- Coming together for food has always been an essential part of my family’s holiday celebrations.
- In my 20s, an eating disorder took away the joy of gathering with family and friends.
- Now, my family gatherings – and the food at them – are once again enjoyable.
Food is an essential part of holiday traditions for most families—especially mine. “Some eat to live, but we live to eat,” my grandfather always said. Every year, I looked forward to the towering spread at Thanksgiving and the countless decadent desserts on display at Christmas. It was great – until I developed an eating disorder at 21.
How it started
I spent my last semester of college interning in Los Angeles—about two months into a devastating and blinding breakup with my boyfriend, my mom began to miss our East Coast home. I felt like I had lost control of the wheel. The one thing in my life I could control? What I ate.
It started with a food journal. I carried it everywhere, marking everything I put in my mouth. Even a couple of grapes or a small handful of granola had to be tracked down and recorded. Then I started following some food blogs and reading those oh-so-addictive “what do I eat in a day” posts. I know now that those bloggers’ meals weren’t giving me enough calories, but at the time they were something I looked to for inspiration.
The false sense of control I gained from tracking calories and counting almonds was intoxicating – and my habits gradually grew. Soon I had to measure every tablespoon of peanut butter I slathered on a sandwich or oil I drizzled on a salad. It became impossible to enjoy a meal out with friends because I knew I would be awake later that night, filled with anxiety about not knowing exactly what I had consumed.
It’s funny. At the time, I felt so in control when in reality, the disorder was starting to control me. He had the final say on where, what and how much I could eat, and the joy I could derive from enjoying food with loved ones.
Needless to say, when the holidays rolled around that year, the emphasis on food no longer felt like a benefit. Instead, it was painful. In the days leading up to Thanksgiving, I spent hours plotting how I could trick my family into thinking I was feasting with them by hiding the food in a napkin. And then I spent countless sleepless nights after Christmas simultaneously feeling ashamed of my choices and wracked with regret that I hadn’t allowed myself to indulge in my favorite sweets.
This photo was taken in December 2011, a month before I was diagnosed with an eating disorder. Before meeting my friend for drinks, I remember eating dinner at home because I felt “safer”. Rebecca Strong
A turning point
This December marks 13 years since I hit bottom. And from that perspective, it’s hard to believe that my eating disorder almost ruined all of my favorite vacations for me. Although my mother and other family members had encouraged me to seek help, only I could make that decision for myself and do the work needed to recover. When I realized that my eating disorder was hurting my social life, my dating life, and my ability to travel, while keeping me from achieving my career goals and taking all the joy out of fun holiday occasions, I decided to get help. professional.
It took me extensive therapy to get here—unraveling the fears and feelings at the root of my disordered thoughts and habits—but I finally achieved what I consider to be full recovery from my eating disorder. at the age of 23. I feel very lucky to have worked with Dr. Jennifer Thomas, a psychologist who has since become co-director of the Eating Disorders Clinical and Research Program at Massachusetts General Hospital. During our weekly sessions, she gave me challenges to try at home that I often felt uncomfortable with – eating at different times than my usual schedule, incorporating “fear foods” back into my routine one at a time, and offered support priceless as I dug in despair. for the control that was fueling my eating disorder.
Here I am in the fall of 2024, enjoying a meal out – something that would have been unthinkable before recovery. Rebecca Strong
Now, I make a choice to be healthy every day
Since then, I have given several talks at my local chapter of the National Eating Disorders Association to offer hope to people on their recovery journey. During these talks, I aim to give people a realistic idea of ​​what life looks like after recovery. In setting these expectations, I’ve told them, “It’s not like your disorder goes away. It’s much easier to suppress that toxic internal dialogue.”
Mindfulness has played a key role in my recovery—and how I cope at food-focused parties and other occasions. For so many years, I ignored what my body was trying to tell me. It got to the point where I no longer noticed hunger cues or cravings. Practicing mindfulness has helped me tune back into those cues so that when disordered thoughts arise, I can check in and make decisions based on my body. CURRENT needs.
When I observe the family-style Thanksgiving feast, my mind is sometimes quick to whisper, “You should fill up on carrots, not mashed potatoes,” or “You’ve already had the sugar-laden cranberry sauce, you should skip the pie.” “. The difference now is that it’s become easier to let go of that voice, like an old con, whose advice and opinions I just don’t value anymore. And every time I choose to ignore it, it gets a little quieter. Nowadays, I often arrive at the end of a party, realizing that I didn’t listen to the useless input of my eating disorder at all.
Research shows that only about 21% of people fully recover from an eating disorder. I’m so thankful to consider myself in that minority, because with the holidays fast approaching again this year, I’m not worried about how I’m going to “get by” depriving myself of all the foods that bring me joy and pleasure. I am much more focused on how grateful I am to have access to these foods – something that so many Americans lack.
My memories of those vacations during the height of my disorder feel so hazy, like a photograph that has faded beyond perception. This year, instead of being distracted by my anxious thoughts, I’m focusing on being present with my family and friends. I want to remember every conversation – and every bite.