October 10th Q&A - Delaying Recovery, Night-Time Hunger & the Truth About Weight Gain

This month’s questions were powerful — raw, honest, and full of the kind of fear that only shows up when you’re standing right on the edge of change.
If you’ve been waiting for the “right time” to start, struggling with your changing body, or wondering why recovery still feels so impossibly hard, this Q&A is for you.

1. “I’ll start recovery after the charity run.” — How to stop delaying healing

Holly’s question summed up something so many of you feel: that tug-of-war between knowing what you need to do and being terrified to actually do it. The voice that says, “Not yet. Just one last thing.”

But this isn’t really about the run. It’s about the fear of stopping. The fear of falling apart once you do.
Restriction numbs. Exercise distracts. And when you stop both, all the exhaustion and emotion underneath finally surface. That’s not weakness — that’s healing beginning.

The eating disorder will always find reasons to delay: the run, the holiday, the event. But if you already know it’s using those things to hold you hostage, then you have your answer. You don’t need to earn your way into recovery. You just need to start — shaky, tired, and scared — because freedom can’t wait until after the finish line.

2. Grieving your thinner body, old clothes, and what they represented

Laura’s question went deeper than fear of weight gain — it was about grief.
Because when your body changes, you don’t just lose a number on a scale. You lose the identity that was once praised, the clothes that made you feel accepted, the illusion that thinness meant success.

It makes perfect sense that it hurts. Those clothes, those compliments — they were evidence that you were doing “well,” even when you were silently suffering.
But every time you open your wardrobe and see them, your brain whispers, “You were better back then.” And that’s a lie.

The version of you who was smaller was also starving. She wasn’t free.
Letting go of those clothes isn’t giving up — it’s clearing space for the version of you who actually gets to live.

And when people make comments — about looking well, or thinner, or bigger — remember: they’re not revealing your truth. They’re revealing their conditioning. Their words don’t define your worth.

You do.

3. Do you have to go “all in” to fully recover?

Emma asked if full recovery is only possible through strict “all in” — total rest, no rules, unlimited eating — and what happens if you can’t do it perfectly.

Here’s the truth: all in isn’t a performance. It’s a direction.
It’s choosing nourishment, rest, and freedom as fully as you can right now — and expanding that capacity over time.

What rewires your brain isn’t doing recovery flawlessly. It’s doing it consistently.
Every time you respond to hunger, skip a compensation, rest when you’d normally move — that’s rewiring happening.

Recovery isn’t about perfection. It’s about persistence.
You don’t have to tick every box to get there. You just have to keep walking towards freedom, one brave decision at a time.

4. Living in a larger body when disgust feels unbearable

Emma’s second question was about shame and disgust — the unbearable emotions that come with inhabiting a softer, larger body.

Those feelings aren’t who you are. They’re trauma. They’re years of conditioning that taught you thinness meant worth, control meant virtue, and softness meant failure.

Your body is not disgusting. It’s healing.
The discomfort you feel is not proof that something’s wrong — it’s proof that your nervous system is still learning safety.

Let the feelings come, name them, and don’t act on them. Dress for comfort. Speak kindly. Keep eating.
Because the same body you hate today can become the one you feel at home in tomorrow. That’s not fantasy — that’s neuroplasticity.
And it’s coming, one act of compassion at a time.

5. Why do we stay stuck when we know the eating disorder is destroying us?

Katie asked what everyone in recovery eventually wonders: If I know this is hurting me, why do I still do it?

Because knowing isn’t rewiring.
Recovery doesn’t happen through information — it happens through repetition.

Your brain has linked nourishment, rest, and weight gain with danger.
So even when you know they’re good, your nervous system still reacts like you’re under threat.
Restriction isn’t about vanity — it’s about protection. It numbs, controls, distracts, and soothes pain you never learned to hold.

That’s why letting go feels impossible.
The eating disorder feels like safety — until you realise it’s a false kind.

The emptiness you fear when you let go isn’t a void.
It’s space — to feel, to connect, to live.
That’s where freedom starts.

6. How eating disorders affect relationships — and why you might not see it

One member shared that her husband often says the eating disorder “ruins things,” but she doesn’t see it that way.

Here’s the hard truth: when your brain is in survival mode, it can’t see beyond the rules, numbers, and control.
Your world shrinks — and you stop noticing how loud the ED has become to everyone else.

Your partner isn’t blaming you. He’s grieving the version of you he misses — the one who’s present, spontaneous, and connected.

You’re not selfish, sweetheart. You’re surviving. But part of recovery is learning to reconnect.
Start small: 15 minutes of ED-free time together. A hug. A walk. A “thank you for being here.”

You don’t have to fix everything overnight — just start letting love back in.
Healing your body will heal your relationships too.

7. Night-time hunger and the “f* it” feeling**

Katie shared that she often feels more able to eat at night — the “f*** it” moment that leads to guilt and urges to compensate the next day.

You’re not odd. You’re healing.

Night-time hunger is common. When you under-eat or hold back during the day, your body catches up when the world goes quiet. That “f*** it” moment is your survival brain saying, “I can’t do this restriction anymore.”

It’s not loss of control — it’s your body doing what it’s supposed to do.

Eat. Don’t compensate.
As your daytime portions increase and you include more energy-dense foods earlier, that nighttime intensity will soften — not because you’ve restricted, but because your body finally trusts you.

8. “My weight keeps going up even when I just look at food.”

Sue’s question was full of fear and honesty — and if you’ve ever panicked after seeing the scale jump, please read this carefully.

That increase isn’t “fat gain.” It’s glycogen, water, and healing.
When you’ve been restricting or using laxatives, your body is chronically dehydrated and under-fueled. The moment you feed it, it restores.
For every gram of glycogen you store, you hold about three to four grams of water. That’s not failure — it’s your body finally exhaling.

The panic that follows is the eating disorder reflex. The voice that screams danger! and pushes you back to control. But every time you resist — every time you keep eating, rest, and skip the laxatives — you are teaching your brain that safety lives in nourishment, not in control.

The weight will stabilise when your body feels safe again.
Until then, the only thing you need to do is keep going.

You are not doing it wrong. You are healing.

In Summary

This month’s questions touched the deepest layers of recovery — the fear, the grief, the guilt, and the exhaustion.
But underneath all of it is the same truth:
You are not broken. You are becoming free.

Recovery isn’t a straight line. It’s a series of brave, messy, imperfect choices — ones that say, “I’m choosing me, even when it hurts.”

And every single one of those choices counts.

I’m so proud of you.
Keep going. Keep trusting. Keep showing up.

With love,
Julia x