The essence of an eating disorder’s existence is secrecy.

So long as an eating disorder is kept a secret, the individual can engage in disordered behaviors with abandon. No witnesses, no accountability, and no one keeping tabs on you. This is where eating disorders thrive.

But what if you’re starting to question things? What if you’re sick of the rumination, guilt, and shame? What if you’re scared about what will happen if the behaviors never stop and the thoughts never go away?

Making concerted change almost always requires being vocal about it. This means sharing your fears, your habits, and your ugliest thoughts out loud.

But what if people aren’t receptive?

What if they misunderstand what you’re trying to say?

What if they minimize your experience, or use it as an excuse to compare it to their own?

When you decide to talk to someone about your eating disorder, fears may flood your system, convincing you it’s a huge mistake. But I am hoping this post will help it seem less scary and more approachable.

Below, I share what has worked for me when opening up to people about my eating disorder. I also share what worked not as well, and what I would have done differently. While telling someone about your eating disorder is rarely a mistake, there are ways to address it with safety and compassion for your situation and your audience.

But first, let’s explore the fears that creep in when thinking about sharing your eating disorder with someone in your life.

Why it’s so scary to talk about your eating disorder

Second only to the idea of learning to live without the eating disorder, one of the biggest fears you may face involves telling loved ones about it. Despite all the advantages that come with transparency, saying the words out loud is scary. It may feel akin to admitting you did something wrong, you took things too far, or you had no self-control, even though the disorder was convincing you otherwise.

Being open about your eating disorder brings up a host of other fears, including the following.

Fear of being judged or dismissed

round table with french press coffee on top — You may worry that the person you tell will think less of you. Maybe they’ll wonder why you didn’t say something sooner. Maybe you’ll be the recipient of judgmental glares. Maybe you fear they’ll look at you differently.

On the other hand, you may fear they’re going to try to diminish what you’ve been going through with statements like, “It’s not that bad” or “You don’t *look* sick.” These types of comments can be devastating, especially when you’ve built up so much courage to be transparent in the first place.

Read "‘But you look fine’: Why appearance and eating disorders aren’t always linked"

Fear of being monitored

One of my more prominent fears about telling family members about my eating disorder was that they would start keeping a closer eye on me. They’d keep track of what I’ve eaten. They’d watch me eat. They’d clock my workouts and intervene if something seemed amiss.

This fear was a natural segue from living in the disorder for so long, a time when I had the same fears around people eyeing my eating and exercise habits.

Fear of being misunderstood

When people hear the term “eating disorder,” myriad images and preconceptions can enter the mind. And if your disordered criteria don’t align with your audience’s ideas, this might arouse confusion, disbelief, or set off a barrage of questions, some of which you might not be able to answer.

When we choose to open up, we want to be supported without having to prove our problem. This can be a challenge when so many eating disorders don’t match up with the most commonly understood stereotypes.

Personal story of disbelief
When I opened up to someone about my anorexia nervosa diagnosis, that person wasn’t the only one with questions. I had them, too.
I initally rejected the diagnoses, certain that people with anorexia nervosa never eat. This label couldn’t apply to me; I was eating multiple meals a day.
I eventually learned that just because a person doesn’t match every criterion for a condition doesn’t mean their behaviors aren’t a cause for concern. The nuances of eating disorders make them even more difficult to distinguish from one another, but even if we can’t assign a name to it, the presence of disordered eating warrants attention.

Opening up about my eating disorder: What didn’t work

Considering how, when, and to whom to open up about your eating disorder is a layered process, one that benefits from scrutiny and careful planning. When I started revealing my diagnosis to people, I stumbled along the way. As you ponder the type of response you’re hoping for, it may be helpful to learn about a few places I got stuck.

Overexplaining

In the early days of sharing, I wanted to overshare. I wanted so badly for people to understand me, to assure everyone I was OK and could handle it. But attempting this backfired. By trying too hard to deliver the words perfectly, I stalled, stuttered, and faltered.

