my ugliest eating disorder thoughts — and what they actually meant | recovered-ish with chloe cox

Episode Description

Last week's episode sparked a lot of conversation online. I posted a clip about eating disorder recovery in the ozempic era and the comments absolutely exploded — and it got me thinking about something I've been wanting to talk about for a while.

The thoughts I had in my eating disorder that I'm not proud of. The ones that would probably get me canceled if I posted them without context. The ones that felt so real at the time and are so clearly the disorder talking when I look back now.

In this episode I'm unpacking each of those thoughts, where they actually came from, and what they say about the disorder — not about who I am or who you are. If you've had thoughts in your eating disorder that have made you feel like a bad person, this episode is directly for you.

In This Episode:

• Why I posted about my ugliest ED thoughts on Instagram — and why the response floored me
• The core reframe: eating disorders are not personality traits
• How eating disorders distort your value system to make harmful behaviors feel moral and right
• Each of the ugly thoughts I had — unpacked honestly and without shame
• Feeling superior when eating less than others at the table — and what was really going on
• Feeling threatened when someone else's body changed — and the identity piece underneath it
• Believing hunger meant I was doing something right — and what that was really about
• Believing my body said something about my character — and the identity crisis driving it
• Thinking my therapist and dietician were jealous of me — and why the eating disorder needs you to believe that
• Not wanting a normal body — and why "just eat normally" was never going to land
• Thinking enjoying food made me weak — and the fear underneath it
• The darkest thought — and why it was depression talking, not who I was
• Why your eating disorder thoughts are not your identity — and what they actually are

Timestamps:

0:00 Intro 1:00 What happened when I posted about the ozempic episode — and what it inspired 4:00 The core frame: eating disorders are not personality traits 6:00 How eating disorders distort your value system 8:00 Ugly thought #1: feeling superior when eating less than others 13:00 What self-control actually is — and what the eating disorder gets wrong about it 14:00 Ugly thought #2: feeling threatened when someone else's body changed 17:00 The identity and scarcity piece underneath that thought 18:00 Ugly thought #3: believing hunger meant I was doing something right 21:00 Interoception — and how the eating disorder distorts your body's cues 22:00 Ugly thought #4: believing my body said something about my character 26:00 Not knowing who I was — and trying to manufacture identity through my body 28:00 Ugly thought #5: thinking my therapist and dietician were jealous of me 30:00 Why the eating disorder needs you to believe everyone trying to help has an ulterior motive 32:00 Ugly thought #6: not wanting a normal body 35:00 Why "just eat normally" was never going to be comforting 37:00 Ugly thought #7: thinking enjoying food made me weak 40:00 Ugly thought #8: believing body change would be worse than not existing 43:00 Why that thought is depression — not character 45:00 You are not your eating disorder thoughts 47:00 Closing thoughts

Quotes from This Episode:

"The thing about self-control is you have to be in control of it. When you have an eating disorder, you're not in control of your self-control. That tyrant living in my brain was in control of it."

"I was not actually better than anyone at the table. I was just the most afraid at the table."

"The real problem was I did not know who I was — so I was trying to manufacture identity based on my body."

