I'm SO thrilled to be able to introduce my amazing friend, Etta Eckerstorm as a guest contributor to LivingFreeC. She's an incredible voice and advocate and I am honored to be able to contribute with her in our respective blogs. Her piece is shared below.
You can check out her blog here: https://fearlesslyafraidblog.com/
Just as there should be no black and white thinking when it comes to food (i.e- a food is entirely good or entirely bad), there is certainly no black and white in recovery. One day you are sick and the next you are better. One day you struggle and the next you are fine. Recovery is a marathon, full of hills and valleys and times when you feel like your legs might give out from under you entirely. I am one who believes that full recovery is possible: a life where the rules, rituals, and fears surrounding food seem to be part of a different life entirely.
But if I am being honest with myself, painfully honest, I am not in that spot yet.
But oh, have I liked to pretend that I am.
Now that I look healthy and can go out to eat with friends and actually take days off from exercise, I let myself think that I am cured, free from the control of disordered thoughts and behaviors.
But I am stuck in the gray zone. The quasi recovered zone, if you will. The place where you are no longer at your sickest, so therefore your eating disorder tells you that you are fine. Good enough. No need to hit the next mile marker in recovery. Hold on to just enough of the rules to feel like I am still “in control,” can still micromanage my body, when the hard truth is, my eating disorder still hasn’t left me entirely.
It’s a dangerous place, this gray zone. It’s easy to pretend as though everything is fine. When you suddenly look healthier or no longer order the salad without dressing at every meal, it can seem like you have made enough progress. But what others don’t see is the internal battle that is alive and well.
The way you will stand in front of the mirror each morning, pinching the extra curves, and then deciding not to pack that extra snack in your bag.
The way you still seek out the healthier options on the menu, when all you really want is to order the burger and fries and eat the whole thing without a second thought.
The way you only take “rest days” when you know you will be active in others ways, so that it turns into only a less intense day of exercise.
The way you still try and avoid eating super late at night or ignore the hunger pains an hour before eating dinner, because you feel like you don’t deserve to listen to your body, now that it is “larger.”
The way you let the fact that your friends decided to skip a meal, or the fact that you woke up late, become an excuse to also skip a meal.
You eat all your meals, but on hard days, maybe eat just a little less. You have reached a healthier weight, but still want it to be just a bit lower. Not the lowest. Maybe just a few more pounds. But that’s how it started in the first place, right?
It can be harder to ask for help in this stage than when you were at your sickest. It’s easy to be in denial. These subtle rules aren’t that harmful, noticeable, or that big of a deal. They give you the illusion of control that so many of us desperately crave. And when you think about letting those last few pieces go, you realize that you’re too scared of how your body will change, of how you will cope. And so you place yourself in quasi recovery and cling to these remnants like a child clings to their safety blanket. You are not sick. But not really fine either.
I have let myself stay here for a while now. It has felt safe and comfortable and also so wrong all at once. As I have cheered on others, sent messages of hope and healing, and proclaimed that I have changed completely, I have also been lying to myself. I have certainly come a long way from when I started. And I have changed and grown in numerous ways. But settling for “fine” and “just recovered enough” doesn’t do justice to my journey and my future.
I deserve complete recovery and full healing. Which means I have to keep fighting. Keep pushing to those final mile markers. Until the fear and rules and voices in my head that tell me I have done enough already are gone. I have to be honest with myself, my team, my friends and family who have perhaps forgotten that I ever struggled in the first place. To continue pretending that I am healed is to continue living a lie. To be vulnerable, honest in the cracks and bruises that have yet to heal, that is hard and scary and also what I need now above all.
If you are like me, in this quasi recovered state, I encourage you to walk with me. Be honest- with yourself and those who care. We don’t have to live a life of good enough or fine. We can live a life of complete freedom.
We just have to be brave enough to try.
Hi, I'm Charlotte! I'm a 24 year old navigating life in NYC and mental health recovery. I am passionate about public health and eliminating stigma.