I shared too many details. I tried to make people understand, and if I sensed they didn’t, I got frustrated. It took years for me to grasp that unless someone has been through this, they won’t truly understand it. So I backed off and became OK with weird looks, confusion, and even silence.

Relying too heavily on labels

At first, I told people I’d been diagnosed with anorexia nervosa. Was this true? Yes. Was it the best way to begin the conversation? Probably not.

We may think that if we can just name something, we’ll be free of it. But being able to explain something in perfect English doesn’t guarantee the other person will truly get it, nor does it help us heal faster.

two white empty speech bubbles on a brown paper surface — Even if we know what our diagnosis means to us, we can’t know for sure what it may mean to someone else. Rather than dropping the term “anorexia nervosa” early in the conversation, I started to edit my opening.

Instead, I started these conversations with something like, “I’ve realized I’ve been engaging in disordered eating.” This may sound like borderline denial, but it allowed me to guide the other person (and myself) into a more nuanced conversation.

Absorbing others’ reactions

When I started revealing my eating disorder to people, I cared a lot about how they reacted. If they were shocked, I felt the need to walk it all back. If they were concerned, I wanted to prove I was OK. It took far too long to realize that their reactions have less to do with what I’m saying and more to do with their own impressions and opinions about the topic.

Expecting the worst

Every scenario I imagined in which I told someone about my eating disorder had one of us (usually me) in tears. I dreaded the conversations, as if I were about to confess something sinful and should prepare for punishment.

Most of the time, this nightmare was less intense in reality. In fact, sometimes, it was almost pleasant:

First reveal: My cousin
At the time, my cousin felt like a safe space. She lived hours away in a different state, wasn’t in frequent communication with my immediate family, and let me stay with her one summer while I worked an internship in New York City. We had developed a comfortable rapport, so the thought of sharing my secret with her carried far fewer stakes.
When the words left my mouth, I expected an audible reaction, or maybe a facial expression that communicated severe worry and concern. But I was surprised to be on the receiving end of a person who was simply listening to me. Not jumping to conclusions, not rushing to solve my problem, not hammering me with questions. Instead, my cousin sat forward and listened with intent, unknowingly lending me the courage to open up more.

Read: "Can we talk? How to open up about your eating disorder"

What worked: Sharing my eating disorder with loved ones

How you approach telling people about your eating disorder is highly unique to you. Your situation, comfort level, and support system may look wildly different from someone else’s. But as you contemplate this step, feel free to peruse the below to learn what worked for me in my own recovery journey.

Choose your audience carefully

black rotary phone off the hook — The first person you *want* to tell may not be the first person it feels right to tell.

If you have a therapist or a trusted friend, consider running your decision by them. Practice what you want to say. If you’re in the early stages of seeking help, try writing it out practice delivering it in front of a mirror.

Embrace discomfort and silence

Discomfort is almost inevitable when trust and vulnerability are on the table. Rather than running from it, embrace it, knowing you’ll emerge with more courage and confidence.

Admit you don’t have all the answers

When you try to explain the nuances of eating disorders to someone without the direct lived experience, you’ll likely get questions. Even professionals don’t have all the answers. There’s still a lot we don’t understand about eating disorders, and it’s OK for this to be your answer.

Share your plans for recovery

While not required, sharing any plans you have to work on recovery may help ease anxiety about others’ potential reactions to your news.

On permission to let go

As much as we may want our share to be seamless, there’s a good chance we’ll hit obstacles. Our expectations may fall flat. Responses may disappoint us. And even if we explain it clinically, clearly, as accurately as possible, it doesn’t guarantee instant understanding and empathy.

But the beauty of telling someone about your struggles is that it doesn’t have to make sense to other people. It just has to make sense to you. By inviting loved ones into your journey, you’re granting them permission to cheer you on. But ultimately, your recovery is in your hands.

How I explain my eating disorder: What works, what doesn’t