What recovery means to me
By Julia Tannenbaum
For over five years now, I’ve been in recovery from anorexia but only recently have I begun to think about what those two words—in recovery—truly mean. While I’ve come a long way from an insecure, self-loathing teenager who was convinced her weight determined her worth, I don’t consider myself “fully cured” yet (although I hope to be one day). However, to me, that’s not what recovery means.
Recovery means I’m able to live my life on my own terms, not the terms of my disorder. When I was unwell, my disorder dictated what I ate, when I ate, where I went, who I associated with—even when I woke and slept. Ironically, in the grand quest I’d undergone to obtain more control in my life, I’d ended up losing it all to an invisible disease. For a long time, I genuinely thought I’d never escape; that I’d be a prisoner to anorexia forever.
But in my recovery, I’ve taken back the reigns, and, in doing so, the ability to live my life how I please.
Recovery means I have hopes and ambitions for my future that are unrelated to food and calories and weight loss. Hopes of relationships and career opportunities and new, exciting experiences I was once completely closed off to. Ambitions of traveling the world and writing a best-selling novel and finding true love and making a difference in not only my own life but the lives of others.
Recovery means I recognize the importance of prioritizing my mental health and always make an effort to put it first. This involves taking basic self-care steps every day: eating enough. Getting a good night’s sleep. Exercising—in moderation. Talking to trusted people when I’m feeling low or at least being around others so I’m not sitting with negative emotions on my own. Finding a balance between work and relaxation. Utilizing the toolbox of coping skills I’ve acquired from my years in treatment to navigate the inevitable ups and downs of recovery. These seemingly small steps have made a huge difference in me getting a better, healthier, and happier place in my life—and staying there.
Finally, recovery means I’m free. Free from the disordered thoughts that consumed my mind for far too long. Free from urges to restrict and count calories and hurt myself. Free from the faulty assumption that my worth is dependent upon a number on a scale. Free from self-loathing and body dysmorphia. Free to eat whenever and whatever I please and genuinely enjoy food too. Free to be my authentic self and feel proud of who that person is.
Recovering from anorexia is singlehandedly the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. Like most of life’s greatest endeavors, it was a process that took ample time, patience, and perseverance. And it was worth it. I now know that recovery isn’t just possible; it’s very much attainable and, even on the worst days, 100 times better than the half-life I lived when my disorder was in control. Everyone’s experiences with recovery are different, but this is mine, and this is what it has meant to me so far.
Written by Julia Tannenbaum
Julia Tannenbaum is the author of the Changing Ways trilogy, which she started writing when she was seventeen, and the co-creator of Nourish, an online cookbook and eating disorder recovery blog. She's an advocate for mental health awareness and often incorporates her personal struggles into her written work.
Julia is currently pursuing a Creative Writing and English B.A. at Southern New Hampshire University. She lives in West Hartford, Connecticut.
