disorder. So many professionals, so many opinions.
I’ve been admitted into tons of eating disorder clinics where I had to follow meal plans and wasn't allowed to eat something “extra” whenever I was hungry.
I have been hospitalised where all they cared about was that the scale went up. Even if that meant eating carrots sticks with hummus and rice cakes all day. They didn't give a flying fuck about what I ate, which gave my eating disorder all the freedom to eat as safe and “clean” as possible.
I had hours and hours of different forms of therapy, talked until I couldn’t talk anymore and in the end: nothing really stuck with me, made me want to change or step out of my safe comfort zone.
I had people tell me the Lyme disease was causing the anorexia, so if I just followed an auto-immune paleo protocol for the rest of my life, aka a fucking boring and restrictive diet, I would be A-okay.
I did all of the above and again: nothing felt right.
I felt this extreme reluctance and I felt like everyone around me wanted me to gain weight and recover, except for me. It felt like someone took away my favourite toy and every part in me screamed: I CAN’T DO THIS.
But still I went into every eating disorder clinic possible, to show the people around me I was willing to recover.
Little did they know I wasn’t ready. I knew I wasn’t ready and it freaked me out knowing that I might never “be ready”. I had glimmers of motivation, but I was never willing enough to face my fears. The anorexia was my only false safety blanket.
I know this might seem a little controversial and non-motivational, but I’m just being real with you guys. Everyone always says “its never the right time, you have to start now” and although I agree in some ways, I also think that there needs to be something inside of you that is WILLING and CAPABLE of facing your fears.
Motivation comes and goes, but you’re willingness to DO something that scares you needs to be there EVERY SINGLE DAY. It’s a commitment. That’s all. A commitment to do something that scares the shit out of you. Nobody ever died of anxiety and that's all what this is.
I have all the faith in you.