"They Live Among Us"

From recent conversations with friends and family, I’ve concluded there are two clear camps when it comes to reading: those who live by James Joyce’s famous line, “life is too short to read a bad book,” and those — who seem to surround me — who will white-knuckle it right through to the bitter end. If you hadn’t surmised, I am a big DNF-er. I’m curious to know, where do you sit on this?

Another contentious topic that has become apparent to me is that of re-reading. It is nothing short of bemusing to me that one would not want to re-experience book that opened up so much joy for them. Though, this hill I so firmly stand on looks little more than a mole hill when I admit to my resolute stubborn perspective of rewatching a film. That's a hard pass from me.

There’s no question which book I’ve read the most in my life.

I have read the masterpiece that is Roald Dahl’s The Witches 15+ times. And if any season provides an excuse to do so again, I'd say it's October.

Below is one my favourite excerpts (which I hope you’ll enjoy too) and that prompted me to write this blog:

REAL WITCHES dress in ordinary clothes and look very much like ordinary women. They live in ordinary houses and they work in ORDINARY JOBS.

Kindly examine the picture opposite. Which lady is the witch? That is a difficult question, but it is one that every child must try to answer.

For all you know, a witch might be living next door to you right now.

Or she might be the woman with the bright eyes who sat opposite you on the bus this morning.

She might be the lady with the dazzling smile who offered you a sweet from a white paper bag in the street before lunch.

She might even --- and this will make you jump --- she might even be your lovely school-teacher who is reading these words to you at this very moment.

Superb, right?

But the reason I’ve shared that passage isn’t just so we can marvel in the pleasure of Roald Dahl’s literary genius. For me, it stands out as a fitting metaphor for restrictive eating disorders. Forget the witches and bear with me here...

Here is the reality that I am presented with on a daily basis in my coaching work:

People with eating disorders are not delinquents on the edge of society, nor are they hidden away in hospital wings. The vast majority are functioning members of our communities — friends, colleagues, loved ones — quietly carrying an exhausting struggle right under the noses of those around them. They are students, parents, business owners, teachers, lawyers… and so on. They are people who, so often, present to be just fine. People who visibly look well. People who travel, who create, who parent, run the house, interact, and all so often, who really, really excel.

Which brings me to the question at the heart of this post:

How Helpful Is the Phrase ‘Eating Disorder Kill’?

When eating disorders are discussed in public, they seem intrinsically attached to figures about mortality. This blog is not disputing or minimising that fact. Eating disorders do indeed have highest mortality rate of any psychiatric disorder (1). But I want to describe how this union of 'eating disorder' + 'likely death' is creating a vast grey area that is being grossly exploited by the illness.

So, whilst we can hold one reality - eating disorders do kill – I want to explore another truth. And this is one that I feel isn’t spoken about nearly enough: eating disorders don’t always kill. More often, they leave people alive but insidiously trapped. Functioning, but imprisoned. The heart still pumping. But the soul maimed.

In the following blog post, I want to highlight the vast gulf of experience that gets overlooked when quasi-recovery – a state of functioning and maintenance – is accepted to be ‘as good as it gets’.

This is the quieter, equally as insidious face of the illness. A half-life.

The Problem With the Narrative “Eating Disorders Kill”

When public narrative so closely associates eating disorders with a level of sickness so acute that one is at risk of dying, how does one feel when they are immensely struggling, but are not at this state of imminent peril? It is the people in this category (who perhaps either have made some brave progress, or who never fit into the narrow category of concern to begin with) who are abandoned of respectful support that allows them to reach full freedom.

The eating disorder itself seizes this narrative:

You’re not dying, it can’t be that bad.

You’re not underweight, so there’s no real urgency to change.

I see every single day how illness thrives in this grey area: someone may be technically ‘surviving’ but still bound by rules, compulsions, fears, and self-abandonment. Survival becomes the measuring stick, instead of genuine freedom, joy, or wellbeing. And when survival is considered ‘enough’, the urgency to pursue full recovery can feel weakened, unnecessary, and, for those who struggle with self-worth – overly indulgent to even desire.

But here’s the truth: not dying is not the point.

Existing vs True Living.

Oftentimes, the analogy of other ailment can be valuable to hold up as a comparison to recovery from an eating disorder. I think it's apt here too. I invite you to ponder how would you respond if somebody admitted the following experience to you:

I have an excruciating pain in my head from the moment I wake up to the moment I sleep. It leaves me impaired socially. I can’t live the life that I wish to. I fall asleep ridden with anxiety, knowing that waking up means I have to face it all over again. But…it’s not killing me, and it’s better than before, so hey, I’ll take it!

My bet it that you would respond with a strong assertion that not dying is not a reference point to be using as a yard stick.

