The Dark Side of Eating Disorder Recovery

I started Sprinkles in Bed with a goal of inspiring and encouraging others, and to highlight the positive aspects of the eating disorder recovery process. If you have dealt with an E.D., however, you know it’s impossible to stay in a place of positivity on a regular basis. Sometimes the journey is downright hard. I’m trudging my way through one of those difficult times now, so I thought I’d keep it real and share the dark side of my own recovery from binge-eating disorder.

Repetitive Food Thoughts Shifted to Negative Body Thoughts
I’ve always been critical of my appearance, but I didn’t start truly hating my body until I started my recovery journey. Part of that hatred came from no longer “numbing out” with food, but my self-loathing was also a result of letting go of dieting.

I always held onto a thread of hope that the next diet would whip me into shape, so I tended to focus on what my body might look like one day instead of the realities of the body I was living in. It’s extremely difficult to give up on the hope of being “better” or “smaller” or “more beautiful” one day. When I gave up dieting, I also realized that most commercials and other marketing schemes are intentionally telling women to hate who they currently are and focus on the future.

Wising up and noticing these messages was a massive shift for me, and I am still navigating the lies society shoves down women’s throats each and every day. When I started really feeling my feelings again (because I wasn’t stuffing them down), I had an overwhelming flood of negative thoughts and anger. Unfortunately, my body got the brunt of my bitterness.

I Didn’t Know Who I Was
Every single personal goal I made for 15+ years was tied to weight loss. Every time I moved my body, it was to burn calories. The more my body ached the day after a workout, the better. “Good days” and “bad days” depended on my calorie intake, the step count on my Fitbit, and the number on the scale. When I stopped tracking, I realized I had no idea who I really was. My identity was tied up in numbers.

Of course, there is an upside to having more brain space and time after giving up dieting. Honestly, I wasn’t ready to tackle big life problems and I was in desperate need of a new outlet. I had quit running because exercise played a big part in my disorder, but running was a part of my identity as well as a stress reliever. I felt like I needed to start with a clean slate in order to get to know myself again.

I Felt Out of Control
When I gave up my Fitbit and the scale, I also quit tracking my food and stopped meal planning altogether. I was winging it, and food completely lost its appeal. Foods were no longer “good” or “bad,” and I was disappointed to find that food wasn’t fun for me at all anymore. With no cheat days or rules, the act of choosing meals or snacks just seemed like work. I felt no joy in it. I was sure that I would keep gaining weight forever. It was a strange mix of feeling blah and out of control.

I Let Other Things Go, Too
Because my life had always been very black and white, giving up dieting also led me to becoming lax with finances. It’s difficult to be strict in some areas and completely let go in others. Historically, I would swing from being on top of every dollar to saying “screw it, life’s too short for this shit.” I had no concept of balance. This is an area I continue to struggle with.

Not Everyone Appreciated My Newfound Voice
Thanks to author Anita Johnston, I learned that recovery would require me finding my voice. For years, I was a follower. I’d just go along with others’ opinion, claiming that I was open-minded. I truly believed that!

As it turns out, I do have my own opinions and when I started voicing them, it seemed like my loved ones started dropping like flies. It’s not that my views are over the top… My family and friends just weren’t used to me speaking up. Looking back, I needed those people to step out of my life for me to finally move forward.

I Felt Like I Was on Another Planet
One thing that becomes clear quickly during eating disorder recovery is that a disordered frame of mind is completely normal in our society. It has become abnormal not to be on a diet or to be content with one’s body. We’re taught to rely on external factors to help us decide whether we’re “okay.”

I found so many Facebook and Instagram posts triggering in the beginning stages of recovery, and once again I felt like I had no voice because the battle was just too big to take on.

I cleaned house on social media and started following fellow body positive folks. A huge part of my healing, also, was unplugging completely from Facebook for several weeks. Whether it’s advertisements or acquaintances’ posts, it’s impossible to stay in a positive frame of mind while scrolling through triggering images and messages.

