Tell us your Recovery Story!

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My recovery story has been a long and winding one, with several times that I thought I was committed to recovery, only to see myself slip right back the first time major stress hit. It ultimately took me hitting my rock bottom before I committed for real and learned to a ) find other ways to manage the stress, b ) accept that weight gain was worth it for my health and happiness, and c ) learn that this would be an ongoing commitment to recovery, not something I could just do for a month or so and then be all better.

But now I'm a few years into my recovery and I have to say, it's 1000% worth it! Yes, I sometimes wish my body looked different and yes, there are times the temptation comes back as a way to deal with some stressor, but I'm able to kick those thoughts much more quickly and stay on track and often go several days without even thinking about what/how much/when to eat, but rather doing it intuitively and trusting myself. It's freeing, to say the least! :)

@YayyySphere

I was under [edited by Anomalia to remove weight specifics/triggers] pounds when I went to a doctor of internal medicine and had tests done in June of 2010. I remember them doing an ultrasound, bloodwork, and an ECG. They told me I had sludge in my liver and bradycardia (slow heartbeat). My mother wasn't happy (I didn't care at that point...hoping to die slowly), and she made an appointment with a nutritionist and my primary. We didn't continue going to the nutritionist, but my doctor gave me some antidepressants and referred me to an LPC at the mental health facility in town. I also had to check in with her weekly for weigh-ins and blood pressure screenings.

Anyways, the first antidepressent made me lose my appetite. I was confined to bed for about a week and ate even less than I had been when food and exercise had been under my control. I think my muscles began to atrophy and I wasn't able to walk more than a few feet at a time. My doctor changed my prescription by speaking with me over the phone and I started it the next week. The medicine didn't upset my stomach, and I was able to eat bananas and smoothies and work my way up to toast and rice. My mother would take me for walks first around the house, then the block, then a few blocks. I slowly began to gain strength...not weight. It was a frustrating time because by this time I wanted it. I wanted to be well.

My counselor said to do things that once made me happy so I began scrapbooking again. Keeping a journal. Playing my cello. I remember her telling me...if there is something you want to do, go do it. So oneday I went to my cabin while my mother was out. And I ran three miles.

I wasn't quite ready to give up the control of my body yet, I guess.

I went back to school in the fall and it was a bit of the same. I would make strides in weight, see it, and exercise so that I was always the same weight as the end of the summer. I tried to forget about it and went on a study abroad trip that only heightened my anxiety. I began binging and purging there (which I hadn't done before because I had had exercise induced anorexia) and that continued for about 6 months. I gained about [edited] pounds. I graduated college the next December and met a man who liked the way I looked. He told me all the time even though he didn't know about the eating disorders. Sometimes I think GAWWWLLLL. I needed a guy to tell me I was beautiful to get over this? But I'm glad he did... because I began to see it. I know that sounds so dumb...but I did. I began to pick out nice things about me. And I could tell other people nice things about myself. I was able to exercise without getting crazy about it. I was able to eat the things I liked. My weight has gone up and down by a few pounds since then, but I don't fear it. I don't want to control my body and I haven't for about 5 1/2 years. I am currently underweight because of acid reflux, but I'm happy and I feel good. And it is possible.