“Sara, you’re beautiful, sweet, driven, and have everything going for you. Why would you feel this way?”

I remember a loved one asking me this question after I disclosed crippling anxiety and an overwhelming flood of negative thoughts in my earlier twenties.

 “I would rather have cancer or have broken every bone in my body than have an eating disorder. I would understand why I would be in pain. It would easily make sense to everyone else around me. There would not be silent suffering with something I didn’t even understand.”

I remember saying these exact words to a friend in my first year of graduate school right before my world changed. Right before I chose to start the real work from within that would get me to the place I am in today.

When I was 13 years old, I was diagnosed with Anorexia Nervosa. In 7^th grade I admitted to a residential treatment facility for the treatment of eating disorders. Due to insurance cutting out after several weeks, I came home with a little more weight on me. Mentally, emotionally, still as ill as ever. The years following that departure home, was somewhat of a blurry roller-coaster. What I do remember clearly, was this: I figured if I could keep my weight at a “healthy” weight, while having it altogether on the outside, I could continue doing the things that were important to me at the time- cheerleading, beauty pageants, graduating high school, going to Ole Miss, get into a sorority, and make good grades.

So I did just that. What I didn’t realize then, was that I was fooling everyone around me, including myself. On the inside I was dying. Consumed with painful thoughts, secret harmful behaviors, no sense of self, no opinions of my own, inability to love, hid in the gym while my friends had late night pizza, & the list could go on. I didn’t know at the time, how much of life I was missing out on. My eating disorder, anxiety, and perfectionism were in the driver’s seat every day and they called the shots.

At age 23 years old, I made a brave step forward and confided in a trusted individual, who I am convinced saved my life to this day (more about that later). I slowly but surely started to receive help and committed wholeheartedly to healing and recovery. It took me 10 years to make that step for myself, but it taught me that it is never too late to start. The recovery process is painful, imperfect, uncomfortable, and long. AND every single bit of it is worth it. It’s given me freedom, purpose, connection, love, self-discovery, and a life worth living.

Now, at 31 years old I understand why I felt the way I did in my early twenties. I convinced myself and everyone else that because I “physically” looked fine, that I was fine. But that was the furthest from the truth. I wasn’t fine on the inside. Physical restoration is only ONE component of eating disorder recovery.  In fact, in my case it may have been the easiest compared to the psychological and psychiatric work that was necessary for healing and true recovery.

My eating disorder and recovery has impacted my life in such a profound way. This personal experience has driven so much of my passion that is embedded within me for the work I do now. I want to shout from the rooftops what eating disorders are and are not; how to treat; how to support and what is required for true healing from the inside out.