In 2019, one month before my 57^th birthday, I entered a partial hospitalization program (PHP) for anorexia. I will never forget my first day at the Eating Disorder Treatment Center.

I was greeted warmly and escorted to a room where my blood pressure and weight were measured. For the first time, I was instructed to step on the scale backwards; something I learned is called a “blind weigh-in.” I was not allowed to know my weight, my blood pressure, or my pulse. I was told that the discussion of numbers wasn’t allowed.

I couldn’t know my numbers. They are my numbers. I needed those numbers. Those numbers were my coordinates. They told me who and where I was in the world.

Distracted by what the numbers might have been, I was ushered to a large room with big windows. I sat down in the midst of 20 and 30-year-old girls chatting and commenting on the previous evening’s activities.

Small tears tattled on the mayhem ensuing in my stomach. My head felt like an anvil.

It wasn’t long befor...

As long as I remember, I’ve struggled with body image, and I believed I was fat. I was constantly comparing myself with others, and finding my value in what I believed *they believed* about me.

As I entered high school, I began to make changes that led me down a path of disordered eating.

In January of 2016, I was hospitalized for anorexia nervosa. I spent 7 weeks in the hospital. During this time, I began counseling, often with my parents present. That started the journey of recovery, but I was mostly unwilling on my part; it was forced by my parents and I only consented as long as it enabled me to do what I wanted to do.

I entered a “mostly recovered” state, which I lived in for a long time. This involved extremely strict rules about food and exercise, and an obsession with performance. It may have been healthier than previous behavior, yet still not a healthy way to live.

I certainly was not walking in freedom.

In the fall of 2022, I reached another rock-bottom place. I reco...