When recovery doesn’t feel like healing: The meaning behind the messiness

Intrusive thoughts? Gone.

Obsessive behaviors? History.

Crappy body image? Healed.

This is what I was hoping for as I launched my fragile self into the unknown world of eating disorder recovery.

Little did I know that healing would be a lot more tumultuous than I anticipated. In fact, I soon learned it would look nothing like this.

Instead, recovery brought me a host of new problems—anxiety, overwhelm, and, at times, emotional turmoil. During particularly trying moments, I questioned whether it was worth it, because it surely did not feel like I was healing in the traditional sense.

We hope that recovery will guide us toward relief, freedom, and maybe even happiness, and this is (mostly) true. But it can also feel disorienting, intense, and incredibly uncomfortable. After all, eating disorder recovery requires us to go against the instincts that have resulted from our bond with our disorder, and any kind of concerted change takes courage and effort.

In this post, I’ll share:

• what it’s like when recovery doesn’t feel like healing (e.g., when we might actually miss our eating disorder),

• why hurting and healing tend to go hand in hand, and

• how to hold conflicting emotions in recovery.

Let’s get to healing!

When you grieve what hurt you

Recovery calls on us to learn to let go of something that once made us feel safe, that once helped us get through difficult moments. Disordered eating often offers structure, control, and comfort when our external worlds teem with chaos. They may even provide a sense of identity, especially if we’ve traded activities we used to enjoy for isolating, disordered behaviors.

As we start to loosen our grip on the disorder, a chasm forms between who we were and who we’ll become. We’re faced with the task of mourning not only the behaviors but also the role the eating disorder played in our lives, like providing the stability we needed on uneven ground. We may also find ourselves grieving the time, energy, or moments we lost because of the disorder.

But on the upside? We can start to look forward and fantasize about all the future moments we’ll be able to experience fully, without the voice of the disorder nagging us. Grief doesn’t mean you necessarily want to return to what was; it means you’re missing something that once mattered to you.

It’s common to want to recover but also feel sadness about what you’re leaving behind.

When anger storms in

A second strong emotion that tends to arise in eating disorder recovery is anger.

As you move through recovery, you may find you feel anger at three different entities:

• at the eating disorder—for what it took from you

• at yourself—for struggling

• at society—for being the breeding ground for body insecurity

Anger is a complicated emotion. I, for one, still struggle with how to express anger. It can feel unsafe and overwhelming, and we’re not always taught how to deal with it.

Anger isn’t always the primary emotion. Sometimes, it’s simply a signal that we feel strongly about something, and it’s inviting us to explore what that is. It may be trying to protect us, alert us that we need to set a boundary, or clarify something that was once confusing.

Rather than running from anger, we can learn to sit with it, journal about it, and remind ourselves that navigating difficult emotions is just another part of healing.

When you question who you are without your eating disorder

The longer we engage in disordered behaviors, the more ingrained they become. It’s the same with any habit.

Eating disorders tend to become routine and essential to getting through each day. In this way, the disorder envelops our identity. Turning to our behaviors allows us to lean into a sense of self and even a sense of belonging, even though it’s largely solitary.

Once we start to unravel ourselves from the disorder’s entanglement, we may sense a loss of structure. We may feel disconnected from ourselves and question who we are outside of our disorder’s grasp. This can be disorienting and downright scary. If we’re not latched to our disorders, who are we? Or, reframed from a recovery point of view, who might we become?

When you miss your eating disorder

One of the most conflicting paradoxes in recovery? The notion that you want recovery, but you also want your eating disorder.

This internal conflict is confusing and jarring. But when broken down, it makes sense. Here’s why.

The eating disorder once served a purpose. It offered solace, consistency, and reliability when we needed something soft to land on. The brain remembers the relief and familiarity we experienced when we turned to our behaviors, so it may still hunt for that glimmer of warmth when we’re feeling unsteady.

Missing our eating disorder is not the same as returning to it, though. Thoughts and urges don’t have to equal actions. We can long for our disorder while also remaining committed to recovery.

Personal Story: When I actually missed my eating disorder

Only when I started recovery did I realize how reliant I’d become on my eating disorder. I turned to it in my most desperate moments, and it was always there for me. As the behaviors waned, I felt myself longing for them—not in a tempting way, but in a nostalgic, desire-for-comfort way. I fondly reminisced about coming home after a day at work or a strenuous workout, and spending the next few hours indulging my disorder. It became routine, expected, and something I looked forward to. For any memory like this, it can take effort to peel yourself away from it. And over time, I replaced these rituals with new ones I learned in recovery. Now, the disordered behaviors are a distant memory. I’m not ashamed of them. Instead, I still honor them for serving me what I needed at that time.

When you feel opposing feelings at the same time

As you may have guessed by now, much of recovery requires learning how to hold two feelings at the same time.

For example, one new tactic can feel right for your recovery, but you can also completely hate it. You may notice yourself healing externally while furious and struggling underneath. You may confidently state you no longer want to engage in behaviors, but you still think about them.

This complexity highlights a key component of recovery: flexibility. Black-and-white thinking fuels the disorder, dividing our actions into good vs. bad. And this type of thinking hinders progress. By allowing nuance into our thought processes, as well as gentleness and forgiveness, we become more resilient and tolerant of uncomfortable emotions.

When healing seems small

At this point, it probably goes without saying that recovery isn’t always peaceful, linear, or immediately rewarding. But the challenges, as small or as powerful as they are, don’t indicate failure. They can signal a major change is happening.

As much as we want recovery to be an enlightening and encouraging journey, the reality doesn’t always match. We’re faced with opposing emotions that may leave us questioning why we should even bother to recover in the first place. But learning how to let these emotions exist without rushing to change or stifle them is the true foundation of healing. These moments don’t always feel monumental, but they’re absolutely worth celebrating.

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Pause & Prompt

Think of opposing feelings you may have about recovery. Write a dialogue between these two feelings.

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