For a long time, my relationship with food and fitness looked perfect from the outside. I was the one who tracked every calorie down to the last gram, always had my meals prepped, never missed a workout, and avoided anything that might throw me off track. But honestly? It was exhausting. My mind was constantly consumed with thoughts of what I ate, how much I moved, and how my body looked. I wasn’t living—I was just surviving within the narrow boundaries I’d set for myself.
Every morning, I’d wake up and the first thing on my mind was food. What could I eat today? When would I eat? How could I keep my calories as low as possible while still hitting my “macros”? Social situations that involved food? Nope, too risky. I avoided them because I hated the feeling of not being in control. And exercise? That wasn’t just a part of my routine—it was the rule. I couldn’t skip a day, no matter how tired or sore I was. Rest days weren’t a thing for me because I thought I had to earn my food.
Looking back, I realise it wasn’t about health at all. It was about control. I believed that if I could just get everything “right,” I’d finally feel good about myself. But the truth is, I never did. No matter how thin I got or how perfectly I followed my routine, it was never enough. I always found something to criticise, something to fix.
The Turning Point
Breaking free from that mindset was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. I wish I could say there was a clear lightbulb moment when everything changed, but that’s not how it happened. It was a slow, messy, uncomfortable process that required me to let go of a lot of beliefs I’d held onto for years.
One of the biggest steps I had to take was eating more—and gaining weight. And let me tell you, that was hard. For someone who had spent years obsessing over shrinking my body, watching it change felt terrifying. But I knew that if I kept doing what I was doing, I’d stay stuck in the same exhausting cycle.
I also knew I couldn’t do it alone. I needed help, and that’s when I sought out guidance experts who really knew their stuff. They taught me how to properly fuel my body. It wasn’t just about eating more—it was about understanding what my body actually needed to function well. Learning the science behind it helped take some of the fear out of food. I started seeing meals as fuel and nourishment, not just numbers to be controlled. That knowledge gave me a sense of security I hadn’t felt in years.
But as helpful as that was, it wasn’t enough on its own. I needed to figure out the emotional side of things too. That’s where therapy came in.
Understanding the “Why”
Therapy helped me understand something really important: my eating disorder wasn’t about vanity, and it definitely wasn’t a choice. It was a coping mechanism—a way to create a sense of control when everything else in my life felt overwhelming.
That realisation was both freeing and heartbreaking. On one hand, it helped me let go of the guilt I’d been carrying for years. It wasn’t my fault. I wasn’t broken or flawed. I was just doing the best I could with the tools I had at the time.
But it also meant I had to confront some pretty uncomfortable truths. I had to face the fact that my perfectionism—the part of me that wanted to be the “perfect Lucy” who always had it together—was driving so many of my behaviours. I’d created this version of myself that looked good on paper: disciplined, in control, always striving for more. But that version of me wasn’t real. And keeping up that act was exhausting.
Letting go of that need to be perfect was hard. It’s still something I work on. But learning to embrace the “real Lucy”—the one who’s imperfect, messy, and human—has been a game-changer. It’s in that realness that I’ve found freedom.
The Path to Freedom
I won’t lie and say recovery has been all sunshine and rainbows. It’s been messy. There were setbacks, moments of doubt, and times when I wondered if it was even worth it. But over time, things started to shift.
I stopped fearing food. I began to enjoy social occasions without obsessing over every bite. I allowed myself to take rest days without spiraling into guilt. And most importantly, I started to feel more at peace with myself.
These days, I train really hard—not because I have to, but because I love feeling strong. I love the rush of accomplishment after a tough session, but it’s more than that. Lifting weights regularly makes me feel like I’m safeguarding my future. I know I’m building strength to protect my bones and independence for years to come, and that feels empowering.
When it comes to food, I eat in a way that fuels my body and makes me feel great most of the time. But I’ve also learned how important it is to go out and enjoy meals with friends and family. Eating out isn’t just about the food—it’s about connection, laughter, and creating memories. It’s a source of joy and something I now see as essential for my social and emotional health.
I feel sad for the version of Lucy who missed out on that. The one who stayed home, counting calories instead of counting moments with loved ones. She didn’t know how much she was missing.
This journey has taught me that true health isn’t about following rigid rules or striving for perfection. It’s about listening to your body and giving it what it needs. It’s about finding balance (even if it’s messy and imperfect) and showing up as your real, authentic self.
If you’re feeling stuck in that cycle of food rules, obsessive exercise, or body image struggles, I want you to know that change is possible. It won’t be easy, but it will be worth it. You deserve a life where food and fitness support you, not control you.
For me, letting go of perfectionism, getting expert guidance, and doing the inner work through therapy were key steps in this journey. I hope that by sharing my story, it inspires you to take that first step toward your own freedom.
Comments +