PART ONE: Life After Recovery
PART ONE: Life After Recovery
What does it mean to "heal" or "recover"? How do we know we're well, and do we ever stop? In this mini-series, I'll reveal what I've learned from 19 years of therapy.
*12/1/2023 ADDENDUM* I have now officially given the keynote speech that I refer to below. You can watch the keynote on Youtube below if you’re a visual/audible consumer. If you prefer to read, you’re in the right place <3
I apologize for a week of absence here—I’ve been in the depths of writing and preparing for a keynote talk next week, and in doing so, I’ve had some profound epiphanies about wellness that I want to share with you, but I want to do it well. Not right—not perfectly—but well.
That means waiting until AFTER I’ve given this talk so I don’t reveal the contents of my speech, and slowly in small doses so I don’t overwhelm you.
So today, I’m introducing you to this concept that has been boiling under the surface all year, and one that has finally erupted in a surge of creativity and understanding that I wasn’t sure would ever come.
I believe it is fully relevant to this season’s topic: “Life After Recovery,” and if I’m honest, I think it encompasses every season we’ve traversed together this year. It truly feels like the culmination of all I’ve learned—both in 19 years of therapy, and the moments between.
I hope that in this small series you will find answers to the questions:
What happens after we “heal” or “recover?”
What happens after we go to eating disorder recovery, rehab, or get sober?
What happens after we move through trauma or grief?
What happens when we start to feel stable and still feel pain, fear, or uncertainty?
When have we arrived, and do we ever stop?
How do we know we’re well?
Next week, I will be giving a keynote speech at a wellness summit in Minnesota.
When they asked me to do this talk, I was like, “yeah, ok, um…what do you want me to talk about?”
“Just tell your story,” they said.
Ok, yeah cool cool…I thought. Just talk about being in therapy for 19 years…that’s a long fucking story.
I can’t take these poor people for an HOUR-long journey of my 19 years of therapy, I thought.
That would be depressing and overwhelming and truthfully, I’ve already lived it and don’t have a huge desire to RE-live it.
Re-living the past was my forté for years, and the only lesson I learned there was DON’T RE-LIVE THE PAST. It kept me stuck in what was, what could have been, and what never will be. All I have is this moment, and I’m steadfastly focused on living in it now that I finally want to be alive.
And truthfully, the story of what I learned from 19 years of therapy didn’t happen chronologically.
I didn’t get one lesson per year, I didn’t walk into my first therapy session at 15 and go “ok sir, I’m ready for lesson one: why do I have an eating disorder—” no! When I was hospitalized for my first suicide attempt years later and the psychiatrist on staff recommend I see a therapist after leaving I was like, “nah I’m fine.”
It took me almost ten years of therapy to even have buy-in.
For ten years, I believed I was an unsolvable puzzle that no one could understand, and even if they did, nothing would help.
I was wrong though.
I wasn’t an unsolvable puzzle. And when I let myself be seen, people understood me.
And not only did therapy help, it brought me to this moment right now, where I’m stable. Where I’m not a harm to myself and I no longer have symptoms that meet criteria for a mental health diagnosis.
Where I still get anxiety and wonder if I’ll ever love my body.
Where I still think about my ex and sometimes think about dying.
Where I’m messy and imperfect and unsure.
Where I’m alive, and I’m well.
So when I thought about how to tell my story in this talk, I started thinking about this concept of wellness.
About what happens after we do all this healing. What happens after we go to therapy for years and years? After we work through trauma or resolve our grief? After eating disorder treatment or rehab or getting sober? What happens then?
How do we know when we’re well?
What does it mean to “heal” or “recover”? How do we know when we’ve arrived, and do we ever stop?
Over the next four weeks, I’m going to share with you how I answered this question.
Because when I look collectively at everything I’ve learned in the last 19 years, both in and out of the therapy room, both in times of willingness and willfullness to change, four clear themes emerge.
Four clear indications of true wellness:
Belonging
Satisfaction
Acceptance
and Connection.
Over the next four weeks I’ll share in detail what each of these concepts mean, why we struggle with them, how they help us, and how to integrate them into our lives.
To join me, make sure you’re subscribed (button below).
Before we begin, I need to give you two disclaimers:
Number one, I am not a licensed therapist, coach, or medical professional. And while I have a master’s degree in mental health counseling, most of what I will be sharing is based on my lived experience. So take what resonates and leave the rest.
Second disclaimer, I will be talking about my experiences with suicide and an eating disorder. I believe in autonomy and respect boundaries, so if you’re not in the headspace to hear these kinds of stories I will not be offended if you can’t read them.
The flipside of that I will do my best to keep things light and humorous when I can.
I recently had a man who was reading my book say to me, “Rachel your book is so sad, promise me that it gets better!” I said to him, “well it’s a book about my mental illness, so not really the highest points of my life if you know what I mean.”
I think that he like many other people have been conditioned by stories to look for a happy ending. To trust that even if things start dark, they get light.
And while l I think that it’s important for us to have hope, especially when we’re in those darkest places, stories like these can harm us. They set us up to only look for a light at the end of the tunnel. To look for a happy ending.
So as I promised in my memoir, I will promise you here, not to sugarcoat anything. I promise to be honest about my experiences and about how I have found light by embracing the dark, and how the inclusion of the entire journey has created a sense of peace and stability.
Let’s begin.