I Gained Weight
My worst fear came true, and I live to tell about it! I’ve always teetered on that line between “plus sizes” and “normal sizes,” and I always hated that I wasn’t one of those women who could shop in the juniors section. When I started recovery, I had gained a significant amount of weight, and throughout the intuitive eating process, I gained more weight. I wasn’t one of those people who lost weight in recovery, and I’ll be honest… I hated that more than anything. I thought the weight gain would never stop, but sure enough, it did.

Coming to terms with being a plus size woman and learning to be okay with my appearance has been the most difficult part of my journey. I remember a time when I felt amazing in my clothes, but I also recall the torture I put myself through to fit into a size I’m just not meant to be in. My husband and kids love me, I have great friends and a thriving career doing what I always dreamed of. I’m thankful for all I have, and I have to believe that one day my body will be on that list.

Despite the Heartaches, Recovery Is Worth It
Yes, recovery has chewed me up and spit me out. It has been exhausting and scary. But it has also let me grow into the real me. I’m still getting to know the person I was meant to be, and little by little, I’m growing to like her. Maybe one day I’ll love her.


Is “Letting Yourself Go” Really All That Bad?

Years ago, I remember hearing someone close to me muse that a family friend had “let himself go.” As a teenager, I didn’t understand the sentiment, but I recall hearing the same statement multiple times over the years and eventually equating fat with a lack of ambition.

As a person who was unable to maintain a “healthy weight” by societal standards, I internalized my loved one’s comment and quietly identified myself as a thin girl stuck in a fat girl’s body for self-preservation. If I did lose weight, I’d gain it back quickly. I felt ashamed of my weight fluctuations and disappointed in myself for not working hard enough to lose my big belly and double chin. My self-deprecating internal dialog left very little brain space to go after my dream of becoming a writer or pursue any of my other goals.

The same person who degraded people’s appearances throughout my adolescence later confronted a fat family member about her weight before she graduated from college. “Employers pay attention to these things,” she told this young woman, who had worked her ass off to maintain a 4.0). She added: “You should start working on your weight now so you can find a good job after graduation.”

I’m ashamed to admit that, at the time, I had no idea this was horrible advice. Thankfully, I’ve woken up since. No matter how ignorant or “well-meaning,” those hurtful words surely had a lasting impact. Did the fact that this college student chose to pursue her dreams mean she had “let herself go?” Should she have spent long hours at the gym instead of studying? Counting calories rather than looking for career options? Would that have made her more worthy of acceptance?

During my eating disorder recovery, I felt like it was me against the world. “The whole world is on a diet,” I used to tell my dietician. Although I still feel that way sometimes, I realize now how much space I’ve freed up in my life to actually live! See, when I was restricting and bingeing and hating myself for having no control, I had no energy left to actually live my life.

If letting myself go means finding peace in my bigger body and not striving to reach another temporary weight loss goal, I’m happy to let myself go. I now feel sorry for people who are so superficial that they can’t see past physical appearances and perceived “flaws.” Their judgments keep them from fully embracing life and loving perfectly lovable people. Their perceptions are no reflection on the people they choose to judge.

I no longer connect fatness to laziness. In fact, I realize now that perpetual dieters lack ambition, not because they’re incapable of amazing things (they are!), but because their main goal in life is to shrink themselves, leaving no room to accomplish great things. I would rather be known for my advocacy, positive attitude, and the mark I made on the world as a writer than an empty soul in a pretty little package.



What To Do After an ‘Aha’ Moment

I’ll never forget the night that I pieced together my cycle while journaling in bed. I had been reading Geneen Roth’s When Food is Love – a book that wound up being life-changing for me.

In her book, Geneen explains that our disordered eating patterns are a metaphor for how we live our lives. I could easily recognize that I had been restricting and binge eating for years, but I had never considered that every aspect of my life followed a similarly dysfunctional cycle.

