One of the first lessons I had to confront in eating disorder (ED) recovery is that, more often than not, triggers are unavoidable. As much as I still want to insulate myself from these triggers that activate my harmful thought patterns, sheer avoidance is an unrealistic goal. The fact is, I will encounter situations that trigger me because I am a human who lives in the world. Many areas of life are chaotic, stressful, anxiety-inducing, and just plain uncontrollable—I cannot hide from this reality. So, a more effective use of time is to equip myself with tools to deal with ED triggers in environments outside my control.

Let's talk about quasi-eating disorder recovery. This is by no means a term I invented, but it is a state of being I am acutely familiar with. I have experienced it myself, and I have seen it manifest in other people who are on healing journeys as well.

Is there a right time to share your eating disorder story? And if so, when do you know the time is right? I have been thinking about these questions lately with regard to my own eating disorder story. A few months ago, I heard vulnerability researcher Brené Brown state in a podcast interview, "If there is a part of my story that I feel compelled to seek external validation for, then I am not ready to talk about it publicly."

When I reflect on some of the bravest people I know, those who are in eating disorder recovery often come to mind. That's because the pursuit of eating disorder recovery is courageous. It can be scary to take the steps into a new way of life apart from this illness, but the decision to move toward healing is also incredibly brave.

If there is one lesson I have taken from last year's events, it's that I am allowed to create space for burnout in eating disorder recovery. In fact, this goes beyond just permissible—creating space for burnout is essential for mental health and resilience. The feeling of burnout is sometimes inevitable in life, but it does not have to compromise eating disorder recovery. Here is how I deal with burnout in my own healing process.

When it comes to my own mental health and eating disorder recovery, a lack of joy is one of the main indicators that I am not in a stable headspace. As I have learned, an eating disorder is a thief of joy, so when I feel overwhelmed by chaos and unable to see pockets of joy, it's a sign that I need to recalibrate.

If you live confined within a scarcity mindset, then be warned: this mentality can—and often does—turn into an eating disorder. The term scarcity mindset refers to a belief that you do not deserve abundance and lack a sense of personal worth, so you act out of self-denial instead of nourishment and freedom. This can lead to dangerous behaviors, such as caloric restriction in an effort to deprive or discipline yourself, which could become a full-blown eating disorder over time. A scarcity mindset is detrimental to your healing, but it can be overcome in eating disorder recovery.

Relationships are challenging at the best of times, but when you're dating someone in eating disorder recovery, they can be even more so. After all, eating disorder recovery is a time when people should be focused on building a healthy relationship with themselves. Throwing another person into the mix complicates an already complicated situation.

I have used many coping mechanisms to help with eating disorder recovery, but one that I find particularly essential is a self-care toolkit for the holidays. I co-opted this idea back in high school from a teacher I was close to, and 10 years later, I still consider it beneficial. No matter where you are in eating disorder recovery, this season is often a mental and emotional battleground, so the importance of reliable coping mechanisms cannot be over-emphasized. Therefore, I want to discuss why I think a self-care toolkit is essential for the holidays—and how to create one yourself.

Last week in a counseling session, my therapist issued me an assignment: Write a "dear body" letter to myself. In the past, I have done similar exercises, like the goodbye letter I wrote to my eating disorder in 2018. But this undertaking feels much different.