Hey all! I'll be working on a series about the lessons I've learned over the past few years. My recovery from my ED and depression has come with many highs and lows. The lows I consider to be points in my life that I felt there was no way out of what I was experiencing: feelings of hopelessness, fear, unworthiness, and more. The blogs to come will explore these moments and how I survived and grew from each of them.

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The most crucial part of my recovery came from finding humility. In a time that I was lost and confused, I was able to find the courage to reach out to my family and accept the help they were desperate to give me. Although, this was not always the case… at all.

The summer before my junior year of high school, I confided in my older sister about my eating disorder. At that point, I thought it was something that I was managing and controlling on my own and wasn't something I needed to be worried about. I told my sister because I felt proud of the fact that I had found a "solution" on my own.

My sister didn't see it the same way. She went to my mom and told her about my ED. I felt utterly betrayed and felt as if I would never be able to trust my sister ever again. It makes sense that I had this drastic reaction because I was at a point that I couldn't control my behavior or feelings. My emotions were heightened because of my ED and the stress that came along with it: irritability, hanger, rage, and emptiness.

When my mom confronted me about my ED, it was over three months later than when my sister had told her, so when she confronted me, I was angry, confused, and hurt. Why did she wait so long to say something? Why did my sister betray me? Have they been talking about me behind my back this entire summer? I had such irrational thinking. When my mom did say something to me, she told me I was going to see a therapist to get this problem fixed and that was that.

When I saw the therapist my mom chose for me, she asked me about my story and asked me how I was feeling, and at the end of the session, she sent me on my way with high hopes. After the second session of my reluctant participation, the therapist thought I was doing better and that I could set up a future appointment if I felt I needed someone to talk to. Otherwise, I was done with therapy and well on my way to a happy life. (Um what?) Looking back at this, I am in shock as to how wrong she was and how little she did for me at that time. Yet at the time, I was ecstatic about the end of therapy and clearance with my parents.

While I wasn't truly recovering at that point, I went on to have a normal and happy junior year of high school with some of the best friends I've had. My ED order behaviors were minimal and I was convinced that I was "better" and healthy.

This phase of happiness and "normal" day to day living continued through October of my senior year of high school. I know this was my turning point because of long and continuous therapy sessions that helped pinpoint my trigger. At the end of October, my closest friend at the time called me out for being a sl*t in front of all our friends. I was mortified, hurt, and shocked. My friend said that my history with talking to so many guys and cutting them off after a few weeks was the behavior that led to what she thought of me. She didn't apologize and she reaffirmed that she thought that way about me.

Someone who was a constant, positive part of my life had become someone who hurt me and reminded me of something I hated about myself. Logically, I knew I wasn't the person she accused me of, but emotionally, I took it personally and harder than anything I had before.

This was the beginning of the lowest and hardest part of my ED.

From October to February, I lost a total of 40 pounds. My eating was so disordered that when I finally got help, I was 2 pounds away from being forced into an inpatient recovery program.

Throughout October to February, I struggled immensely. Every single thought I had was revolved around food; how can I avoid it, what will it do to me, will people notice?

People did notice. My dad was constantly telling me I was too skinny. My mom continually asked "how are you?". Teachers were holding me after class asking me if I was eating.

All I did was deny and deny. My boyfriend at the time was the only person, outside of my therapist (who I love!), who I confided in. He made me feel normal, and while I was with him, I didn't worry about food, or my dads cancer, or my own insecurities and pain. He held all my messy pieces together and had me convinced that my ED and depression wasn't as bad as it really was. I saw him as my fix: the out of my reality.

And then he cheated on me. I can't remember a time that I felt such immense pain. I was going through life dismissing everything and everyone besides him, and then one day, he was gone. He left, and I had all these pieces of me falling apart because he wasn't holding them together.

At that point, I realized how broken I was. Between him leaving, my doctor telling me I was close to needing to go into an inpatient program, and all the fainting spells I had at school, I realized I couldn't manage this alone. I hit my rock bottom, and it was like I woke up from some kind of hibernation from life. I walked into my parents room one night, crawled into bed, and sobbed to them, asking them for help.

Not even three days later, I started an outpatient program for ED recovery. I saw a nutritionist and two therapists everyday for a month. It was the hardest thing I've ever done in my life, and I'm not exaggerating. I did what is called "mechanical eating" which was how I broke my disordered eating. I had to eat a certain number of carb, protein, and fat "portions" a day. This was all regulated and controlled by my nutritionist. Then, I processed the emotions of discomfort (physical and mental), anger, and frustration with my therapists. And as time went along, I began to process the emotions of accomplishment, pride, happiness, and comfort.

This was quite a transformation for me and it lasted from the end of February to the end of June. My goal was to feel comfortable and understand my emotions, so I could go to my first year of college with a healthy body, mind, and spirit. I accomplished that goal!! YAY ME (celebrating my recovery is important to progressing in it)!

The thing about recovery is that it's not perfect. I had relapses that lasted anywhere from a day to a week, but that's how recovery works. There's moments of strength and moments of weakness. I had my fair share of both.

DISCLAIMER: I didn't do this on my own!!! I had my parents, my friends, my teachers, and my therapists supporting and encouraging me throughout the entire process. They gave me daily and even hourly reminders of why my recovery is so important and how loved I am. I can say with confidence that I would not have been able to get to where I am without all of their support and love.

Me 45 pounds later and happy as can be in my body!

DISCLAIMER AGAIN: There were people who discouraged me and made me feel like I didn't deserve to be successful in my recovery. They made me believe all the lies I was told by my ED.

The thing I didn't realize until after my recovery was that the people who helped me through my recovery were the people who wanted to help me the entire time I was struggling. They were praying for me and "annoying" me with their questions and accusations because they cared and wanted the best for me. It took me a long time to realize this, but at the end of the day, each and every one of the relationships were strengthened and are important and wonderful relationships in my life today.

I am blessed to have such an amazing mom and dad who didn't give up on me and gave me the time and opportunity to realize I needed them and the help they could give me.

I'm not trying to make my recovery sounds like it was full of rainbows and unicorns because it wasn't. There were times that I felt the recovery process was useless and a waste of time on everyone's part. But AGAIN, that's how recovery works. I am humbled by the fact that my recovery is not something I can do alone. It truly takes an army to win the battle.

Although my story is unique to me, there are so many people who can relate and understand what I've gone through. I hope that at least one person gets something out of reading this. And if you're reading this and have any questions or need someone to talk to, you can email me or leave comments. I'm an open book and would love to hear your stories and feedback!

XO

-Mal