I haven’t found a one-size-fits-all definition of “eating disorder recovery,” which is kind of refreshing. It tells me the term is fluid, and it can ripple through each of us in a unique way. It gives us permission to define the term for ourselves, in a way that makes it potentially more meaningful and personal and motivating.
It’s interesting to note how some major organizations and studies define eating disorder recovery, or try to:
- The National Eating Disorders Collaboration says: “For many people, recovery from an eating disorder signifies an end to eating disorder thoughts, feelings and behaviours and improved physical and psychological wellbeing. This may mean engaging or re-engaging with social activities, hobbies, and daily life. For others, recovery may be an ongoing process.”
- Meanwhile, a 2022 study published in the National Library of Medicine reported: “Eating disorder recovery has been defined as reaching a specific body weight, while also refraining from eating disorder behaviours and reporting lessened eating disorder thoughts. Although this seems reasonable, no studies have asked people who have or have had eating disorders if this fits with their lived experience.”
- The National Eating Disorders Association looks at recovery as having three components: Physical recovery, behavioral recovery and psychological recovery. From this perspective, eating disorder recovery involves physical healing, including restoring weight, balancing electrolytes and hormones, resuming menstruation when applicable, and addressing other medical effects of the disorder, though some long-term impacts may not fully reverse. It also includes behavioral and psychological recovery, meaning a significant reduction in disordered behaviors like restriction, purging, bingeing, or overexercising, while working through body image concerns, perfectionism, and beliefs about food, weight, and self-worth.
All of these perspectives suggest a process, which eating disorder recovery certainly is. But when I was deep in recovery, it helped me to think of this process as having an eventual, healthy endpoint. A goal. A “goal” brings to mind something more finite, solid, singular. It’s a place we can reach, an achievement we can hold up in our hand, glinting, like a marathon medal.
So what does successful eating disorder recovery mean to me?
To me, it’s the place I’m in now, the place I’ve been for about 9 years. In my personal definition:
- It’s being generally healthy, strong and fit.
- It’s enjoying food, fueling well and eating mindfully, without major restrictions.
- It’s having sustainable, consistent coping mechanisms for stress and anxiety that aren’t related to food, and that keep me away from unhealthy behaviors with food.
- It’s living with and acknowledging the old, disordered thoughts that come up while not giving them time or power – not acting on them. That means no fasting, no bingeing, no purging, no overexercising.
If I were to abide by the eating disorder recovery criteria of the National Eating Disorder Collaboration, including “an end to eating disorder thoughts,” I don’t think I’d ever be able to say I’ve successfully recovered. I’d have to have a lobotomy to pluck out whatever chunk of my brain those thoughts have taken root in.
A decade of talk therapy has convinced me that we really can’t control the thoughts that pop up in our minds; what we can control is how much time, energy, and action we devote to them – if any at all. Luckily, with practice and time, those disordered thoughts do get quieter and less frequent. They do lose their power.
What ultimately matters is: I have a definition of eating disorder recovery that is meaningful to me and brought me to a finish line, a goal I could arrive at. A place I can stay in.
