The word “recovery” can be a tricky one. It manifests an idea of an ending, a stopping point, the sudden existential awareness that all problems have been solved. All ED thoughts and behaviors are gone. But in my experience, eating disorder recovery is not linear.

Having been “in recovery” for more than a decade, I can attest to the ebbs and flows, the re-emergence of harmful thoughts during tumultuous times in life, and the constant challenges to the healthy strategies and skills I’ve devised for my own recovery.

I know people who have told me they have completely recovered. I used to look up to these people as walking, talking beacons of hope, as role models, as part of a club that I desperately wanted to join. While I still admire them, I also have come to terms with the fact that I may not ever get to that level of certainty.

“Recovery is a spectrum,” my newest therapist told me this week, and while I’ve known this, it’s only recently become clear how seamlessly you can shift on that spectrum without even realizing it.

But mental illness can’t be solved with a box of pills from the nearest pharmacy. We can’t just drink it away or smoke it away or turn to any type of quick fix hoping to shut it down before it intensifies. Instead, we have to dig into our archives of learned self-talk, which in my case involves about a dozen mantras and a series of questions that remind me of what’s really going on:

How can I address this without involving food or exercise?

• Write down my feelings, meditate, call a friend, color, do a puzzle, watch TV, etc.

Taking myself through these steps isn’t always as easy as 1, 2, 3. The eating disorder can get LOUD, sometimes louder than my own inner voice. Sometimes it gets so loud I end up obeying it without even realizing it. And when this happens, I know that I need help. I can’t rely on my previous thought work to outmaneuver the ED’s voice. As much as I try, I’m not able to find the compassion and curiosity I need to even begin asking myself the questions above and work out the reasons behind the resurgence. It just happens. And just like that, I’m no longer in control.

Unfortunately, I’ve slipped lately. I’m struggling to hang on to the solidity of my recovery routine. I’m unable to find the words I need in order to self-soothe and forgive myself.

But I have to keep trying. I’m building a new treatment team. I have the support of an amazing, growing community. And I’m confident that this won’t be around forever. I’ve done this before, and I can do it again.