"You are the one hearing the thoughts. You are not the thoughts."<

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Transcript

SPEAKER_00 0:00

People would tell me, just eat normally, you will be okay, it's normal and okay to have that food. No, that was not comforting to me at all because I did not want to be normal and okay. I wanted to be extreme, intense, exceptional. But the thing about self-control is you have to be in control of it. When you have an eating disorder, you're not in control of your self-control. That tyrant living in my brain was in control of it. The real problem was I did not know who I was. So I was trying to manufacture identity and an idealized identity based on my body of this person I wanted to be, but actually wasn't. You're listening to the Recovered-Isch podcast. I'm your host, Chloe Cox. And yeah, I know a thing or two about eating disorder recovery. Between my own very complicated history with disordered eating and the work I do now, I've seen this thing from pretty much every angle. This podcast is where we talk about the messier parts of recovery that don't really make it online. No platitudes, no inspirational quotes, just the real, raw, sometimes frustrating, sometimes surprisingly liberating process of building a life beyond your eating disorder. Let's get into it. Hello, welcome back to the Recovered Ish Podcast. I'm your host, Chloe Cox. Thank you for being here. I am feeling excited about the episode today. It was pretty spontaneous, what it was inspired by. Last week, which for you is two weeks ago now, on the podcast, we covered something that I didn't realize was going to be so controversial. I guess in hindsight, I probably should have realized this since it's such a hot button issue in our culture right now. But we talked about eating disorder recovery in the context of this weight loss medication era. I posted a short reel just with a clip of the podcast on my Instagram, and whoa did the comments ever explode. I actually had to stop looking at them because there were so many different opinions, and to be honest, it like kind of started stressing me out pretty bad. One thing that is true about me is it is really hard for me when I am misunderstood, especially in the context of talking about eating disorders and recovery. I really take a lot of time and care in curating my words and trying to say exactly what it is that I mean. I'm not always perfect at it, but I do try to anticipate and think about how is this going to land with somebody that's struggling right now? How is this going to land wherever a person might be on their journey? I guess the message that someone with an eating disorder, it could be dangerous for them to be on weight loss medications, that was something that some people on the internet really disagreed with. I do my best to not hurt people. And I hate when I feel that I've hurt someone, as someone who's really sensitive and empathetic, that crushes me to the ground. But I then started to realize, okay, this might be a people pleaser reaction coming up in me, that I'm having a hard time when people disagree or have contentious opinions about something that I've said. I had to really step back and realize that I stand behind what I said there. In that short clip, I didn't acknowledge my thin privilege, which is something that I have done on the show before, but I realized that that's a place where I could have improved. And I was like, okay, check. But then I was like, okay, the whole reason I'm posting here on Instagram is to be honest about the experience of what it is like to have an eating disorder and to destigmatize that. And sometimes people are going to disagree with that or make snap judgments. And I realized a lot of the thoughts that I had in my eating disorder, if I was judging myself based on those thoughts, I would have thought I was a really bad person. And it inspired me to create a post this week essentially about the thoughts that I had in my eating disorder that would very likely get me canceled on the internet today. Because there were a lot of them. Thoughts that I'm not proud were mine. But I felt it was important to share it because I realize now in my recovery, and I realize this deeply, those thoughts had nothing to do with me and my character, and everything to do with the fact that I had a mental illness that was manipulating my brain. These are the thoughts that perpetuated the disorder, deepened the disorder, kept me stuck in it. But they're also the thoughts that helped to snap me out when I realized just how counter to my actual character they were, which is why I felt the need to share this post. So many of you commented on that post saying, like, wow, that sounds like you're in my brain. These are thoughts that I've had before. So I thought maybe it's time to talk about those thoughts at length and really disentangle them. So, first of all, we can stop holding on to this shame. And second, so we can parse out what do we do with this now that we know the eating disorder thinks one way. You, who you are, you probably think a different way. How can you take action to align more with who you actually are and less with this eating disorder that's maybe turning you into somebody that you never wanted to be? So, anyways, as somebody that posts on the internet, I am learning the lessons of I'm gonna be misunderstood sometimes, and I have to be okay with that. And I hope that all of you that are listening know that I would never intend to hurt anyone ever, and I'm trying my best always to use my words carefully. And at the same time, some of the thoughts that I had in my eating disorder were incredibly ugly and not who I am at all, but that's why it's a disorder and not my personal character. This is the core frame that I want to present today. Eating disorders are not personality traits. We talked a lot about in the last episode kind of the difference between traits that can lead somebody to an eating disorder and the conditioning that turns those traits into an eating disorder. But an eating disorder