Three years into recovery, and things look pretty different now. It hasn’t always been smooth or straightforward, but every step – no matter how messy – has taught me something. I’m still learning, still growing, and still figuring some things out. This post is a reflection on what’s changed, what’s stayed, and what’s still unfolding.

If you have been a part of the Pepetoe community for a while now, I’d like to think you have some kind of understanding about eating disorders. Let’s be honest, despite the prevalence of EDs in our society, and the growing proportion of the population being diagnosed with one of many types, it is still a taboo topic, and not many of us like to talk about it. We all know on Pepetoe that it is a safe space to open up the conversation and spread awareness about such a dangerous mental health condition.

I’m not here today to spout statistics and rant about the healthcare system, but instead to share some more positive learnings from my time in recovery.

Part I: What I’ve Learnt

I don’t think I’m going to be able to fit every lesson I’ve come across over the last few years in a single post, but I’m going to try and tell you the most important ones!

Starting off with the big one: recovery is not – in anyway – linear. At the start of my journey, I had this big hope that if I just started to take care of myself more (ie, no restriction, less exercise, and more mindfulness), everything would just unfold and I’d be ok. Then I learnt that it’s not just about those things (although there have been the key pillars in my journey), but rather that every single day is a battle – and I’m still facing that now. I’ve had relapses, setbacks, bad days… whatever you want to label them. But I’ve also had good days – great days, in fact – and I’ll tell you that there’s been more ups than downs over the last three years. So, I’m growing.

There’s this thing that I like to call quiet progress. It’s the idea that not every day or week is going to be about quashing those old habits or fear foods. It can simply be just getting on with life. The majority of my journey has been a “quiet progress”, and I’m ok with that. There, of course, has been the “louder” days of crying and trying so hard with everything I have to not slip back into old habits, but there’s also been “louder” days of growth, healing and relief in a way.

Another important thing is this idea of letting go of control, and also perfectionism. Eating disorders can be centered around one thing: control. And this was exactly true for me. When we were in a world so uncertain (ha, you guessed it – the COVID-19 pandemic), it felt like the only thing I could control was food and exercise. Starting out as a simple change in lifestyle, based on the fear of weight gain from not doing much over the lockdown periods, evolved into something much bigger. But I know I’m not alone in this. It took me years to let go of this need to control and hold onto everything. Even things like a morning routine – as much I want to build that back up, I know that having such strict regiments isn’t a good idea for me. And I’m ok with that now. Perfectionism controlled my life for so long, so I’ve learnt to find quiet piece in letting that go, and just being 100% me: the raw, real and honest version of me.

What really helped me grow and come out of that dark place was by surrounding myself with supportive people. At the start of recovery, I isolated myself, as I thought that was the best way to deal with the weight of everything changing. A few months later I realised that was the complete opposite of what I needed to do. I evaluated the people in my life and asked myself if they could really help me get to a place where I’d be ok on my own again. It was a painful process of cutting people out of my life (saying “thank you and goodbye” as I’ve explained in my recent blog post here), and I’m actually still doing that now. I’ve learnt to protect my peace and my boundaries, and if people can’t support me (or even simply be there for me) I don’t really want them in my life. I don’t think that’s selfish – it’s just real.

I also spent a lot of time curating my social media feeds. Following and unfollowing helpful and unhelpful accounts, to prevent the influence social media can have on vulnerable people like me. Now when I scroll, I’m not afraid to continue on the same path. It’s reminded me that social media can be a great place and build communities just like this one! On that note, I’m actually working with BEAT at the moment to create content guidelines for those who post anything about EDs, diets, gym and so on – a really exciting project that I feel so fortunate to be a part of (stay tuned for this one!!)

