My body was clearly unhealthy and out of balance, but my mindset toward my body was even more out of whack. Finding health meant gaining a balanced perspective toward nutrition, exercise, rest, and my body in general. It meant creating habits in my life that actually put these new perspectives into practice.

When it comes to food, I learned to apply the principles of intuitive eating. An approach to eating that teaches us to become the expert of our own body, I learned how to get in touch with my inner hunger and fullness cues. In other words, I learned to eat when I am hungry and stop when I am full (rather than eating according to the rules of the latest fad diet). This may sound simple, but for someone who was struggling with anorexia and bulimia, this seemed impossible at first. And, in the beginning, it would have been. So I actually began my journey to healthy eating with a food plan prepared by a registered dietitian who specialized in eating disorders. With her help over a period of several years, I eventually tossed the structure of the food plan away and embraced the no rules approach to eating. I stopped dividing food into “good” and “bad” categories, realizing that food is just food and does not have a moral value. At restaurants, I stopped saying things like, “I am going to be bad today,” when referring to eating cheesecake. Stealing cheesecake is bad. Eating it is not!

After I had some success with eating healthy, I began to incorporate moderate exercise into my life — with my entire treatment team of a therapist, dietitian, and doctors behind me. Rather than thinking about the calorie burning effect of exercise, I focused on feeling energized and on having fun. I began to participate in movement that I enjoy, so that I would actually look forward to doing it. I do not like to run, so I did not force myself to run. I do like to be outdoors and to be with people, so I started taking short hikes in a local park with a friend.

I could finally understand why my body needed food and exercise, but needing sleep was a different story. It did not seem very smart to me to spend eight hours a day in a state of near-total unconsciousness. My workaholic side said that sleeping would make me weak and unproductive. I felt guilty for sleeping, so I avoided it. Ironically, this lack of sleep is actually what made me weak and unproductive. It also made me irritable and angry. Throughout my personal growth work, I have learned that missing out on a good night’s sleep seriously affects — in a negative way — what happens when I am awake.

If I am taking care of my body by eating, exercising, and sleeping right, it is going to be the size and shape that it is genetically supposed to be. In the beginning, I did not like that size and shape at all. Over time, with the help of my Higher Power, I began to appreciate my body for what it does rather than for what it looks like. When I was at the height of my eating disorder, I did not even have the strength to do one sit up. Now my arms can propel me up a frozen waterfall while ice climbing in Alaska, and my legs can pedal my mountain bike through rugged trails in Tennessee. As a woman, my body is ingenious enough to nourish and to carry a child. This gratitude for what my body does ultimately led to my accepting my body. Today, I can honestly say that I not only accept my body, but I love it.

If I don’t eat, exercise, and sleep right, I don’t think right. When I am not thinking right, my eating, exercising, and sleeping habits are not right. So maintaining a healthy body is a priority in my life today. My body and me are no longer at war. We have called a truce, and we trust each other.

Do you have a war going on at home? Maybe it is time to make peace with your body. After all, like me and mine, you two will be together for a long time.

“Free,” I answered.

Kelly is a young woman struggling with an eating disorder. She was talking with me, because I am recovered from anorexia and bulimia. I have been there.

“Free” means a lot more than simply freedom from destructive behaviors with food. It means much more than just a life without bingeing, purging, and starving. That kind of a life is really not free at all.

“Free” also means independence from the unrelenting obsessions related to food and body image. It is a release from fear’s daily control. It means freedom to live life to its fullest.

Recovery encompasses every facet of life. When someone truly recovers from an eating disorder or any addiction, they get much more that just “not bingeing,” “not drinking,” or “not using.”

When I first began therapy for my eating disorder, I thought that my ultimate goal was to stop acting out with the negative behaviors surrounding food. I believed that my life would be magically transformed into something wonderful if I could just eat right. After years of hard work in recovery — and lots of stumbling — I did finally begin to “eat right.” I could not have been more wrong about eating right.

I should say that we could not have been more wrong. Other people in my life thought that I was better when I began eating better. They said that I looked “healthy,” and they were proud of me. I received lots of pats on the back, and ironically, I felt more destructive than ever. I looked healthy on the outside, but I was dying on the inside.

I had stopped using food, but not much else had changed in my life. In fact, without my eating disorder as a coping mechanism, I felt more lost and crazier than ever. I even started thinking about engaging in other addictive behaviors — ones that had never crossed my mind before.

I asked myself, “If I can’t turn to food anymore, then what can I turn to?”

Switching addictions is not better. I almost switched. Thinking about food all of the time is not better. I thought about food twenty-four hours a day. Feeling constant despair, anger, and anxiety is not better. I felt all of these things. I was not better.