itself is not who you are, it's not your personality. Those traits can be transmuted and adapted into the eating disorder, but those personality traits stand alone. The problem with an eating disorder is that it doesn't just change your behaviors, it distorts your value system in order to make those behaviors feel like they're right, like they're good, like they're okay. It doesn't mean that those are the things you truly value, the things that the eating disorder values are not what you truly value, but it distorts your perception in such a way that it feels very much like your values system. Something that's a moral code that's really hard to challenge. So with this distorted value system, we start to use eating disorder behaviors, measurements as objective indicators of our worth and our value when they are not. Something like worth and value and goodness, all those things are so subjective that someone with an eating disorder brain, it's very hard to trust all the time that you are good and okay. But when you have an eating disorder that so clearly black and white outlines good versus bad, it can feel like such an objective moral code that there's safety in it. And that's where we get really stuck when we find something like an eating disorder that feels concrete and objectively safe. It changes the way we think, it changes what we value. And then it's really hard to see beyond that, except for in those glimpses and those moments where we catch ourselves thinking these things and identifying if we were to say this out loud, people would think that we were awful. I want to take each of these thoughts and really unpack them today to show you what's actually going on, what's actually driving these thoughts, so that maybe if you identify with some of these two, you can start to understand that this didn't come from nowhere, and this is also not who you are, and it's not who you have to be. We are not our thoughts. Just because you think something doesn't mean that you believe that thing or that you will take action in the world around that. It reminds me of the line in Guilty as Sin by Taylor Swift that where she says, someone told me there's no such thing as bad thoughts, only your actions talk. And I think in a lot of ways that's true. We can think all sorts of crazy things and they don't have to translate into action or how we uh move through the world and treat other people. That said, the first thought is one that I have mentioned before, but haven't unpacked at length. It's the idea that I would feel superior when I ate less than other people. I had this idea that if I was sitting at a table with a group of people, with my friends, with my family, if I ate the least amount at the table, then I was somehow better than everyone else. If I was able to say, no, thank you, I don't want the cake, or I'm not gonna put butter on my bread or whatever. If I was able to control my portion size more than everyone else at the table, then that meant something about me. And I felt special. Like I could do something that other people can't do. I would have this thought that if I can just eat the least amount, then I know that I'm okay and I know that I'm good. If so-and-so eats more than me, then I can breathe a sigh of relief. I would always compare my plate to what everybody else had. And there was definitely a part of me in those moments that would feel envious that people could sit down and eat their food and just like enjoy it and move on, and I wasn't able to do that. So I think that that's a part of why this thought came on so strong. There had to be some kind of payoff for the torture I was putting myself through. This one is really tied to moralizing deprivation. This idea that self-restraint was an admirable quality that foregoing certain things meant that the degree of control I had over myself was higher than everybody else in the room. And that meant safety, security, power, but it also gave me a sense of I'm good enough in a way that I can measure and control and confirm. When you are at a place with your self-image and your insecurity that's so very low, no amount of telling yourself you're worthy or like looking in the mirror and saying I love you, is gonna convince yourself that you are good. I needed hard facts. I needed something that felt like evidence. And so when I could evidently see that my plate had less food than everybody else's at the table, I felt like that was concrete confirmation that I had a quality that was exceptional. And that felt like I could breathe. When I really sit back and think about this feeling of superiority, that is so icky to me. That I was sitting there telling myself that I was somehow better because I was depriving my body, and that everyone else around me somehow had less self-control. And so I was better than them. That is so not what I believe at all. And it's not even what I believed then. I really admired a few people in my life, my sister's one I bring up all the time, who can listen to their bodies, give their bodies what they need, and move on. It doesn't have anything to do with my sister's inability to control herself that she can have a cupcake after dinner. I know that my sister has amazing self-control. She displays it in so many different areas of her life. But the thing about self-control is you have to be in control of it. When you have an eating disorder, you're not in control of your self-control. That tyrant living in my brain was in control of it. To properly and healthfully engage with self-control, you need to know when to apply it and when to release it. When it comes to giving yourself adequate food, depriving yourself, having the least amount on your plate just to be safe, just to feel better, is not self-control. That's fear. So I was not actually better than anyone at the table. I was just the most afraid at the table. And I needed to tell myself that I was better to justify that behavior. This is one of those places where if I were to say out loud, I'm, I think I have more self-control and more discipline than all of you. I