A blog post by Pepetoe.

I’ve always prided myself on being someone who pushes through. Through injury, through tiredness, through pain. Through that quiet, hopeful voice in my head that says “you need rest”. Because since a young age, all I saw on social media, were girls losing weight, getting “shredded”, and telling us impressionable young girls to push through anything because that’s “discipline”. In hindsight, that’s just stupid.

So, even though I’m at a much better place in recovery now, I’ve been continuing on, ignoring the signs of injury, ignoring the voices in my head screaming at me to slow down and recover. Ignoring the fact that my health has been rapidly declining. Maybe because I’ve been wanting to play hockey and run, because those things truly do give me joy now, and not in an ED-type way. Because for so long my body and my ED didn’t let me – my ED took hockey away and finally I found it again. But when my knee starting hurting months ago, I did what I’ve always done: keep running, keep playing hockey, keep pushing. Because to me that’s discipline, that’s grit, that’s commitment.

But this isn’t strength. It’s been survival mode dressed up as resilience. The last few months I’ve found to be a real struggle, and hockey was there as my release and my passion, as a distraction to all the other things going on around me.

So, when I finally sat in that appointment and someone explained to me why my body has been breaking down, why I’m injured, why my immune system is shot, something in my shifted. Nothing dramatic. But because things finally started making sense.

The Symptoms I Thought Were Just Me

During an eating disorder and also in recovery, a lot of us feel alone in it, and that the things we’re feeling are completely unique to us. That no one else is feeling it, and that really sucks. It makes it even more difficult. So here’s some things that I feel on a daily basis during my ED and still in recovery (because my body still doesn’t trust me, even 6 years later):

• Fatigue that doesn’t go away
• Dizziness when I stand up
• Crashing straight after exercise
• Low mood
• Acne
• Bloating
• Low energy that no amount of “mindset” fixes

For years, I internalised these things as personal failings. That I wasn’t strong enough, that I needed to push harder.

But being told, clearly, calmly by a professional, that these are common symptoms of anorexia and nutrient deficits? That your body cannot cope long-term without enough fuel? I felt seen in ED services for the first time. Because someone finally explained that my body isn’t dramatic. It’s depleted.

The Body Remembers

Here’s the part that’s harder to admit. I’m in a better place with exercise now. I’m not overexerting. I’m eating. I’m not punishing myself. I’ve gained some weight. I do feel healthier in terms of recovery, especially compared to this time last year, where I look back at pictures of myself and think “wow, how did I not realise I was struggling?”

But all my exercise right now is cardio-based. Running. Hockey. And my body doesn’t separate “healthy cardio” from “HIIT-every-day-to-burn-everything-off.” My nervous system remembers. There was a time deep in my ED where all I did was run and do HIIT workouts. Where exercise was control. Where cardio meant shrinking.

So even though my mindset has shifted, my body is still scared. It doesn’t trust me yet. Yes, even 6 years later since this all started.

Being Told to Stop

Being told I can’t exercise right now feels like grief. My ED took hockey from me once. For so long. I finally found it again. Finally stepped back on the pitch. Finally felt strong in a way that wasn’t obsessive. And now it’s gone again. It feels unfair. It feels like being punished for something I’m actively trying to fix. But this “health scare”, if I’m being honest, is the wake-up call I needed. I can’t spend another year doing the same damn shit.

I can’t half-recover.
I can’t fuel inconsistently.
I can’t treat rest as optional.

Growth Isn’t Glamorous

Taking a break from exercise terrifies me. I have never taken a break. Not properly. Movement has always been part of my identity. My regulation. My pride. Now? I have to sit still and trust that repairing my body is not weakness. That rest is not regression. That building trust with my body will take time. That 6 weeks without exercise isn’t going to kill me, and isn’t going to make my gain weight (maybe a little but that is healthy weight), and that’s exactly what I need in order to be able to play hockey and train for a half marathon without crashing after every session and my body breaking down on me day-by-day.

Here comes growth. It’s fucking scary. I’m terrified. But I’ll get there. One step at a time.

Xo Pepetoe