I grew up in a turbulent household, and while I have many fond memories, I remember always being on edge. Along with being physically abusive to my older brother, my father was incredibly moody. He often made hurtful comments that still pop into my mind as an adult. He told me I was selfish on a regular basis and that I was killing my mother. We lived in a rural area with no houses within walking distance, so if I wanted to go to a friend’s house, my mom had to drive me. She never seemed bothered, but Dad would later tell me I was exhausting (and killing) her. I always felt torn when a friend invited me over, because despite knowing I was “killing” my mother, I wanted to escape. My friends’ parents always seemed so “normal.”

On a good day, my dad would be funny and sing songs, take the family out for a drive in his old convertible, and spoil us with “stuff.” I was more on edge on good days, because I was waiting for the other shoe to drop. The good times never lasted long, and I always felt a heaviness that my friends didn’t seem to feel.

On that day several months ago while I was journaling in bed, I realized that I had continued my childhood cycle without even realizing it. If things felt “too good” in my marriage, I would find something to worry and gripe about, which would inevitably lead to an argument. I never felt safe or settled with my husband, because I kept him at arm’s length and got mad at him for insignificant issues.

I landed an amazing job as a news writer last year, but I couldn’t celebrate my success because, upon landing the job, I was already in fear of failing.

If I started to feel overwhelmed by a friendship, I’d pull away and quietly end it, or I’d let minor irritations build up until I blew up in anger. I always thought something was broken in me – that I was incapable of maintaining friendships. Looking back, I see that my parents had the same pattern of ending meaningful relationships. Their emotional immaturity resulted in my own stunted emotional growth.

I’m still working through this part of my recovery journey, but what I’ve learned so far is that my thoughts were very black and white. I was either obsessively dieting or having a free-for-all. My house was either impeccably clean or in chaos. I either agreed with my friends or pulled away from them. There was no middle ground.

It makes sense that I grew up to be someone who saw the world in black and white. When I was 18, my parents got mad at me over something trivial, and they stopped talking to me for a year and a half. Over the years, they divorced me multiple times for minor disagreements – all of which could have been worked through with an honest conversation. I had seen them cut people off throughout my life, but it was deeply wounding for me – their daughter – to be the one they discarded. Fortunately, I’ve seen their pattern, and they will no longer have the opportunity to hurt me by disowning me. While I’m on a constant mission to reflect and improve myself, they have no desire to change.

When I began piecing my cycle together, I felt an overwhelming sense of excitement and sadness. I mourned the life I could have lived, and I was hopeful for the future. What confused  me, though, after my “aha moment” was the emptiness I felt mixed with that joy and sorrow. Sure, I had worked out my patterns, but knowing how to move forward proved to be the most difficult part.

I asked my therapist why I felt so confused by my newfound knowledge. Sure, my curiosity had led me to that epiphany, but my question was, “What now?” She explained that my awareness would change everything and the process would take time. I waited for months for answers while I continued to read people’s recovery stories and listen to inspirational podcasts. I became aware of everything; I felt I was in a hyper-sensitive state, but I had no idea what to do with my awareness.

Then one day, I realized I hadn’t binged in a couple of weeks, and I was actually feeling my feelings. Although I had a lot of uncomfortable emotions to deal with, I wasn’t pushing them away. I was opening up to my husband, and although I still freaked out occasionally and we’d have arguments, I didn’t hold onto the anger nearly as long. I was processing my feelings and dealing with them rather than sweeping them under the rug just for them to resurface later.

Although I had been in therapy for a couple of years before my aha moment, my recovery journey took an important turn that night as I wrote in my journal. I needed to become aware of my confusion to find the answers.

To My Readers,

I understand that sometimes it feels like you’re not making progress. There were days in my journey that I felt I was back to square one. I assure you, you never, ever have to start over! All of the work you’re doing is adding up, no matter how insignificant your efforts seem.

If you had a tumultuous upbringing, I recommend Adult Children of Emotionally Immature Parents, by Lindsay C. Gibson. This book will help you to understand why your parents are the way they are, and it will add awareness to your recovery journey. Gibson tells stories of grown men and women who have dealt with emotionally immature parents. It’s truly an enlightening resource.