think saying that out loud would have immediately broken the spell because it sounds preposterous and I know that it isn't true. It's very clear that what was going on was I was sitting there in fear, and everyone else was sitting there in comfort. And that was something that I was deeply jealous of. And this idea that I was superior was a direct reaction to that and manipulation by the eating disorder, so that I wouldn't realize that I was being manipulated by my own fear, and I would actually double down on the behavior and deepen it and keep going. That is why it is a mental disorder. Piggybacking on that comparative line of thinking, another one of those hard to admit ugly thoughts was I felt I would feel very threatened when anyone else's body got smaller. And not even smaller than me, though that would send me into a absolute spiral, but just noticing someone's body change, noticing someone lose weight felt. It felt like, oh shoot, are they going to look better than me? It felt like, oh shoot, but I'm the one that's losing weight. But I'm the one that is controlling of my food, but I'm the one that needs to be the smallest person in the room. If that person starts to encroach on my territory, it was so triggering to me. Part of it, I think, was a sense of jealousy, of comparison. It's interesting now that I'm talking about both of those examples of comparative type thoughts that I think both of them were rooted in being envious of what these other people had. When I saw somebody else's body get smaller, especially if they still appeared to have a really healthy relationship with food, I was mad as hell. I was so jealous that somehow they were able to change their body and also maintain a non-disordered relationship with food, to my perception. When I saw someone's body change, I would think almost like a scarcity mindset of no, that's my thing. That's my thing. If they are now stealing my thing, what's gonna make me special? Which again, as I'm talking out loud, it sounds nonsensical, but it really did feel so real then. I think this piece ties so deeply to identity, where I had built my identity around being small and being disciplined. And so if somebody else was getting smaller and also showing discipline, then it was like my identity collapsed. I felt like I was losing what made me special and different. And maybe on some level, even what I thought people might notice and see was a problem when I couldn't say that was a problem, what I thought my shrinking body might save me from. I thought if somebody else is also doing this, then maybe people aren't gonna see that I'm struggling anymore. They're gonna look at that person struggling. What if I don't get saved in the way that I need to be? It was a whole storm of scarcity. What's gonna happen next? Who am I if I'm not special? What am I gonna do? It wasn't about them at all. It was about what I thought I was losing. A space, an identity being seen. I thought that someone else getting smaller would take that away. Okay, let's talk about body cues. Another one of these ugly thoughts was believing that hunger meant I was doing something good. Hunger felt like one of the only cues that my body could give me that was actually reassuring. Fullness felt extremely terrifying, like I'd done something awful and wrong. And hunger felt like I'm doing something right. It was almost like my body was communicating to me, you are deprived. Here is a sign that you are deprived. But in my warped eating disorder brain, deprivation felt more comforting to me than feeling nourished and satisfied. This is because when you have an eating disorder, your brain gets rewired in a problematic way. The idea that fullness causes body change is the most terrifying thought in the world. And the idea that hunger is a good thing really comes from getting feedback that the control you're implementing is keeping you in a zone of safety. Where if I'm if I'm hungry all the time, the idea was my body can't change. Actually, listening to my body at that time would have been probably the scariest thing in the entire world. I no longer trusted my body's cues. Hunger came up and I didn't immediately respond to it as if it meant that I needed food. Hunger came up and I responded to it almost in a panicked way of now I have to figure out how to make this feeling go away without food, which is not right at all. But the way that my brain framed around it was if you are hungry, this is comfort. This is a place to know for sure that you're gonna be all right, that nothing is gonna change, there's certainty, there's safety. But really, what was happening was I had become attached to concrete control and distrusting of anything ambiguous that I didn't know directly what the outcome would be. My interoception got so distorted, and that's just interoception just means essentially interpreting your body's cues. It got so distorted that it took so many years to finally get back to a place of being really intuitive about food. But I thought that hunger meant I was doing something right, I was staying in line, I was disciplined. But actually, that period of time is really only indicative of me being completely disconnected from my body and its cues. Again, this one is so rooted in fear. I was so afraid of anything changing that I needed to be extra safe to make sure that a mistake wouldn't happen. And by a mistake, I mean eating enough food so that I could make sure that nothing, make double sure, triple sure that nothing about my body would change. And hunger felt like a check. You're good, you're fine, and I could breathe again. So much more to do with fear than being stupid or illogical. This was conditioned and wired into my nervous system. There's a stage of eating disorder recovery that almost nobody talks about, and almost nobody has a program for. It's not the acute phase, you're not in crisis, you're not white-knuckling through every meal. By most outside measures, you look like someone who has her life together. You're a mother, probably, you're holding things down, and you have