Lastly, and this may be at the top of the list too, is I’ve learnt to detach myself from my eating disorder. For so, so, so long anorexia was who I was. It was my whole identity. As someone who loved fitness before the exercise addiction creeped in, I thought that was all of who I was. It took me a very long time to let go of that identity (and I’m still in the process of doing so – a quiet progress, though). Your illness is not who you are. Sure, it may have helped (and not helped) you become the person you are today, but it isn’t who you are. It’s a small part of you, and you are worth a lot more than that.

Part 2: What I’m Still Learning

Body image is an ongoing journey

There are days where I feel completely neutral in my body, and others where I still struggle to look in the mirror. I used to think body acceptance would be a final destination, one big switch that flipped. But the truth is, it takes daily intention. I’m learning to be more compassionate with the way I see myself, to detach my worth from appearance, and to stop chasing a version of “enough” that doesn’t exist. It’s a lot harder now when I see myself through a relapse. But the work I’ve put in stops those voices coming up and saying I look “good”, that “skinny is good”. I thank my body for all it does for me in a day, rather than hate on it for not being the “ideal” body type – whatever the hell that means! It’s still a massive work in progress, with more niggles coming to light everyday. But I will get there, and you will too.

Trusting my instincts again

Recovery taught me to question a lot of my old patterns, but it also left me second-guessing myself at times. I’m still learning to trust my hunger cues, my emotions, my ability to make decisions. To believe that I actually know what I need, and that I don’t always have to ask for permission or seek external (and internal) validation. Eating disorders can take away your sense of being, leaving you as just a shell of a person. Being able to come away from that as learn that you are, in fact, a person (as weird as that sounds), is the strongest thing you can do. Learning to trust who you are again: your personality, your smile, your flaws, your strengths. It is the most exciting time in anyone’s journey, in my opinion.

Being okay with not being “productive” all the time

This one still hits hard. Rest used to come with a side of guilt. If I wasn’t doing something useful, I felt like I was failing. I’m slowly unlearning that mindset. Healing means giving myself the same softness I offer others, and remembering that I don’t have to earn my right to exist peacefully. Rest days are still hard, but I’m learning to listen to my body and my mind and remind myself that they are needed. Sometimes I even go a whole week without doing anything – and the guilt is slowly seeping away. Toxic productivity, perfectionism and the sense of over-achieving has definitely held me back a little in this journey, but I now know that not being those things, not having those traits, is also powerful.

Feeling emotions without needing to control them

For a long time, any intense emotion felt like something I needed to fix or avoid. And I used exercise and food to control them. I’m still learning to let myself feel things fully, without spiralling, suppressing, or numbing. It’s uncomfortable sometimes, but it’s also what makes me feel more human and connected. The weirdest thing was the beginning of last year, when, for the first time, I had deep, intense emotions about something that had nothing to do with my eating disorder. It was shocking but also liberating that I could think about something else other than food and exercise. Now, emotions can be felt and dealt with because I know that not everything relates to my eating disorder – because my identity isn’t wholly anorexia.

Accepting that healing isn’t a destination

I thought recovery would have a clear end point – some version of “done.” Do you remember when I thought I was fully recovered a year ago? But I now know that healing is more of a relationship with yourself than a finish line. It changes, evolves, and deepens over time. I’m learning to see progress in the quiet moments, not just the big milestones.

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Part 3: A Letter to Anyone Earlier in Recovery

If you’re at the beginning of your recovery journey, I just want to say: I see you. I know how overwhelming it can feel to start untangling everything, and to let go of the habits that once felt safe and step into the unknown.

I know how hard it is to believe that things can get better when everything feels so heavy. But they do get better. Not all at once, not in a perfect straight line, but in little shifts, small wins, and the way your world slowly starts to feel more full again.

Be patient with yourself. Celebrate the tiny victories. Cry when you need to, and rest when you can. You don’t have to get everything right. You just have to keep showing up for yourself, imperfectly, honestly, and with a little more grace than you think you deserve.

You are not broken. You are not alone. And you are absolutely worthy of the peace and freedom that’s waiting for you.

Keep going: future you is already so proud.