I wish you the best as you continue to navigate the labyrinth of recovery. You’re not alone on the path. One day you’ll look back and be amazed at just how far you’ve come!

♥, K



How Kindness and Compassion Lead to Eating Disorder Recovery

There has been a quote clinging to my refrigerator for years: “Rule your mind, or it will rule you.” Just yesterday I realized how disordered my thinking was back when I bought that “encouraging” magnet.

For the 16+ years I counted points or calories and based my success in life on my weight, I tried to whip myself into shape over and over again. At Weight Watchers meetings, I remember looking at my blank food log and promising myself I’d have a perfect week on the program. I imagined everyone around me eating a healthy balance of protein, carbs, and a single dark chocolate square each night while I binged on Pop Tarts and cereal. They’d come back the next week with their meticulously filled-out logs, and I’d show up with blank pages (for the days I couldn’t face the truth) mixed with the occasional “perfect day.” There was no in between. My thinking was black and white back then.

Of course, I never had that “perfect week,” and the moment I went beyond my points or “fell off the wagon,” I’d throw in the towel, ridicule myself, and then pick up the pieces once again after my Monday weigh-in, promising to be an angel from that moment forward. And the cycle continued…

See, I wasn’t even kind to myself when I got “back on track” or when I “slipped up” for a perfectly good reason (try eating 20 points while on you’re period, ladies. It should be illegal). I never, EVER used a compassionate approach with myself. I either beat myself up or attempted to motivate myself with “tough love.”

Let me save you years of heartache and self-inflicted pain… My methods did not work. I spent years waiting for those short-lived glimpses of hope I would feel between hating myself for repeated failures. I was sure that I would one day have an aha moment and everything would click into place. I would live happily ever after in my cute, little body thanks to the time and effort I put into being hard on myself. I truly believed I’d get a much-deserved break once I was thin. Then reality hit.

I was thin for all of five minutes, and my life was just as difficult. The restricting and bingeing didn’t stop. In fact, I felt so much pressure to stay in my thin body that my disordered eating only got worse.

Let me fast forward to now. I’m emerging from the labyrinth of my binge eating disorder, and I’ve realized that the most crucial component in my recovery journey has been the way I talk to myself. This hasn’t come easy to me. I struggle with perfectionism, so treating myself with compassion after a fall has been an interesting learning experience. I’ve also struggled with body dysmorphia and an extremely poor body image, so my self-compassion muscle is constantly working these days. Some days it fatigues and I fall into old habits, but it’s getting stronger every day (even on days I feel like I’m making no progress or backsliding).

Because the majority of eating disorder recovery is a very abstract (and individual) process, there aren’t a whole lot of concrete steps that work for everyone. This makes the journey difficult, but once you realize you’re in the labyrinth, you’ll realize the only options are to stay in or get the hell out. My advice? Get out while you can!

As I mentioned, recovery isn’t a concrete, step-by-step process, but there are a few things I’d like to share with you that have helped me tremendously:

1. Love Your Wardrobe to Love Yourself: For years, I refused to buy nice clothes because I dreamed of being smaller. When I started recovering from my eating disorder, my dietician encouraged me to ditch my old clothes. I had been trying to squeeze into clothes that didn’t fit and hating myself for it.

I now have a beautiful wardrobe I love in my current size. I sold my old clothes on an auction website and used my earnings to invest in a gorgeous closet full of clothing. It’s much easier to be kind and compassionate when you’re not zipping yourself into jeans that are two sizes too small. (Side note: Start with replacing your bras and underwear… Trust me on this!)

2. Log Your Way to Compassion: When I started seeing my dietician, she asked me to describe my day to her. I told her my eating habits were completely disordered, and I truly believed I was broken beyond repair. But when I started ticking off the foods I eat throughout the day, she made me realize I wasn’t eating as dysfunctionally as I thought. She gave me a food log, not to count calories, but to help me see my patterns.

