A New Chapter of Recovery: Finding Joy, Not Punishment

Life in Your 20s Series | Life Lately, Leaving My Job, Slowing Down, And Letting Go Of Pressure | Season 2 – The Pepetoe Podcast

In this episode, I’m catching you up on life lately — the highs, the scary bits, and everything in between. I’ve officially left my job (!!) and for the first time in forever, I’ve given myself permission to just be. A whole month off work to chill, reset, and figure out what I actually enjoy doing when I’m not stuck in grind mode.We talk about what it’s like to let go of structure, explore spontaneity, and unlearn the pressure to "recover perfectly" now that I finally have the time. Spoiler: recovery isn’t a productivity project, and rest isn’t something you have to earn. I also share how I’ve been swapping workouts for joy-based movement, trying new sports, and shifting the way I relate to rest and purpose.If you’ve ever felt scared to slow down or unsure of who you are without your routine, this one’s for you.🎧 Come for the life updates, stay for the honesty.

This season of life feels unfamiliar. Not in a bad way — just new.

For the first time in a long time, I’m moving my body not to punish it, but to enjoy it. I’m trying new hobbies not because I think I should, but because I actually want to. And it’s not some big, dramatic return to “who I was before” — because honestly, I’m not trying to go backwards.

Instead, it’s about getting closer to the person I am now. The one who still loves dancing. The one who missed playing hockey. The one who has always found clarity and comfort through writing. The difference is, this time, I’m doing it all without the tight grip of control, without the relentless expectations, and without that ever-present inner critic whispering, “It’s not enough.”

Relearning How to Just Enjoy Things

When I was deep in it, sports became another way to push myself to extremes. I wasn’t playing hockey because I loved the game – I was playing it because it kept me moving. Training 5 times a week, cramming in multiple matches on a Saturday, and telling myself it was “discipline” when really, it was just another way to feel worthy through exhaustion.

Now, I’m learning that I don’t have to prove anything. I can turn up to training once a week and still call myself a hockey player. I can dance on the landing and it counts. I can try a new sport just for fun – without tracking, without guilt, without asking myself if I “deserve” rest afterwards.

This is recovery, too. Maybe even one of the most freeing parts. It’s the part where I get to reclaim the things I love from the hold of obsession. Where movement becomes a hobby again, not a measurement of my worth.

Letting Go of Extremes: In Work and in Life

And it’s not just sport. I’m starting to notice the same shift in how I approach work.

For so long, my eating disorder disguised itself as “drive” – that always-on mentality that told me I needed to be the best, the busiest, the most productive. I pushed and pushed until I was completely burned out, wearing my exhaustion like a badge of honour.

But stepping away from that job (and stepping back into myself) has made me realise just how intertwined my ED was with that high-achiever mindset. It wasn’t just about food or movement. It was about always needing to do more, be more, prove more.

In this next chapter, as I start a new job, I’m promising myself this: I will take things slowly. I’ll ask for help when I need it. I’ll say no when something isn’t right for me. I won’t tie my worth to productivity or praise. Because rest is just as important as effort, and peace matters more than performance.

Recovery Isn’t Linear, It’s Layered

This version of recovery feels different. It’s less about eating fear foods or hitting a certain number of meals per day. Those were important steps, yes. But now, it’s about living. It’s about joy, balance, spontaneity, and the quiet confidence of choosing things because they feel good, not because I feel guilty if I don’t.

I still have moments where I wonder if I’m doing enough. But lately, I’m learning that enough can be a dance class I sign up for last-minute. Enough can be one hockey training a week. Enough can be writing, or laughing, or sleeping in.

It’s strange. It’s beautiful. It’s mine.

And if you’re in a similar place, somewhere between letting go and leaning in, know that you don’t need to go back to the old you. You’re allowed to grow into something softer. Something stronger. Something new.