Making Myself Small: What ED Recovery Taught Me
When I first began eating disorder recovery, I thought it would be about food. About adding things back in. About not skipping meals. About “getting healthy again.”
But what it really became was a mirror. A mirror that showed me how much of my life I had been spending trying to be small—not just physically, but emotionally, spiritually, and relationally.
And the truth is, it didn’t start with food. Orthorexia became the way I made sense of a life where I didn’t feel like I had permission to take up space.
Shrinking Myself Into an Ideal
Back then, I was in a marriage that functioned more like a parent-child relationship than a partnership between equals. I looked to my husband for guidance on nearly every life decision—where to live, what to pursue, what to say yes to. I had no time or energy for the parts of myself I’d long buried: music, dancing, painting, play. Things that once brought me joy felt inaccessible and indulgent.
I’d internalized the idea that being “disciplined” and “low-maintenance” made me lovable. My food rules helped me feel in control, especially in a life where so many of my decisions weren’t truly mine.
I even worked multiple jobs to lessen the stress my personal development spending created in our relationship. I remember being reprimanded for wanting to invest in myself. And I genuinely believed I was the problem.
A Moment of Truth
There was one moment that really shifted everything. We were in couple’s therapy, and the therapist gently suggested we start cooking together again—just something simple to connect around.
I told her that it would be nearly impossible. Between my rigid intermittent fasting schedule and the list of foods I’d eliminated, there weren’t many options left that we could both eat. And certainly not at the same time.
She paused, looked at me kindly, and said:
“That sounds a bit extreme.”
It was the first time someone had reflected what I’d been feeling deep down but had only ever received praise for: “Wow, you’re so disciplined,” and “I wish I were that healthy.”
Her words brought relief and grief all at once. I was finally seen—but also faced with how far I’d veered from myself.
Learning Who I Was, Outside the Relationship
Through some brief but impactful EMDR work, I started uncovering where these patterns began. I saw how societal values have trained women to move this way through the world. How I grew up feeling responsible for others’ comfort. How I learned to suppress my needs, to maintain harmony, and to never be “too much.”
That work continues to be a test of my compassion. Not just for my younger self—but also for the parts of me that still want to slip into people-pleasing and perfectionism when things feel tender.
Eventually, I grew the confidence to say aloud what had become clear: the relationship I was in had run its course. I realized I had turned that relationship into my identity. And the scariest, most liberating question EMDR left me with was this:
“Who are YOU?”
What Helped Me Take Up Space Again
As I began to heal, I didn’t just change my eating habits. I restructured my life.
Here are a few things that helped:
I stopped exercising altogether for a while—cold turkey. I needed to know if I was moving for punishment or for presence.
I let habituation work its magic, even when it was terrifying. Now, I’m the person who forgets there’s ice cream in the fridge—not because I’m avoiding it, but because it no longer holds power.
I celebrated tiny wins: texting a friend back later instead of immediately, eating lunch before finishing the to-do list, allowing rest even when dishes were in the sink.
I started having my own back. I stopped outsourcing my emotional regulation. It’s no one else’s job to make me feel safe. Sitting with discomfort is a skill I practice—over and over.
The Unexpected Gifts
Beginning the process of healing my relationship with food and body unearthed layers of my identity that had been dormant for years. It bled into every area of my life—in the best way.
Suddenly, I had more room.
Room for a secure, values-aligned relationship.
Room for a thriving entrepreneurial pursuit.
Room for creativity and community and joy.
Room for new connections and unexpected talents.
If you’re in the thick of recovery, I want you to hear this:
You have no idea what’s waiting for you on the other side of trying to be small.
It might be something wild and wonderful.
Something you didn’t even know to hope for.
Something that feels like you.
You Don’t Have to Do It Alone
If you’re starting to untangle these patterns—whether with food, your body, or your relationships—please know that support is available and that healing doesn’t have to be something you do in isolation. At Inner Revolution, we specialize in trauma-informed care that meets you where you are. Whether you’re exploring EMDR, IFS, somatic work, or just want a space where your story can unfold gently—we’re here.
Because taking up space isn’t just about recovery. It’s about coming home to yourself
Schedule your free 15-minute consultation today and get matched with a therapist who truly gets it.
