Shared Experiences from My Eating Disorder Recovery Journey

Written By: Brandy Walker CCI Recovery Coach

In a heartfelt exchange with a client, I opened up about my journey through eating disorder recovery, recounting how I, too, shed tears over many meals, grappling with the complex emotions that accompanied each bite. This vulnerability was rarely explored in such detail, even during the most challenging phases of my own recovery. Then came a question that had never been posed before, not even by myself: “What were the tears for?”

This simple yet profound inquiry prompted me to revisit the memories of those meals, unraveling the web of emotions I had navigated during one of the most difficult times of my life. It dawned on me that my tears were not merely about the struggle to eat; they conveyed emotions and beliefs deeply ingrained within me. The following reflection stems from that moment of inquiry, a journey into understanding the significance of my tears and what they represented in the broader narrative of my recovery.

As I sat at the dining table, staring at my plate, waves of heat and anxiety washed over me. Hunger occasionally stirred within, yet it was not the sole companion to my meals. Whether hungry or not, a deeper realization emerged: to break free from my eating disorder's grip, I needed to persevere.

My tears were manifestations of long-held emotions stemming from beliefs about my self-worth. They carried the weight of internal sadness and a sense of isolation that had long shadowed me. Each tear echoed a farewell to a body size that seemed inseparable from my value, both in my own eyes and in the eyes of others.

Within those tears mingled fear—a fear of the unknown, and dread of judgment from unseen observers. They embodied shame: a harsh acknowledgment of my hunger, as if my basic needs were a source of disgrace.

Anger, too, seeped into the salty streams running down my cheeks—an angry recognition of the necessity to nourish my body despite internal resistance. And amidst it all, embarrassment quietly crept in—embarrassment over the sheer difficulty of performing a basic human act like eating.

But perhaps most poignantly, those tears were a battle cry against disgust: disgust aimed at the food before me, at my own body, and at the idea of having needs. In moments of vulnerability, I wrestled with deep feelings of unworthiness, questioning whether I deserved nourishment and self-kindness.

The mechanics of eating were daunting. I focused intensely on the smell and texture of the food before me. My jaw clenched, and my throat tightened, as if my body physically resisted what my mind knew it needed. Swallowing was an immense struggle, and my body sometimes rebelled. Yet, through it all, I persevered, choking down the food amidst tears.

Today, as I reflect on those times, I see my tears as a conduit through which my emotions traveled from deep within to the vast openness where healing and self-discovery awaited. Each meal felt like a battlefield, with each challenging bite a step forward. It was a testament to human resilience—the willingness to confront deepest fears and forge a new path, where nourishment and self-compassion gradually replaced fear and self-loathing.

Sharing part of my recovery journey, I hope my tears, once symbols of struggle and resistance, can now illuminate the path for others on their own journey to healing. To know that amidst turmoil, there is a shared experience, a common thread that binds us in our humanity and our pursuit of healing.