It’s much easier to be compassionate with yourself when you get real with yourself. I wasn’t nearly as broken as I thought I was. I logged my food for a couple of months and my dietician and I would look through the logs together without judgment. I soon learned that by giving myself unconditional permission to eat whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted it, and by being compassionate with myself when I binged or overate, those behaviors started decreasing. Kindness and compassion teach us to trust ourselves. I’m now aware of my hunger and fullness cues.

3. Write Down Your Soul: I often have difficulty organizing my thoughts. I am an anxious person by nature, so I worry a lot and am often unable to find perspective in difficult situations. Because of this, I have always relied on journaling. It has become an almost-daily practice for me, and I’m certain I wouldn’t be as far along in my recovery journey without it.

Write from your heart. Don’t edit your thoughts, and try not to be judgmental. When I sit down to write, I may have an idea of what topic I want to start with, but I almost always veer off in an unexpected direction. Writing about my thoughts and feelings gives me clarity.

Treat yourself to a nice journal or notebook, and start simple. Aim to journal from your heart for 5-10 minutes a day. Setting a timer works for some people, but I prefer to wing it. Do what works for you.

There’s one major downer about this recovery business. Because foods are no longer “good” or “bad,” eating isn’t nearly as fun. I rarely have an orgasm-worthy food experience these days, because I don’t deprive myself… ever. If I want a piece of cherry pie or a brownie warm from the oven, I eat it. Giving myself that freedom has taken away the urge to eat half the pie or pan of brownies. In fact, sometimes I don’t even finish my serving… That’s freaking freedom right there!

When I look back on those Weight Watchers meetings, I realize I wasn’t alone in my silent struggle. Hell, I was the leader; if I was struggling, my loyal meeting-goers were most-likely struggling, too. Looking back, I wish I had brought it up with them. I wish I had known that restricting my food intake would only lead to deprivation and bingeing. I wish I had known and taught my members that counting points or calories would lead to disordered eating for many (if not all) of us. Of course, I probably would have gotten fired, but I would have been truly helping people instead of playing into our society’s idea of what “normal eating” is.

I’m currently reading Self Compassion by Dr. Kristin Neff. It’s not eating disorder specific, but it will certainly help you along your recovery journey. Friends, please stop beating yourself up for your perceived failures and imperfections. You’ve done your best with the tools you’ve been given. Give yourself a hug for all you’ve been through and a high-five for all you’ve accomplished, and get to work loving yourself. You’re worth the effort.

How Weight Watchers Provoked My Eating Disorder

For years now, I’ve felt that I’m on the verge of something… like I could start fully living and enjoying my life if that something clicked into place.

Back in 2000 – when I was 20 years old – I joined Weight Watchers with my mom. We’d never been close, and I agreed to go with her in hopes that we would bond. I figured it would give us a reason to get together once a week, and if I lost a few pounds in the process, it would be an added bonus.

Looking back, I see how innocent and truly naive I was. When Mom and I returned for our second weigh-in the next week, I had lost 4.5lbs. I thought, “That was easy! Weight Watchers gives me something to focus on. I might as well keep coming.”

I did keep going… I attended weekly Monday night meetings religiously for exactly 9 months. My mom had quit the program about a month into my weight loss journey, but by that time I was hooked.

Weight Watchers fed into my perfectionist tendencies by insisting it was acceptable – and celebrated – to write down everything I ate. “BLTs” (bites, licks, and tastes) became little reminders that I had no willpower, and every morsel must be recorded to keep me accountable. “Nothing tastes as good as thin feels” became my mantra, and it stuck with me for years as I plummeted into a full-blown eating disorder.

After losing 72.5lbs in 9 months, I was asked to become a Weight Watchers leader. Get paid to maintain my new, tiny figure? Count me in! I signed-on right away.

