HEART TO HEART: There is Always Hope
By Jenni Schaefer
Reprinted from Eating Disorders Recovery Today
Summer 2009 Volume 7, Number 3
©2009 Gürze Books
I just received that phone call no one wants to answer. My mom was diagnosed with a rare form of cancer, and the surgeon told her that he wasn’t going to sugarcoat anything: the prognosis is poor. But he also said there is always hope. My mom can fully recover.
This reminds me that over ten years ago my parents received a call they never wanted to answer—that their daughter was struggling with a life-threatening illness, an eating disorder. My parents learned that there was nothing they could do to fix what was wrong with me. All they could do was love me, support me, and hold onto hope. Although there were more days than not that I lost hope for myself, they always had it. They knew that I could get better.
To get to this point, I went through many years of intense pain, hard work, and lots of tears. I was “in recovery” for a long time, falling down and getting back up again. Each time I fell, I became stronger—gaining the tools that I would eventually need to reach full freedom. I think I am recovered today, not because I never had setbacks, but because I did have them and learned how to get back up each time. I learned to never give up. I even learned to celebrate each time I stood back up again.
For years, I have been telling people that they can fully recover from their eating disorders. In fact, I wrote my new book, Goodbye Ed, Hello Me: Recover from Your Eating Disorder and Fall in Love with Life, to emphasize this point. I don’t think my first book, Life Without Ed, which I wrote when I was “significantly” recovered, made clear enough that complete freedom is possible. Even though statistics tell us that only a certain percentage of those struggling with eating disorders fully recover, another percentage significantly recovers, and yet another group never gets better, my mission is to give each person I meet the hope for a full recovery.
Years ago, there was one young woman in my eating disorder therapy group who no one thought would ever make it. I hate to admit this, but we had all lost hope for her. We were wrong. I just saw her, and she is thriving. She is doing better in her life than most people I know. She is also recovered.
As I sit here at my desk, I just received that dreaded call from my mom. My foot is propped on a chair next to me, because it is broken and may need surgery. (To top that off, the crutches that I use to get around with these days just broke, too!) And I recently lost a job that I depend on for part of my income. I am facing challenges emotionally, physically, and financially. Many things in my life are uncertain at this point.
Yet one thing is certain: I am eating. I just had lunch with a friend, including a big cupcake for dessert. Food is no longer a way I cope with life. Awful, challenging, difficult things can happen to me, but nothing can force me to turn back to eating disordered behaviors. I am healthy, strong, and vibrant. I am recovered. (Period.)
When I didn’t have the strength to believe in recovery for myself many years ago, my mom held onto that hope for me. Now, it is my turn to hold it for her.
There is always hope. People do recover.
