'I'm in Eating Disorder Recovery. The Holidays are a Difficult Time'

After nearly a decade of experiencing eating disorders and several years in and out of treatment, you'd think by now I would have figured out how to eat. But these two extremes have just left me feeling confused. And the upcoming holidays' focus on food highlights this confusion even more.

When I was struggling with my eating disorder, food felt both foreign and familiar. I thought about it constantly—jotting down notes about safe snacks I needed to pick up after class, planning my schedule around rushing out to buy dinner I wouldn't keep down.

I had originally hoped treatment, which I started four years ago at the age of 24, would help solve this—it certainly promised to. But the programs often focused on food just as much as my eating disorder did.

My experience of eating disorder treatment

At treatment, I had to face my fears in an unfamiliar place, around other patients who were often crying. Strangers would inspect my plate to ensure no morsel had been left behind. Once, a stranger plucked the protein shake I'd just finished out of the trash to ensure I'd slurped down every last sip. Another time, someone stood over me, staring, as she demanded I scrape up the yogurt residue on the side of the bowl. I did, the spoon shaking in my hand.

And it wasn't just mealtimes where I had to face the food. Every few days, a dietitian would come around with worksheets known as "meal cards," on which I had to list each item of our next few meals in accordance with the strict meal plan set by the dietitian.

Creating these meal cards involved painstakingly checking and re-checking my meal plan, listing out every food group I needed to incorporate and then finding the safest choice available for each. Each meal card brought stress, overwhelm and confusion.

In group therapy, the leaders often said we shouldn't be so focused on the food. But if I was there to heal from my eating disorder, why did I have to spend so much time focusing on exactly what they constantly said I shouldn't worry about?

This discrepancy also showed up in the kitchen, where we had to prepare some of our meals and snacks–and where all labels were covered, so we couldn't check ingredients or calories. Instead of putting the amount that felt right on my plate, I had to adhere to rigid standards set by the dietitians, who would scrutinize my meal before I was allowed to sit down. This process felt humiliating, as I was often sent back to add more to my plate after messing up the portion size.

After spending so much time in treatment, where I had to do this several times a day, I still find myself checking my portion sizes, asking others around me if the amount I've placed on my plate looks like too much. But even when they say no, I'm not always convinced. I know my eating disorder didn't allow me to eat enough, but the portion sizes at treatment usually felt ridiculous. What, exactly, is the right amount?

Why the holidays are difficult for those in eating disorder recovery

The holidays have a way of triggering these confusing thoughts around food. At this time of year, there's always focus on the food—whether people look forward to it or stress over how much is on their plate.

It's not just about the portion size, either. During treatment, I was not allowed to look down on any particular snack or meal, which created confusion for me about what I should eat. At one center, for instance, when I referred to "unhealthy foods," my dietitian interrupted me and said she didn't know what unhealthy meant.

While I understand now that she probably wanted to remove the stigma of certain foods as being seen as "unhealthy" or "junk," this insistence that there is no unhealthy food created confusion—especially for someone already confused about how to eat.

As a result, I'm always left wondering if I've proceeded with meals in the "right" way during the holidays. Should I have selected more vegetables? Is this enough protein? While treatment was supposed to help reduce this constant swirl of questions, it's the place that put these thoughts in my head in the first place—and the holidays' focus on food puts it all in the spotlight.

I personally struggle with eating around others, something that is often unavoidable during the holidays. This makes holiday gatherings especially difficult. Instead of eating by myself and only needing to focus on my own plate, I find myself comparing my food choices with those of others around me, sometimes without even realizing.

In the past, I also struggled with the lack of structure the holidays bring. This time of year usually means a break from school or work, which in the past meant I had spare free time—something an eating disorder will take advantage of. I used to spend the days leading up to the holiday season stressed, wishing I could fast-forward past it.

But since the height of my eating disorder, I've identified ways I can manage my triggers and spend my time in healthy ways, such as hanging out with family or volunteering at the Humane Society.

While I'm in recovery now, my food-related thoughts still linger. I still calculate calories in my head and note certain snacks as "healthy" or "unhealthy," and feel confused about it all. It takes time to unlearn the number of calories in a piece of bread or how many grams of protein I'm supposed to have at each meal, but recovery is a process.

Two years ago, I spent the holiday season in day treatment, completely focused on food. This year, I look forward to freedom. I'm still figuring out what freedom from the eating disorder looks like for me, but it mostly means I get to direct my energy towards what matters to me, like writing or walking my dog. It's about spending time the way I want to—not the way my eating disorder or treatment professionals say I should.

Brooke Metz lives in Atlanta, GA, and works in public relations. She is currently working on a book about the eating disorder treatment industry.

All views expressed in this article are the author's own.