This is such a brave and generous piece of writing. What struck me most was the way you describe honesty not as a single moment of confession but as something you had to grow the capacity for, slowly, painfully, and often in the dark. That feels so true.
I really felt the part about performing recovery versus actually allowing yourself to be in it. The way you describe Recovery Record — the discomfort, the shame, the turning toward instead of away — captures something so real about what recovery looks like from the inside: not triumphant, but trembling. Not clean, but honest.
And there is something incredibly hopeful in the way you describe writing becoming its own kind of recovery. The idea that once you let a little truth in, hiding becomes harder resonates deeply.
Thank you for sharing this with such clarity and tenderness. Your words make space for other people to tell the truth too, and that is no small thing.
Thank you for this tender response, as always. I struggled to publish each one of these more vulnerable reflections and then I am always so grateful that I have because of people who tell the truth right back to me. Thank you for always being one of those people.
Your vulnerability and bravery in sharing such a personal struggle means someone will feel less alone in their own pain and that’s truly what we need more of in the world. Sending you warm thoughts.🤍
As a Christian, I've thought for a long time that being "honest to God" in prayer is as much about being honest with yourself as anything else. As an introverted Brit of "certain age" ( I'm in my 60's) I'm not used to talking about "feelings" with humans but I always felt I could talk to God. Gradually, over the decades, I've come to know and love myself through this relationship with God and with myself - as a result, I discovered 3 years ago that I was autistic (not "weird" as I'd thought & been told for the previous 58 years!) So began my (potentially lifelong) investigative journey into my true identity. I can honestly say, the future is both exciting and scary (both are down to adrenaline, after all), but I can't wait to experience it!
Thank you so much for sharing this, and it sounds like you have discovered a great path for yourself, even if it is also a scary one. I think however we are able to be honest with ourselves is a healthy path forward. It took me a long time to get there, and for me writing has been an instrumental part of the process. But I still feel like throwing up every time I hit publish on one of these more honest and vulnerable pieces.
Really moving piece. I really resonate with where you talked about waiting to feel safe before falling apart. When things get quieter in my life, the internal work can get harder!
I’m wondering, how does it feel to be in recovery during the age of Ozempic? Some days, I struggle, especially as my social media is filled with people dropping points.
Such an interesting question. Sometimes it does feel hard. Honestly, I mostly feel envious about the idea of a pill that stops all the food noise. I wish they made those without the weight loss side effect. I definitely have feelings about this, but haven't spoken any out loud yet. I'm so appreciative of your asking and making think about what's going on internally. Thank you.
Omg, I also feel that about the food noise! As a person who has gone up and down in weight and struggled with binging, I’m just waiting for the day a doctor mentions it to me and I have to really face it. I don’t know what I would do or say in that moment. Need to puzzle that out.
OMG…that armor is/was so damn heavy. I’m a food binger with 35 years of not drinking under my belt. I often wonder if that wasn’t accomplished because I know I can and do eat my way through my feelings. I know the answer, of course. Thank you for helping me find the questions I need to answer.
Your words moved me. Not just because of the story you told, but because of the way you told the truth about it. There is something profoundly courageous about naming the places where hiding once felt like the only safe choice, and then allowing yourself to be witnessed in that undoing.
What you describe about honesty resonates so deeply with what recovery really takes—not simply restoring behaviors, but restoring connection to yourself. The courage to sit with discomfort, to stay in relationship with your experience, and to meet yourself without the armor—that is the sacred work.
Recovery Record was never about the food. It was a doorway. A place you let yourself stop pretending and start seeing. And you’re right—honesty alone isn’t the whole story, but honesty is always where freedom begins.
I am grateful you trusted the process enough to take that first step into transparency. And I am even more grateful to see how you kept walking—through the writing, through the moments where it would have been easier to turn away, through the fear and the truth and the opening that followed.
Your words carry something that will speak to others who are still living inside the silence. Your story is proof that recovery is not a single moment or a single victory—it’s a living practice of returning to yourself again and again.
Thank you for sharing your wisdom and your truth. It is an honor to witness your healing.
Gah, Elisabeth, I hope you know how much this means to me, because I can't put it in words. Put it in words. This line: to meet yourself without the armor—that is the sacred work. That is exactly right, before it is about showing it honestly to other people, it is about meeting yourself. Thank you for being here, always.
This hit hard. Most people don’t realize that the ‘armor’ you describe isn’t dramatic or obvious, it’s psychological body armor the brain forges to survive what it couldn’t process.
In forensic psychology, we see how that armor becomes a cage: it keeps you alive at first, then keeps you small.
The real bravery isn’t relapse or repair, it’s the moment you stop hiding from yourself.
Honesty is the most terrifying detox there is.
Your story shows what recovery actually looks like: not polished, not linear, just a human being finally stepping out from behind the shield they never should’ve needed in the first place.
