Ten years ago, I never imagined I’d be writing about recovery. Back then, food felt like a battlefield and my own body felt like the enemy. Today, I’m living a life that once felt impossible, and I want to share what helped me get here.

For years, my eating disorder was the loudest voice in my life. Now, I’m learning to hear myself again. This is the story of how that slowly changed.

I’m not writing this as someone who ‘has it all figured out,’ but as someone who finally believes recovery is worth it.

My eating disorder began when I started secondary school. The transition from primary school was much harder than I expected. I had always been naturally confident, happy, relaxed, and able to enjoy life. Suddenly everything felt unfamiliar, the routine, the new faces, the lessons, the pressure. I began comparing myself to the people around me and noticing my body in a way I never had before. I felt insecure and longed for approval, desperate to fit in.

It started with a small voice telling me I needed to be ‘better’, more disciplined, more perfect, more in control. At first it felt harmless, even praised. But slowly it took over my thoughts, my confidence, and my life. Focusing on it gave me something to cling to when everything else felt overwhelming, a distraction from the discomfort and anxiety of starting a busy new school.

My recovery didn’t happen all at once. I spent time in hospital away from my family, and although it gave me the support I desperately needed, coming home was harder than I expected. Without the structure and constant care, I slipped back into old patterns. I relapsed more than once, especially during times when I felt rejected or when I compared myself to others. Each time, I felt like I had failed.

But what I didn’t realise then is that relapse is part of recovery for so many people.

Every setback taught me something, about what I needed, what triggered me, and what truly mattered to me. Slowly, I began to build strength, even when it didn’t look like progress.

Even in my early twenties, I convinced myself I was ‘fine,’ but deep down I knew I was still struggling. I was holding onto control in quieter ways and wasn’t ready to admit it to myself. On the outside it looked like I was doing better, but inside I was still stuck in the same mindset of trying to reach perfection and easily influenced by social media standards.

The real change only started in the past year. Something softened in me. I became more relaxed around food and began reconnecting with my body in a kinder way. I started to feel more like myself again. The Emily who loved food ever since a young age. Instead of constantly trying to change how I looked, I began embracing my natural features and appreciating who I already was. It was a slow process, but I realised I was enough.

Setting up my wellness page on Instagram became a huge turning point. Sharing the meals I created of foods that nourished me and helped me rebuild a positive relationship with eating. It connected me with people who understood, and it reminded me that food can be joy, creativity, comfort, and connection.

Studying nutrition also changed my perspective. I learned that food isn’t the enemy, it’s fuel, its memories, it’s moments with people I care about. I’ve become more in tune with what my body needs. Exercise is now something I do gently and with enjoyment, not punishment. For the first time, I feel like my body and I are on the same team.

These days, my relationship with food feels completely different. I no longer see it as something that controls how I look. Instead, I think about what it does for my body and how it helps me feel energised, strong, focused, and alive. Food has become something I enjoy and appreciate, not something I fear. Its moments shared with people I love, creativity in the kitchen, and nourishment that allows me to live the life I want.

If you’re reading this and you feel stuck, please know that nothing is wrong with you.

Recovery isn’t linear, and it doesn’t have to happen quickly to be real. You deserve to feel nourished, supported, and at peace with yourself. Food is not the enemy; it’s a gift that allows you to experience life. Your body is not something to fight against, but something to care for. Freedom is possible, even if it feels far away right now.