done real hard work to get where you are. But the eating disorder is still there. Quieter now, functional even, but still running a background program in your mind, still shaping how you move through your days, how you feel in your body, and what you reach for when life gets hard. You're recovered enough, but you're not free, and you know the difference. That's Quasi Recovery, and it's where so many women get stranded, especially in midlife and motherhood when there's simply no space, no time, and no permission slip to still be dealing with this. The Quasi-Recovery Exit Program is built specifically for you. It's an eight-week small group coaching program. And when I say small, I mean it. This is not a course, it's not a membership with hundreds of people inside. I'm talking a handful of women. Intentionally, stubbornly, few, because that intimacy is the point, and I protect it. Entry is by application only. Not everyone who applies will be accepted, and that's by design. This isn't a program designed for early recovery or even mid-stage recovery. It's not crisis support, it's precision work for the last layer. The part that's dug in because it's learned to survive alongside your real life. The weekly group sessions, the specialized work between calls, the individualized Thursday coaching rounds with me, all of it is designed to go after that specific thing. And then there's the group itself. I didn't fully anticipate what would happen when I put these women at this exact life stage in a virtual room together. Women who are done pretending they're fine, who don't need to explain themselves, who are walking the same stretch of the road. The cohesion that's emerged in our first group has been truly one of the most powerful things I've witnessed in this work. If you've applied before, even if it wasn't the right fit then, I want you to apply again. Timing matters, readiness shifts. The door is so genuinely open. The application is in the show notes. Very few spots exist, and this is how they feel, but I can't wait to meet you and talk to you inside the quasi-recovery exit. Ooh, this next one is a sticky one. I believed that my body meant something about my character. That the way my body looked meant something about who I was. And I think this is why changing my body in recovery, gaining the weight that my body needed, was so terrifying because I had attached certain morals and values to a physical form. And I was afraid that if, again, fear, I was afraid that if my body changed, then that would mean something different about who I am. I thought if my body changed, that would mean I was not disciplined anymore. I was lazy. I was all over the place. I was chaotic. I was a mess. I was a failure. I was unsuccessful. All of that was tied to my body being small. There was this idea that I needed my body to be a certain way to signify to the world that I actually had it all together, was very successful, took really good care of myself, which is ironic because I was taking the worst care of myself ever possible. But essentially, I wanted to be perfect and enviable. And I thought that my body needed to be a certain way to portray those enviable traits. The real problem was I did not know who I was. So I was trying to manufacture identity and an idealized identity based on my body of this person I wanted to be, but actually wasn't. I have found in my recovery, especially lately, I have tried to fit myself into this box of what I think is good and what I think I should be, and essentially that girl that has it all together. I so badly want to be the type of person that journals every day and has my schedule color-coded and organizes my sock drawer and has a capsule wardrobe. And I've always wanted to be her. I'm not her. I'm someone who has a random piece of my snack next to me, random post-it notes, like three different pens scattered around, office in complete disarray behind the camera, my room is not clean, my kitchen is a mess when I'm done cooking. I am kind of a mess in a lot of ways. I get it done, I do what I need to do, but I'm actually not that girl that I was trying to idealize. And that's fine. That's fine. I'm actually working really hard to accept that version of me and just be who I am. But that was the whole problem with my body meaning something about my character, was I just so badly wanted to be seen this certain way. And I thought a big piece of that puzzle was being as small as I possibly could be and as disciplined as I possibly could be with food. While I am a really disciplined person in some areas, I offset it by being a hot mess in others. And that's fine. But I didn't know who I was, and even if I did deep down, I didn't want to accept her. And that's where I had to latch on to something concrete again, like my body, to feel certain, to feel sure that I was okay, I was good, and that other people would see me that way too. I think this also comes down to kind of wanting to control the way that other people perceive you. I wanted people to see me a certain way. And I wanted to, I wanted to show them who I was instead of telling them who I was from the second that they saw me. So nobody could ever judge me or say that I was a mess. I think some of this is related to the theater industry and how appearance-focused all of that is, and how everything comes down to like a 30-second audition where you have to put your best foot forward very, very quickly. And I tried to do that in every area of my life, but I really felt that my body spoke volumes about who I was, and that people would automatically assume who I was if they saw me in the smallest body possible. This is an identity issue. I did not know who I was. I knew who I wanted to be, but being her was the most toxic thing I possibly could have done because it's not who I am. All those things I was doing at that time in my life are not who I am, not what I ever really wanted. It was just so hard to accept it. And so I pushed and doubled down on this idea of who I was supposed to be and tried harder and harder and harder to be her