My Recovery Story: What I Wish I Knew at the Beginning

If you're reading this, welcome!

Whether you're here because you are in recovery, supporting someone who is, or simply curious about my journey, I'm grateful you're here. This is my first blog post - and it only feels right to share the part of my story that has shaped nearly every corner of who I am: my recovery from an eating disorder.

I'm a survivor of an eating disorder. Those words used to reel heavy and shameful, but now they feel like strength. They feel like the truth. They feel like freedom. When I was younger, I carried a quiet belief that I wasn't enough. Not thin enough, not disciplined enough, and not worthy enough. That belief wasn't loud or dramatic; it was subtle and persistent. It dictated what I ate, how I moved, how I spoke to myself, and the way I took up space in the world. 

But this is a story about how I learned to challenge that belief and how I discovered that every person, no matter what they've lived through, deserves to feel inherently enough. 

Where Recovery Really Begins

If you've never experienced an eating disorder from the inside, it's easy to imagine recovery as a single turning point, a moment when everything suddenly becomes clear and you decide to get better. But in reality, recovery starts quietly, in the smallest cracks of awareness. 

For me, it started long before I ever asked for help. 

It started in the moments no one else could see, the moments when I would look in the mirror and knew I was slowly becoming disconnected from myself. 

If I could go back to her, the girl who thought she had to earn her worth every single day- I would tell her this: 

You do not need to destroy yourself to be accepted.

You do not need to shrink to be loved.

You do not need to be perfect to be enough.

What I Didn't Expect About recovery

The hardest part wasn't the physical changes or the uncomfortable meals, It was confronting the beliefs that held my disorder in place. Recovery required me to rewrite the narrative I had lived inside for years, and that was terrifying. 

Nobody tells you that healing often feels like losing control over everything your brain has wired itself to believe. 

But what I wish I had known sooner was that feeling lost isn't a sign that you're failing, it's a sign that you're growing. 

Learning to be Enough

During this time of my life I believed I had to look a certain way to be loved, and act a certain way to be accepted. I thought, “If I was skinnier and prettier than maybe I would have friends”. Recovery forced me to confront how deeply untrue that was. 

As I healed, I began to understand that: 

• My body never needed to be altered to be worthy of connection. 

• I didn't need to shrink myself — physically or emotionally – to be included. 

• Rest wasn't a weakness that made me less likable; it was a human need. 

• Nourishing myself wasn't something that would push people away; it was something that allowed me to show up as my real self. 

One of the most transformative parts of recovery was realizing that the love and friendship I was chasing were never supposed to depend on my size, my appearance, or how “perfect” I could perform. They were meant to come from being authentically me. 

You cannot heal a body you believe must be smaller to be accepted.

You cannot build real relationships from a place of self-rejection.

And you cannot feel loved if you don’t believe you deserve love in the first place.

For Anyone Standing at the Beginning

If you're reading this and you are at the beginning of your recovery — or even just contemplating it — I want you to know this: 

1. You are not broken. 

You are human, and you are allowed to struggle. 

2. You don't have to feel ready to start healing. 

You just have to be willing. 

3. Your worth is not something to be negotiated. 

It doesn't rise when you shrink yourself or fall when you take up space. 

4. I am proud of you. 

For surviving, for trying, for choosing yourself even when it feels difficult. 

Stepping Into Purpose

Sharing this part of myself is vulnerable, but I do it because I wish someone had spoken this openly when I was suffering quietly. I share my story not because it is unique, but because it is universal in its humanity.  I’ve spent years healing, unlearning, and  rebuilding — but I’ve also spent years studying. My background in nutrition, combined with my ongoing journey toward becoming a registered dietitian, gives me a unique perspective: I understand the science behind nourishment, but I also understand the lived emotional reality of what it means to fight for a healthy relationship with food.

My mission— In this blog, and in my advocacy, is to help others recognize the worth they already possess. To remind people that it's okay to not feel okay, because healing is possible, even when it feels distant. To create a space where mental health struggles are approached with honesty, compassion, and understanding rather than shame or silence. 

Closing Thoughts

Recovery didn't magically erase my doubts or insecurities, but it gave me something far more valuable: the ability to see myself as a whole person, worthy of care, nourishment, and joy. 

I hope this blog becomes a place where you feel seen, supported, and reminded of your own inherent value. If you take anything from my first post, let it be this: 

You are enough. Not when you achieve more. Not when you look different. Not when you “fix” yourself. You are enough right now, exactly as you are.

Thank you for being here — truly.