I could have easily been compared to a dry drunk. I had heard in Twelve Step meetings that a dry drunk is someone who has stopped drinking, but who still demonstrates the same alcoholic behaviors and attitudes. I was still engaging in the same thought processes of my eating disorder. Similar to the dry drunk state, these thought patterns eventually led to relapses back into eating disordered behaviors — even more intensive and harmful. Although these behaviors seemed worse than ever, they no longer produced the same soothing, calming effect as previously.

I began to think, “Why did I fight so hard for this?”

Then I realized that I needed to keep fighting. My journey was not over. I had worked hard and learned a lot, but I needed to keep working. I needed to wrestle with my inner demons. I needed to connect with my higher power. Because recovery is not only physical, but it is also emotional, mental, and spiritual. It is about functioning in society and quality of life.

So I dove headfirst into therapy. I explored my spirituality. And I learned coping skills that helped me deal with life on life’s terms in healthy ways. I practiced experiencing my emotions (instead of stuffing or starving them) and realized that feelings do pass in time. I combined self-compassion with genuine self-care to discover self-acceptance. I fell down lots on my journey to this acceptance, but I trusted my support team of friends, family members, and professionals to help me get back up each time. I trusted myself.

Recovery is about uncovering passions and learning to have fun. It is being able to sit still and live in one’s body. Recovery is about seeking balance, having a voice, and letting go of perfection. It is letting go of the fear of judgment from others. And it is much more.

Recovery is more than a standardized textbook definition or some insurance company’s criteria. It encompasses all areas of life and is personal to each individual.

Kelly asked me how I would define recovery in one word.

“Free,” I answered.

I am free.

My body was clearly unhealthy and out of balance, but my mindset toward my body was even more out of whack. Finding health meant gaining a balanced perspective toward nutrition, exercise, rest, and my body in general. It meant creating habits in my life that actually put these new perspectives into practice.

When it comes to food, I learned to apply the principles of intuitive eating. An approach to eating that teaches us to become the expert of our own body, I learned how to get in touch with my inner hunger and fullness cues. In other words, I learned to eat when I am hungry and stop when I am full (rather than eating according to the rules of the latest fad diet). This may sound simple, but for someone who was struggling with anorexia and bulimia, this seemed impossible at first. And, in the beginning, it would have been. So I actually began my journey to healthy eating with a food plan prepared by a registered dietitian who specialized in eating disorders. With her help over a period of several years, I eventually tossed the structure of the food plan away and embraced the no rules approach to eating. I stopped dividing food into “good” and “bad” categories, realizing that food is just food and does not have a moral value. At restaurants, I stopped saying things like, “I am going to be bad today,” when referring to eating cheesecake. Stealing cheesecake is bad. Eating it is not!

After I had some success with eating healthy, I began to incorporate moderate exercise into my life — with my entire treatment team of a therapist, dietitian, and doctors behind me. Rather than thinking about the calorie burning effect of exercise, I focused on feeling energized and on having fun. I began to participate in movement that I enjoy, so that I would actually look forward to doing it. I do not like to run, so I did not force myself to run. I do like to be outdoors and to be with people, so I started taking short hikes in a local park with a friend.

I could finally understand why my body needed food and exercise, but needing sleep was a different story. It did not seem very smart to me to spend eight hours a day in a state of near-total unconsciousness. My workaholic side said that sleeping would make me weak and unproductive. I felt guilty for sleeping, so I avoided it. Ironically, this lack of sleep is actually what made me weak and unproductive. It also made me irritable and angry. Throughout my personal growth work, I have learned that missing out on a good night’s sleep seriously affects — in a negative way — what happens when I am awake.

If I am taking care of my body by eating, exercising, and sleeping right, it is going to be the size and shape that it is genetically supposed to be. In the beginning, I did not like that size and shape at all. Over time, with the help of my Higher Power, I began to appreciate my body for what it does rather than for what it looks like. When I was at the height of my eating disorder, I did not even have the strength to do one sit up. Now my arms can propel me up a frozen waterfall while ice climbing in Alaska, and my legs can pedal my mountain bike through rugged trails in Tennessee. As a woman, my body is ingenious enough to nourish and to carry a child. This gratitude for what my body does ultimately led to my accepting my body. Today, I can honestly say that I not only accept my body, but I love it.

If I don’t eat, exercise, and sleep right, I don’t think right. When I am not thinking right, my eating, exercising, and sleeping habits are not right. So maintaining a healthy body is a priority in my life today. My body and me are no longer at war. We have called a truce, and we trust each other.

Do you have a war going on at home? Maybe it is time to make peace with your body. After all, like me and mine, you two will be together for a long time.