until I snapped. So believing that my body said something about my character, I think had to do with trying to latch on to anything that I could to figure out who I was or to decide who I was when I really had no idea. Okay. This one makes me kind of laugh because this one, when I say it out loud, is actually so whack that I used to think this. It's like making me laugh a little bit. But I used to think that the people around me that wanted me to stop my eating disorder were just jealous of me. And who I'm thinking of as I say this, I actually thought that my dietitian and therapist were jealous of me. And that's why they didn't want me to be restricting my food, which is so funny. Like, I'm a therapist now and have worked with so many dietitians. And like, no, I adore my clients and I have so much empathy for where they're at. But I know what it's like to have an eating disorder. It's absolutely hell. I am not jealous of that experience. I am very grateful that I've moved through and have found myself in a recovered place. But I had to convince myself of some reason why they were trying to get me to stop, other than the fact that it was really bad for me to be doing this. So I had to tell myself they wish that they had my self-control. They wish that they could have my discipline around food. They are just jealous that I can do X, Y, and Z every day. And they can't. And no, young Chloe, that was so not it. They were just trying to help you because you were destroying your life. But again, these this is one of those manipulation tactics that the eating disorder uses. We cannot. The eating disorder at all costs, all costs, wants you to believe that its way is the right way. What it's telling you is not harmful. It's actually really good. And that anybody that wants you to stop, there's a reason why. They have an ulterior motive. Because it would really shatter everything if I had to acknowledge and let in the fact that I had walked down a dangerous path and done something really harmful to myself. That I had walked down a dangerous path and these things that I was doing that I thought were helping me were actually really harming me. That would be really hard, especially at that point in my eating disorder. It would have been super hard for me to hold that truth and admit that to myself. So instead, the eating disorder makes up these little stories about how other people wish that they could do what you were doing. And sometimes this is complicated by the fact that sometimes people are idiots and say that. I had some woman tell my mom that when my mom had told her that I was struggling with an eating disorder, she was like, I wish I could have a little bit of that. That's so, so wrong to say. And you don't mean it to people. People that actually say that do not mean it because they have no idea what it's like to live in that headspace. But, anyways, the eating disorder has to tell you things like everybody that wants you to stop is jealous of you because if you actually believed that they wanted to help you because you're harming, because the eating disorder is harming you, that would cause you to either spiral about the path that you've gone down, or make you really confronted and work towards recovery. And that's life-threatening to the eating disorder. It's in the eating disorders, it's in the eating disorder's best interest to convince you that it's always right. Okay, this is one that I think hit home for a lot of people. I did not want a normal body. I felt like having a normal body would mean that I was an utter failure. People would tell me, just eat normally, you will be okay. It's normal and okay to have that food. No, that was not comforting to me at all because I did not want to be normal and okay. I wanted to be extreme, intense, exceptional. And so doing what was normal felt like I was gonna be subpar, mediocre, just like everyone else. And a part of the draw of the eating disorder for me was making myself the best that I could possibly be. So feeling like I was working towards having a quote-unquote normal body, whatever the heck that is, felt like I was actively failing. So much of my worth was tied to, as I said in the last episode, this drive to be the best at everything I possibly could be. And my body was no exception, and food was no exception. So it really wasn't comforting to me when people would say, like, it's okay to eat that, it's normal to gain X amount of weight. That felt like a threat to who I was, and it felt like I was giving up. This, of course, is quite warped. I think the whole idea that we need to be exceptional to be worthy is warped in and of itself. That we need to be special or different is warped. I think everyone, of course, has really unique qualities that make them an individual, and that deserves to be celebrated. But there's too much competition woven into our day-to-day culture. This programming of comparison to everyone else and trying to one up and be above, that is so toxic, and I think it's a part of Western culture and really causes us a lot of harm because actually, there is nothing wrong with being quote unquote normal. I remember when I was growing up, I wanted to move to New York and be on Broadway and have this glamorous, exciting life. Flash forward, I'm turning 31 next week, and my life is not flashy or glamorous. I live in the same town that I grew up in so happily. I have a two-year-old son, I have another baby on the way, happily married. We do things like go to swim class and play at the park, and it's so low-key, and it's a dream come true. I do not need my life to be glamorous or exceptional, like I thought that I did. There's so much beauty and value and meaning in the everyday and the people that are around you and connection. That is what is meaningful about being a human and being alive. This idea that I needed to be the best or be exceptional is something that was plopped in my head by society that I didn't choose. The sooner we can all abandon that idea, the better. Because what makes your life worth living is going to be