How I Knew I Was Fully Recovered from My Eating Disorder

Today, I want to talk about how I knew I was fully recovered from my eating disorder—and what “fully recovered” even means to me.

How I Initially Thought About Recovery

When I began to recover from my eating disorder, I was living in Eastern Europe, where there was almost no awareness about eating disorders. Hardly anyone talked about them online, and I never heard anyone mention the possibility of being fully recovered. I was in therapy for a while, but I don’t recall my therapist ever bringing up the idea that full recovery was possible. So initially, I settled for recovering to a life where I could manage my symptoms and keep them in check—or in remission.

At first, I told myself that was fine. I put in the work and saw that I was making good progress, so I didn’t mind the effort. But after my first relapse and as my progress plateaued, I started reconsidering how I felt about all the effort I had to put in. The idea of working for the rest of my life just to keep my eating disorder symptoms in check wasn’t appealing anymore. I felt like all I did was work on recovery, leaving little time to live my life—the very life I was recovering for. What’s the point of recovering if it means staying this vigilant forever?

Eventually, I came across people online talking about the possibility of being fully recovered. At first, I was skeptical. I didn’t just dismiss it outright; I convinced myself that these people were probably delusional, lying to themselves, or even lying to me. Maybe they were trying to sell something that would supposedly help me recover. I was certain they had something to gain from claiming full recovery.

Over time, I realized this was a limiting belief. If I didn’t believe that full recovery was possible, I would never achieve it. This belief could become a self-fulfilling prophecy. I had to stay open to the possibility that full recovery could happen for me—even if it wasn’t guaranteed. So I continued my recovery, keeping an open mind about full recovery.

The Challenge of Letting Go

Once I decided to believe full recovery was possible, I put that expectation on myself, making everything a bit worse for a while. I started obsessing over every decision around food and exercise, scrutinizing them, making sure every choice came from a healthy place. That level of vigilance was exhausting and unsustainable. Eventually, I realized that as long as all my thoughts revolved around recovery, I wouldn’t be able to tell if I was fully recovered. I wasn’t really living my life or giving my healthy self a chance to take the steering wheel.

So, I gave myself a break from overthinking and second-guessing. I started living my life, trusting that what I had learned in recovery would keep me stable. I even stopped talking about my eating disorder experiences because I felt like focusing on them kept my attention on the disorder. I took off the training wheels and waited to see if my patterns would change.

This didn’t mean I stopped caring for myself or practicing self-care. But my intention shifted. I no longer saw self-care as a way to keep my eating disorder at bay. I engaged in it because it felt good—and because, frankly, it’s what everyone deserves. You deserve to take good care of yourself, set boundaries, and advocate for yourself.

Real-Life Signs of Recovery

Over the years, I occasionally looked back at my progress and my life in general. I could see how my freedom and relationship with food, exercise, and my body had gradually improved. My recovery was still ongoing, and there’s always room for growth—but having work to do doesn’t mean you still have an eating disorder.

This is why you can’t pinpoint an exact date and say, “I’m recovered from today.” Recovery is gradual. There’s no finish line, no medal, no champagne. It’s more like one day, you realize you can’t remember the last time you had eating disorder thoughts or engaged in behaviors. Life still throws challenges at you, but you cope without returning to harmful patterns. Full recovery won’t give you plot armor, but it gives you the tools to navigate life—and the capacity to deal with said challenges.

What Being Fully Recovered Means to Me

There’s no universally accepted definition of full recovery. No lab test or brain scan can confirm that you’re fully recovered. While brain scans show that people with eating disorders have different activity in certain areas of the brain, a return to “normal” activity doesn’t prove that someone no longer has disordered thoughts or behaviors.

Carolyn Costin’s definition resonates with me. She says full recovery means:

• Accepting your natural body size and shape

• Having a healthy, intuitive relationship with food and exercise

• Not tying self-worth to weight

• Letting the numbers on the scale become irrelevant

• Not compromising your health or true self for appearance or weight

• No longer using eating disorder behaviors to cope with other issues

This definition can still feel somewhat vague, so I want to share some real-life examples that show me I am fully recovered.

Moving, Stress, and Burnout

A few years ago, we moved to a new country where we didn’t know anyone. We sold everything we owned, started jobs in foreign languages, and navigated renting, buying, and renovating a home—all stressful experiences. I also experienced burnout at my newly found job and decided to quit.

In the past, situations like these—stress, major life changes, or burnout—would have triggered eating disorder thoughts or behaviors. But I managed them without reverting to old patterns. There were even times when I didn’t exercise at all, which normally would have caused anxiety—but it didn’t this time.

Six months ago, we moved back from Scotland to Hungary, our plans for starting a family falling through. The process was similar to when we moved to Scotland—a kind of grieving process—but it didn’t affect my mental health or trigger any eating disorder thoughts. This showed me, again, that my recovery wasn’t fragile; I could handle major life changes without returning to old patterns.

Helping Others and Staying Stable

Another sign of my recovery is my work as an eating disorder recovery coach. I support clients who are going through their own recovery journeys, and this doesn’t trigger me—I can observe their struggles without feeling compelled to return to my own past behaviors.

Sometimes, when they talk about certain behaviors, it reminds me that I used to do those things too. But instead of feeling drawn back into old patterns, I just remember them—and move on. This ability to witness ED behaviors without being triggered is a huge proof of how far I’ve come.

Thyroid Medication

Another example I like to use is my thyroid medication. My thyroid is essentially non-functional, and taking the medication affects metabolism and can cause weight changes. When I started taking it during my recovery, it triggered a relapse. I was obsessed with the possibility of medically assisted weight loss and even intentionally overdosed at one point. Today, I take the pill every morning without thinking twice. It’s part of my routine, just like taking a vitamin.

These experiences show that recovery is not about being immune to challenges—it’s about facing life without falling back into harmful patterns.

Takeaway

To achieve full recovery, you need to remain open to possibility and trust the process. Recovery doesn’t mean perfection or immunity—it means being able to live your life fully, with the tools and habits that support your health and well-being.