My Healing Journey
In honor of Eating Disorder Awareness week, I am taking courage and sharing my story with you.
Here we go:
I felt lost in the battle against my ED. It consumed me in more ways than I could understand. For years, it robbed me of my emotions, of true laughter (you might know the feeling of acting out the facial expressions but not really feeling them), destroyed my relationships, and kept me trapped in a small, repetitive existence. All of this happened while I was trying to put on a strong facade and maintain my high achievement goals. All of this until it broke me one day. I wish I could say that was the moment I recovered, but it was just the beginning.
Before we dive into the LOOOOONNNGGG recovery journey, let me tell you a little about my life before my ED took hold of me.
I’m from a small village in an Eastern European country that “doesn’t exist” according to the world, Transnistria. For the most part, I have fond, romanticized memories of my childhood there, despite lacking basics such as running water. I spent endless hours outside and felt very loved until the age of six. At that point, my family split. My mom went overseas to work, and I moved in with my babushka. Until I was twelve, the most persistent feeling I had was loneliness. I desperately missed my mom, although I couldn’t quite remember her clearly, and I thought something was wrong with me because I didn’t have the same nuclear-style family as many of my friends.
Growing up, I struggled a bit with my appetite and disliking meat, but overall, I was healthy, with no significant warning signs. At twelve, I moved to the U.S. and finally reunited with my mom, which felt both odd and foreign. Everything was different, including the food. I clearly remember struggling with the adjustment to new foods and trying sushi for the first time.
Middle school was filled with the awkwardness of development, navigating friend groups, learning English, and trying to understand the Western world.
Throughout high school, I had a strong friend group that accepted me for who I was, and I held on tightly to the memories and experiences we shared. Despite this, I felt intense pressure to excel in all ways: grades, college applications, social life, and how I looked. During the summer of senior year, fears about the future began to mount. I felt like I had to soak in every moment before going away to college, which led to long days with little sleep, getting lost in activities and social commitments, and feeling overwhelmed by the passage of time.
In the fall, I finally made it to college, but this was another challenge I wasn’t prepared to handle alone, even though I tried to do it all by myself. I was in a new town without much social support, under intense academic pressure, and struggling with belonging. The isolation worsened, and at this point, the ED fully took over. My life began to revolve entirely around exercise and food.
Fast forward through the school year, since much of it was the same dreadful repetition, and I found myself unable to function. By the next fall, things still hadn’t improved, despite my efforts over the summer. At that point, it was time to surrender to treatment.
Treatment certainly saved my life, even though I resisted it internally the entire time. I wasn’t ready to accept that my ED was harmful and kept convincing myself that others just didn’t understand. Post-treatment, I experienced another phase of relapse and quickly realized that the ED had led me right back to where I started, isolated and trapped.
It was time to let go again, but this time, it felt like my decision. From there, recovery wasn’t linear, but I now had a choice, and my choice was to build a life worth living. A life I was not willing to hand over to the ED ever again.
For those feeling disconnected and misunderstood, know that you are not alone. There is a strong and flourishing recovery community out there. Give yourself permission to ask for help. The time is now.
#EDAW #HealingJourney #RecoveryIsWorthIt #MentalHealth #RecoveryIsPossible