Thank you for leaving this year, I just listened to the intro. It is clear for that you and your family have been through the wringer, that your words are real, I also write without a packaged ending, but that is the truth of this disorder. Also, your writing is beautiful and clearly going to help people,
Thank you so much for being honest with us, and more importantly with yourself. Your journey is so important to so many, and I am grateful to know a glimpse into your life a little more. Here for you friend and thank you again for your honesty and realness.
Always friend! You are doing such hard, but necessary writing — exposing truths and hurts with the internet is never easy, but it does help to have people you know you can count on and trust to be there alongside you every step of the way — encouraging and supporting in whatever capacity they are able to offer.
Thank you so much for this! I think those of us who deal with disordered eating will always have to "monitor" the triggers that initiated the condition. Learning to love exactly who we are right now and not the idealised version of ourselves that may have been imposed on us for various reasons. I'm not anal about it but I'm certainly now able to acknowledge what could make me lean towards a, fortunately, only abbreviated version of it. I can quickly rectify the thought patterns and internal criticism that may start what I call a "flare". Hasn't happened in a very long time, thank goodness. I appreciate you very much.
Thank you for sharing this year. I think recognizing our patterns and vulnerabilities and triggers are so important. I have found that each time I've had a relapse I haven't dipped quite so low or struggled quite so hard to get back to where I needed to be. Each return to self gets a little bit easier, but accepting that it is a vulnerability has been very important for me.
Thank you for sharing this with me. It is a shockingly common story. And you're right, the hardest part is admitting it to yourself. For me it really took writing it down, that was the first place I found I really couldn't lie.
This is such a brave and generous piece of writing. What struck me most was the way you describe honesty not as a single moment of confession but as something you had to grow the capacity for, slowly, painfully, and often in the dark. That feels so true.
I really felt the part about performing recovery versus actually allowing yourself to be in it. The way you describe Recovery Record — the discomfort, the shame, the turning toward instead of away — captures something so real about what recovery looks like from the inside: not triumphant, but trembling. Not clean, but honest.
And there is something incredibly hopeful in the way you describe writing becoming its own kind of recovery. The idea that once you let a little truth in, hiding becomes harder resonates deeply.
Thank you for sharing this with such clarity and tenderness. Your words make space for other people to tell the truth too, and that is no small thing.
Thank you for this tender response, as always. I struggled to publish each one of these more vulnerable reflections and then I am always so grateful that I have because of people who tell the truth right back to me. Thank you for always being one of those people.
Being able to see everything is such a gift to yourself and your readers.Thank you.
Thank you for this.
Your vulnerability and bravery in sharing such a personal struggle means someone will feel less alone in their own pain and that’s truly what we need more of in the world. Sending you warm thoughts.🤍
Thank you so much, just know it means so much for me to hear this.
As a Christian, I've thought for a long time that being "honest to God" in prayer is as much about being honest with yourself as anything else. As an introverted Brit of "certain age" ( I'm in my 60's) I'm not used to talking about "feelings" with humans but I always felt I could talk to God. Gradually, over the decades, I've come to know and love myself through this relationship with God and with myself - as a result, I discovered 3 years ago that I was autistic (not "weird" as I'd thought & been told for the previous 58 years!) So began my (potentially lifelong) investigative journey into my true identity. I can honestly say, the future is both exciting and scary (both are down to adrenaline, after all), but I can't wait to experience it!
Thank you so much for sharing this, and it sounds like you have discovered a great path for yourself, even if it is also a scary one. I think however we are able to be honest with ourselves is a healthy path forward. It took me a long time to get there, and for me writing has been an instrumental part of the process. But I still feel like throwing up every time I hit publish on one of these more honest and vulnerable pieces.
Recovery, anorexia, the deeper pain … all hard things. Thanks for your story. I have a former design client, he lost two daughters to this.
That's devastating, I'm so sorry to hear that. I know I'm lucky.
It truly is and the story even more so. My dream is a young woman was to be able to open a recovery center for people with eating disorders.
Mine was too:)
Like minds and great ideas 🥰
Really moving piece. I really resonate with where you talked about waiting to feel safe before falling apart. When things get quieter in my life, the internal work can get harder!
I’m wondering, how does it feel to be in recovery during the age of Ozempic? Some days, I struggle, especially as my social media is filled with people dropping points.
Such an interesting question. Sometimes it does feel hard. Honestly, I mostly feel envious about the idea of a pill that stops all the food noise. I wish they made those without the weight loss side effect. I definitely have feelings about this, but haven't spoken any out loud yet. I'm so appreciative of your asking and making think about what's going on internally. Thank you.
Omg, I also feel that about the food noise! As a person who has gone up and down in weight and struggled with binging, I’m just waiting for the day a doctor mentions it to me and I have to really face it. I don’t know what I would do or say in that moment. Need to puzzle that out.
As a therapist I have lots of questions too!
It's good to think about and maybe good to talk through with someone you trust.