I was a fairly successful leader, leading traditional and at-work meetings. My loyal members, like me, would determine if they had had a good or bad week based on the number on the scale. We all weighed-in faithfully, and before we even had a chance to celebrate our victories or bandage our wounded post weigh-in egos, we would already be making a plan for the number to go down at our next meeting. At my goal, I was given so few points that I was always starving. At one point, I had dropped below my goal weight by 15lbs. I thought I’d always have to live hungry to have a chance at being happy. Back then, I believed being thin was the only chance I had at happiness.

Weight Watchers fail #1: The program teaches its members to look ahead and never to be in the present moment. 

Not long after I became a Weight Watchers leader, I was offered a job at the corporate office about an hour from my home. I took the job – proud to be moving up the ladder (side note: the pay was terrible).

Within a couple of months, I had started to gain weight, and my supervisors took notice. My husband and I had started trying for a baby. We were having issues with infertility, and maintaining my thinness was the least of my concerns.

One day, one of my bosses pulled me into the conference room. She asked me what was going on with my weight and told me that – as leaders – we have standards to uphold. In other words, I would not be considered worthy of leading meetings and working for Weight Watchers if I wasn’t thin enough.

Weight Watchers fail #2: The program teaches us that we are “less than” if we weigh more than what is considered acceptable by Weight Watchers (or a doctor’s) guidelines.

Soon after my supervisor called me out on my (small) weight gain, I was asked to lead a meeting near my workplace. Exhausted from a long day at the office and an unexpected meeting, I stopped at Walgreens for a snack on my way home and felt myself being drawn to the candy aisle.

I went into a daze then. I wanted to numb my feelings and forget about my boss’s hurtful comments. Plus, I was tired of constantly feeling hungry. I stood in that forbidden, brightly-lit aisle mesmerized, finally settling on a family-size bag of Snickers balls. I ate the entire package on my hour-long commute home.

Weight Watchers fail #3: The program teaches members to rely on external means (points) rather than internal cues. It teaches us not to trust ourselves.

I felt disgusting and zoned-out, but mostly I felt like a hypocrite. I had just lectured a room full of women (and a couple of men) on how to “eat right,” telling them, “If you bite it, you write it,” but there I sat bloated and confused as to why I had just eaten thousands of sugary calories.

My disordered eating took root quickly after that first binge. In hindsight, I see that it actually started the moment I began counting points. I began a cycle of counting and tracking points, bingeing, hating myself, restricting my food intake, exercising compulsively, feeling hopeful, and then spiraling downward again.

Only after I had my twins in 2004 did I seek help for my disordered eating. At the time, Binge Eating Disorder wasn’t a medical diagnosis, but I saw a therapist at a center that specialized in treatment for eating disorders.

Throughout this entire process, I felt like I was on the verge of something “bigger.” With two colicky infants and a policeman husband, I put myself on the back burner and continued to cope by stuffing myself with food or depriving myself of it, but all the while, I was certain that one day I’d come out the other side.

Although I had continued to lead meetings throughout my pregnancy, I stopped after I had the babies. I just couldn’t get back down to my weight goal, and I was tired of fighting the system. I felt like a complete failure, despite giving birth to two beautiful, healthy children. My doctor told me the likelihood of my husband and I having more kids was slim due to my fertility problems. I learned I have PCOS (polycistic ovary syndrome), which was playing into my weight gain.

Imagine my surprise when I found out we were expecting a third baby! I was terrified, as I had suffered with debilitating post-partum depression with the twins, and I knew I couldn’t go through that again. I was sick throughout the pregnancy and didn’t gain much weight. But after my youngest son was born on the twins’ second birthday, I began to cope with the realities of having three babies at home and a shift-working cop husband. It was a tough few years.

After that, I was in and out of therapy for my binge-eating. I was never really open about it with my husband. He had enough on his mind, and honestly he just didn’t “get” it when I tried to explain my frustrations to him. I tried multiple times to go back on the Weight Watchers program. I dreamed of leading meetings again and reuniting with my cute, little figure.

