Lessons From Recovery

Letting go of what has previously defined you is a risky but rewarding business. (Plus, an exciting announcement)

I’ve written before about my struggles with an eating disorder, and it remains the most viewed post in the last three years of Substacking here. I think regardless of whether you have any kind of diagnosis, honest reviews of mental illness are somewhat captivating, and many people find themselves relating to it.

The eating disorder that dominated my life for years is no longer top of mind for me, nor is my recovery from it, which feels like growth. I don’t think too much about it anymore, beyond making sure I’m listening to my body and not depriving myself. Guess that means I’m sort of more or less recovered, now?

I’d like to think so.

The most significant change is that I no longer attach myself to the diagnosis or what it means. Anorexia, and my subsequent recovery, has stopped defining me or the story of my life: it’s a part of the past that occasionally comes up in the present, but it doesn’t stay. There is life beyond mental illness and recovering from mental illness. That said, I’ve been contemplating what I’ve really learned from my recovery, and how the wisdom I’ve picked up might translate across many experiences, as well. “What is most personal is most universal,” as Carl Rogers said, and I have seen this to be true over and over again.

So, then: what are some of the lessons from my recovery from anorexia?

I’ve definitely learned that struggling with mental illness does not make you a better person. (Sometimes mental illness makes you a worse person; it made me horribly unpleasant.) But, facing your mental illness does make you more self-aware and encourage you toward self-reflection and intentional change, and those things often do make you a better person. I would never say I’m grateful to have had this disease, but I am grateful for my recovery from it. That has taught me how to be strong, soft, gentle, thick-skinned. These qualities, in the right doses and places, are a script for human resilience: it’s not about always being soft, or always being tough and thick-skinned, but about learning when each is needed.

I’ve also learned that there comes a time when you realize that the story that defines you is actually limiting you. Even if it’s a positive story of recovery or overcoming challenge, if you’re attached to it as being “your story,” you will limit your ability to grow in new ways. Clinging to a defining experience means you aren’t letting much else in; you’re preventing your life from being changed by new things.

When that times comes and you feel like telling your “story” is starting to feel limiting rather than liberating, pay attention to that feeling. It means you’re ready to let go in an even bigger way. You don’t need to be defined by a mental illness, or a traumatic event, or any other significant situation your life has been structured around for so long. Empowerment comes when you’re able to let go of attachment to the thing. It’s terrifying to let go of a thing that has been so meaningful to your life for so long. Who are you without it?

That question, who I am without anorexia, is one I’m still figuring out. It’s scary, to let go of it. But I’m ready.

The details of my story with anorexia and my recovery have become less important and relevant to my life, now. I’ve lived that story, and told it in many different ways until it doesn’t have the same kind of hold over me anymore. Maybe this just means I’m moving on from it in a more significant way. And, it feels like my choice to move on. I’m choosing to let the past lie where it is; I’m choosing to not center that story in my current life. That’s what feels empowering.

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The central theme of much of the other wisdom I’ve picked up over the course of my recovery really boils down to this: lighten up and chill out.

Mental illness or any kind of tragedy can feel so serious and heavy and intense. And it usually is. Lightening up on yourself wherever you can is so important; finding places to relax your brain and let go a little more is essential for getting through it. You can chill out. You can lighten the hell up about something.

For anyone who needs it: this is your permission to lighten up a little.

I am grateful for how recovery from mental illness has shaped me and my current life, but I doubt I’ll be writing much more about it. That feels healthy. I’m ready to let it go a little more, move on from letting that story continue to define who I am. Who I am without it is a story I’m more interested in.

Maggie

ANNOUNCEMENT: Ask Maggie

I’m excited to announce that I am opening an anonymous advice form for anyone to (anonymously) send questions in to me, Maggie, therapist-in-training and lover of contemplating good questions. How often I answer them will depend on how many I receive, so share widely with any advice seekers out there. I’ll announce this again later this week.

Link to anonymous google form HERE.