Got my topic for this week’s therapy session!
That seem like a perfect landing spot.
OMG…that armor is/was so damn heavy. I’m a food binger with 35 years of not drinking under my belt. I often wonder if that wasn’t accomplished because I know I can and do eat my way through my feelings. I know the answer, of course. Thank you for helping me find the questions I need to answer.
Thank you for sharing. And we all have armor, it's hard to move forward without it. The work of taking it down is slow and non-linear.
Your words moved me. Not just because of the story you told, but because of the way you told the truth about it. There is something profoundly courageous about naming the places where hiding once felt like the only safe choice, and then allowing yourself to be witnessed in that undoing.
What you describe about honesty resonates so deeply with what recovery really takes—not simply restoring behaviors, but restoring connection to yourself. The courage to sit with discomfort, to stay in relationship with your experience, and to meet yourself without the armor—that is the sacred work.
Recovery Record was never about the food. It was a doorway. A place you let yourself stop pretending and start seeing. And you’re right—honesty alone isn’t the whole story, but honesty is always where freedom begins.
I am grateful you trusted the process enough to take that first step into transparency. And I am even more grateful to see how you kept walking—through the writing, through the moments where it would have been easier to turn away, through the fear and the truth and the opening that followed.
Your words carry something that will speak to others who are still living inside the silence. Your story is proof that recovery is not a single moment or a single victory—it’s a living practice of returning to yourself again and again.
Thank you for sharing your wisdom and your truth. It is an honor to witness your healing.
Gah, Elisabeth, I hope you know how much this means to me, because I can't put it in words. Put it in words. This line: to meet yourself without the armor—that is the sacred work. That is exactly right, before it is about showing it honestly to other people, it is about meeting yourself. Thank you for being here, always.
This hit hard. Most people don’t realize that the ‘armor’ you describe isn’t dramatic or obvious, it’s psychological body armor the brain forges to survive what it couldn’t process.
In forensic psychology, we see how that armor becomes a cage: it keeps you alive at first, then keeps you small.
The real bravery isn’t relapse or repair, it’s the moment you stop hiding from yourself.
Honesty is the most terrifying detox there is.
Your story shows what recovery actually looks like: not polished, not linear, just a human being finally stepping out from behind the shield they never should’ve needed in the first place.
This is beautiful. This is the line that hit hardest for me: Honesty is the most terrifying detox there is. It sure is...
Our family has been struggling through this for the last three years. My daughter and I decided to write about it. I'd love to know what you think of our attempts to come to grips with this massive challenge. https://www.amazon.com/dp/1738137430/?bestFormat=true&k=three%20years%20with%20a%20monster&ref_=nb_sb_ss_w_scx-ent-bk-ww_k0_1_22_de&crid=1JOJ9ALA9YOTI&sprefix=Three%20years%20with%20a%20mon
Thank you for leaving this year, I just listened to the intro. It is clear for that you and your family have been through the wringer, that your words are real, I also write without a packaged ending, but that is the truth of this disorder. Also, your writing is beautiful and clearly going to help people,
Thank you so much for being honest with us, and more importantly with yourself. Your journey is so important to so many, and I am grateful to know a glimpse into your life a little more. Here for you friend and thank you again for your honesty and realness.
Gahhh, thank you for this. I am so very grateful to have found you on here, to have you along for my journey and to be let in on yours.
Always friend! You are doing such hard, but necessary writing — exposing truths and hurts with the internet is never easy, but it does help to have people you know you can count on and trust to be there alongside you every step of the way — encouraging and supporting in whatever capacity they are able to offer.
Truth. Thank you for being one of them.
Wouldn’t have it any other way! :)
Thank you so much for this! I think those of us who deal with disordered eating will always have to "monitor" the triggers that initiated the condition. Learning to love exactly who we are right now and not the idealised version of ourselves that may have been imposed on us for various reasons. I'm not anal about it but I'm certainly now able to acknowledge what could make me lean towards a, fortunately, only abbreviated version of it. I can quickly rectify the thought patterns and internal criticism that may start what I call a "flare". Hasn't happened in a very long time, thank goodness. I appreciate you very much.
Thank you for sharing this year. I think recognizing our patterns and vulnerabilities and triggers are so important. I have found that each time I've had a relapse I haven't dipped quite so low or struggled quite so hard to get back to where I needed to be. Each return to self gets a little bit easier, but accepting that it is a vulnerability has been very important for me.
Looking the part
is a start
Filling the shoes quite another
From first step of the journey
The goal moves forward
As the path unfolds
Get back on the horse
The process unwinds
Then rewinds
And on it goes
That’s why we call it
A practice
Is the point of an eternal journey
This is spot on. It is an eternal journey indeed, but accepting that feels like its own kind of success.
Thank you for sharing this with me. It is a shockingly common story. And you're right, the hardest part is admitting it to yourself. For me it really took writing it down, that was the first place I found I really couldn't lie.