That didn’t happen. I did manage to lose some weight a few times over the years. My husband and I divorced in 2009, and I took a hiatus from coping with food. Instead, I found some sense of control in starving myself and drinking wine. But when I fell for my now-husband, I started to eat – and binge – again.

A couple of years ago, I started seeing a new therapist. I was bingeing almost daily and was utterly miserable. If I wasn’t counting points or calories, I chastised myself for my lack of willpower. When I was “on the wagon,” I felt deprived and waited for the next binge episode to come.

To make a long story short, that “something” finally clicked earlier this year. After reading a compelling book by Geneen Roth, I was writing in my journal, I put my cycle together and realized it had impacted every area of my life. I had grown up in an abusive household where my life played out in cycles. My eating habits were synonymous with how I lived my life.

Although my eating disorder most-likely would have taken root without my Weight Watchers experience, it’s important to note that it significantly impacted how the disorder emerged. I grew up believing I wasn’t enough and Weight Watchers reiterated that. What was I on the verge of all those years? Perfection. I was reaching for something that doesn’t exist.

After my epiphany earlier this year, I began intensive treatment for my Binge Eating Disorder, and things began clicking into place. I had been squeezing into clothes that didn’t fit me, just waiting on my will-power to kick in again so I could rock all of the beautiful outfits in my closet. One of the very first things my eating disorder dietician told me was to go out and buy new bras and underwear that fit and to stop punishing myself every day by staring at (and trying to squeeze into) those “goal clothes” in my closet.

My recovery journey has been incredibly messy and at times completely heartbreaking. I’ve stopped bingeing, but the lasting effects of my eating disorder are a constant in my everyday life. I struggle with body image and feeling like I’m “less than” because I’m living in a bigger body. I write about celebrities for a living, so I’m constantly reminded that my body is far from “ideal.”

One thing I do know is that I can no longer attempt to control my weight. Looking back, I realize that I never had control of it at all. My body was always in control. My dietician is teaching me intuitive eating and I’ve learned that no foods are good or bad. Like I said, I’ve stopped bingeing altogether, but I still have a lot of work to do.

I hear accepting my body as-is will take much longer than it took me to stop bingeing. I’m okay with that, because I work on my recovery every single day. I’m going to continue writing here to document my journey. There are many facets of the recovery process… I realize that now. It’s why I used to get so frustrated when I would Google, “How to stop binge-eating,” and nothing helpful would show up. Every journey is different, and that’s what makes this process so messy. It’s like a labyrinth, but I’m finally seeing light at the end of the maze.

People used to tell me that Weight Watchers isn’t a diet. It is. I back that statement by explaining that the program encourages its members to focus on external goals and cues rather than trusting and honoring their bodies. Any program that focuses on weight control or has rules is, indeed, a diet.

People don’t fail; the diets they keep going back to fail them. If diets worked, the industry would cave. That won’t be happening anytime soon.

It took me quite some time to fall in love with a name for my blog. I chose “Sprinkles in B.E.D.” for two reasons:

1. For years, I would wake up in the middle of the night and sneak food into bed. It was shameful for me when I’d wake up the next morning and see Pop-Tart and candy bar wrappers all over the floor. Now, my husband and I enjoy cupcakes or cookies in bed together on a regular basis. There is no shame in sharing treats in bed. In fact, it’s liberating!

2. I also chose “Sprinkles in B.E.D.” because eating disorder recovery is freaking amazing! It has many low points – don’t get me wrong – but the self-discovery that comes along with it is awesome! As you begin your journey, you will notice there is plenty of “good” sprinkled into the process.

Below is a list of a few of the resources I wish I had known about when I started my recovery process. These books and podcasts have played an important part in my journey, and I hope they will help you in yours, too.


When Food Is Love,” by Geneen Roth

Eating in the Light of the Moon,” By Anita Johnston

Intuitive Eating,” by Evelyn Tribole and Elyse Resch


The Recovery Warrior Show with Jessica Raymond

Food Psych with Christy Harrison

Until next time,