different than what makes another person's life worth living. What you don't need to be happy is to be better than everyone else. Okay, another one that is a little bit tough. I thought that enjoying food made me weak. And again, I think this is one that was rooted in fear. If I enjoyed my food, I was worried that I was going to enjoy it too much. And that then that would cause me to eat more than my eating disorder was comfortable with, and that would cause me to have extreme guilt and shame, and that would cause my body to change, and all of those feared outcomes would come true if I enjoyed my food. The part of it that I thought was weak was that I had this notion that I just needed to eat in a functional way, and enjoying food was not important, and people that ate for enjoyment didn't value their well-being. Again, so ironic because I would not value my well-being clearly because I was not giving my body what it needed. And also just, it's a really sad thought now that I think about it, that I was so afraid of enjoying food when what is the point of being alive if you can't enjoy it a little bit? I really had that realization this weekend that I would just like to breathe a little bit easier and just enjoy moments more, be present with moments. And food is a part of that. There's nothing weak about enjoying a meal, but I had to tell myself that again because I was so afraid that enjoyment would lead to what I thought was overindulgent, which there's nothing wrong with that. And then it just the cascade of thoughts of all the bad things that were going to happen if I enjoyed my food. So much of all of these thoughts is fear, and then an eating disorder manipulating you from breaking away from it. There's nothing weak about enjoying your food. In fact, it's a really beautiful part of being alive, being social, experiencing other cultures. We are meant to enjoy food. Our bodies are wired to enjoy food because food keeps us alive. It's an evolutionary thing. So, speaking back to that old version of me, I I really felt the safest when I was rigid and I felt unsafe when things felt flexible or pleasurable. I felt like that was going to push me beyond what I could control, and that felt really dangerous. The last thought is a heavy one. I often had the idea that if I were to gain weight, if my body were to change, that would be the worst possible thing that could ever happen to me. Worse than no longer existing. And in my darkest moments, that felt so true. This thought is much more linked to depression and panic. I was deeply, deeply sad about a lot of things going on in my life at that time. I was so lonely, I was so isolated. My whole world felt confusing and dark. And I felt like if I could just stay in this body that feels safe to me, then maybe I'll be worthy, maybe I'll be okay, maybe things will get better if I can just achieve this. But if I can't achieve this, I don't want to be here anymore. That is depression, you guys. That's depression and an inability to tolerate change in a nervous system. The panic that would ensue if I ever felt like my body was changing was like truly through the roof. This does not mean that I thought other people that gained weight were bad, that it was actually something awful and life-threatening. This does not mean I judged others for their weight changes. It really just meant I was holding on to this idea of a perfect body that would deliver me into a better life. And if I lost that hope, then my depression was gonna pull me under. That's what that was about. Not that I was a bad person that judges people for gaining weight. Certainly I'm not that. These thoughts come from a space of being not well. This is what it sounds like to have a mental illness. None of these thoughts were who I was. Speaking any of these thoughts out loud would have alerted me to that. I was struggling. I was just struggling. And that's the end of the sentence. Your thoughts are not your identity, your thoughts are not your truth. In this space, your thoughts are more indicative of symptoms of your eating disorder than who you actually are. And even if sometimes you agree with those thoughts, take a beat, peel back a layer, and I know that you will find some pushback from a deeper part of you. If you are listening to this and you have had any of these thoughts, I really want you to know it says nothing about your character, and it says so much more about what you have had to survive through, what mind games that you have had to play on yourself, what intense emotions that you must be feeling through. This is not who you are, it's what you're struggling with. And if you are sitting here acknowledging, uh, that's an icky thought to think, that's all you need to know to know that you're not that person. You are the one hearing the thoughts. You are not the thoughts. And the sooner that you can acknowledge that those thoughts belong to the eating disorder, the sooner you can start to reconnect to what you actually value and make choices according to those values towards your recovery and a life that's more meaningful for you. Okay. I hope I don't get canceled by sharing all of those thoughts. But you know, as I posted on my story earlier this week, my co-star astrology app told me that I should be a little bold. So we're going for it. We are being a little bit bold. I thank you as always for listening. I can't believe we have had so many episodes so far. I know it's almost May, but it feels like this podcast just started. Go back and listen to weeks prior if this one resonated with you. I would be so appreciative of a five-star review on Apple Podcasts or Spotify. Subscribe if you're watching here on YouTube, give it a thumbs up, leave a comment. I love to have discussions with you all after each episode drops. So also feel free to slide into my DMs. I appreciate you all so much. I hope that you feel a little less shameful about any of these eating disorder thoughts that come up for you after today's episode. Eat your food. I will always be eating with you, and we will talk next week. Bye.