'This is how I went from having an eating disorder to being a nutritionist’

As one of six kids in a bustling, busy family, bulimia was easy to "get away with." It all started when I was 17, a senior in high school. I danced ballet most evenings and didn't want to eat a big meal beforehand. At 9 p.m., when I finally stumbled back in the door after high school and dance classes, I was ravenous. I'd eat so much that I'd feel guilty. That's when the binge/purge cycle began.

My parents were so preoccupied by my five younger siblings that they never even suspected anything was off when I'd spend longer than usual in the bathroom each night after dinner. To be honest, I didn't know how to feed my dancer's body well, and the stresses of adolescence were overwhelming, so the perfection-fueled eating disorder sort of took on a life of its own.

Eventually, one of my teachers told my counselor that I'd nearly passed out from exhaustion in class, and that counselor convinced me to tell my parents. Tired, lonely and scared, I did just that. My mom and dad then sent me to weekly therapy sessions. I don't remember a whole lot about our visits, just that I really didn't like going. Since we both knew I wasn't getting much out of the one-on-ones, she suggested I start attending a support group for young women with eating disorders instead.

One day during the group, I let my mind wander. I looked around and saw young women who had been in and out of treatment centers. Their lives revolved around their eating disorder, food, and weight. I was so determined to go to college the following year and to not end up like these other young women. That moment really was a turning point in my recovery. "Enough is enough. I'm going to get better," I vowed to myself.

Before I left for college, exhausted and scared for my health, I was able to pump the breaks and stop purging, but continued to battle my binge-eating demons. "Balance" felt like something I'd never taste again. I constantly felt like I was at war with food and my body.

Healing Through Knowledge

The next year, I began college and decided to study nutrition and psychology, while continuing to work on my recovery. I wished I'd had a nutritionist tell me during high school that, as a dancer, I needed to eat more and why. So I decided to help other people learn how to feed their bodies well.

While some might consider it counterproductive to focus even more on food, I think my studies actually helped me to heal. I began to understand how my body and my mind worked—and how my quest for perfection and control could have fueled my eating disorder in the first place. I learned about balanced eating and realized that I need to eat a lot more to power my body than I had thought. Academic work took precedence, but I kept dancing in a company, too.

I ultimately struggled to come to peace with food until about my junior year, as I began to master more intuitive eating. At the same time, I continued to work on my self-care and self-understanding. (Heck, I continue that work today.)

Twenty years ago, I began my career as a nutrition therapist, treating those struggling with disordered eating. For the first 15 years of my practice, I never mentioned my own recovery. I don't think I was ready to disclose that—or had the skills to deal with the questions that might come from clients about it.

Over the last five years or so, I've been more "public" about my own recovery. It started when I launched a website and started my blog, A Nourishing Word. I don't talk about my recovery in sessions with clients unless someone asks a direct question. I'm careful about keeping the focus on my clients' work. But I have had lots of feedback that my story has been helpful to many of my clients and readers. My hope is that sharing my experience cuts down on shame and stigma and gives hope about full recovery.

What Ive Learned

Today, I consider myself fully recovered. That doesn't mean that I'm not human and never find myself eating mindlessly or never go through periods when I feel negatively about myself. I have the ups and downs that every human experiences. The difference is that I don't use food, either withholding it or overeating it, to deal with the many stresses of life. I'm in touch with my feelings—and when I'm not, I continue to work on tuning in to my feelings and focus on treating my body and myself with kindness.

I'm also a mom to two daughters on the verge of adolescence. While I ask them to listen to their bodies and eat when they're hungry (and stop when they're full), our kitchen has no restrictions. I truly believe that rules set up foods to be more powerful than they are. At the same time, I try to model nutritious eating and offer a wide variety of healthful foods.

The most important thing that I learned from my eating disorder and recovery is that life is so much more rich when we allow ourselves to live it fully. I can't read a crystal ball and know what the future might bring. But if I stop trying to be "in control" and live a life that feels true to who I am at the core, then life just flows. The ups and downs are there, but they are tolerable—and part of being human.

It often seems like a fairly large number of dietitians have some sort of history with eating disorders. My hope is that if dietitians still find themselves struggling with their relationship with food, they ask for help, too. I believe shame gets in the way. It's as if dietitians are supposed to have it all together when it comes to food and eating. That's ridiculous. We can only help others if we are taking care of ourselves.

If you or someone you love needs help with eating disorder recovery, contact an Academy of Nutrition and Dietetics professional with a behavioral health nutrition focus your area.