Layers of the Quasi Onion

As I know you’ll already know, quasi-recovery is the space where the body may visually appear “better,” but the mind is still strongly tethered to the disorder. I believe that the stereotype of restrictive eating disorders — that they involve extreme restriction and visible emaciation — is entirely misrepresentative of reality. In truth, I think the vast majority of people are, unsuspected by those around them, suspended in the quasi stage.

It's worth noting, I believe, that there are varying degrees of quasi recovery that one can be in. Perhaps the presence of this spectrum underscores why it is often tremendously difficult to know how far your are through your healing pathway. 'Better than before' can represent progress and should be celebrated, but it can still feel like the absolute trenches of disorder.

To give insight to this spectrum, here's how Quasi may manifest:

Someone may be eating a bit more, but still calorie monitoring to maintain beneath a capped ceiling.

Or

Somebody might be eating a lot more, but still ignoring the tug of mental hunger.

Somebody might be eating nice sandwich, but only if it is self-prepared and with carefully selected sides.

Or

Somebody might be eating a delicious sandwich, but denying ensuing hunger through the afternoon thereafter.

Somebody may eat well, but avoid social gatherings when food is involved.

Or

Somebody might attend the social gatherings, but control their intake before, during or after the event.

Somebody may have stopped going to their home workout routines, but still compulsively walks.

Or

Somebody may have stopped compulsively walking, but still keeps relentlessly busy to meet lower level movement compulsion demands.

Somebody may goes to the party and eat the meal, but avoid the offered beverages.

Or

Somebody may go to the party and eat and drinks all that is offered, but can only do so having made permission for these via prior compensatory behaviours

Somebody may eats regularly, but still not intaking enough.

Or

Somebody may eats what appears to be a good intake in the day as a whole, but has done so by deferring their food to the end of the day.

As you see, there are tiers of this tightrope dance.

In essence, somebody in a pseudo recovery may appear “functional,” but inside their every decision is still filtered through the eating disorder’s rules. To varying degrees, it is a life of constant suspension, fear and management.

In my own recovery, this halfway house was the most acutely painful period of my entire life. I was internally riddled disorder, but outwardly, donned a mask of okay-ness. I did this so competently that not only did I trick others, but I also began to convince myself. I began to believe I was fine. I began to believe I could make a life here. I began to believe this was enough for me. I began to believe that this was more tolerable than what forging forward asked of me.

But this tenuous existence was recurrently punctuated by moments of extreme breakdown. Behind the facade, cognitive dissonance haunted me. Whenever I paused for long enough, I met with a sad truth: I was not living any sort of fulfilling life, nor feel any sort of close proximity to a full recovery. "Fine" was so far from the truth. And quite probably it was this lurking acknowledgement behind why I so rarely let myself slow down.

If you are here, I am so sorry. This place is truly beyond hell. 

What’s at Stake in Quasi-Recovery

What’s at stake in quasi-recovery isn’t just the risk of relapse due to neural pathways not truly rewiring to create new defaults. It’s the slow, quiet erosion of a full life. At risk is your:

Presence: in a conversation, a holiday, or a meal because part of your brain is always exhausted, calculating, worrying or controlling. Where plans often hold some degree of dread, micromanagement and anxiety, cancellations often hold ED relief, glee and reprieve.

Joy: is capped, as are opportunities for spontaneity and frivolity. Easy moments are off-limits if not tarnished, like unplanned ice cream runs with friends, cake being handed around the office, late-night pizza alongside a film.

Relationships: Since deeply connecting requires the energy, flexibility and tolerance, withdrawing from loved ones to some degree is so often an inevitability. Even those who you love dearly can become an irritant to the eating disorder's preferred quasi routine.

Potential: Ambitions and creativity are muted because so much mental space is taken up by food, exercise, and body thoughts.

Freedom of authentic choice: The simple ability to make choices — pertaining to food, rest, life— based on what you want and need, not what the eating disorder governs.

Time: spent on your terms, at your pace.

This is the cost of the half-life. A slow waning of vibrancy, connection, and freedom.

The Gap Between Surviving and Living

The difference between full recovery and (even the upper end) of quasi-recovery is so vast that I cannot describe. On the outside, it might look subtle, but inside, the shift is seismic.

Full recovery doesn’t just mean that you’re medically stable or “no longer in crisis.” It means:

·      Food is fuel, joy, and connection. No complication at all.

·      Movement is intuitive and joyful. Not compulsive or obligational.

·      Your worth is untied from your body, your weight & your performance.

·      You have authentic energy to laugh, to create, to work, to love.

·      Rest is permissible, easy and restorative.

·      Life feels expansive, not constrained.

It is life on your terms.

The gap is not measured in kilos or BMI. It’s measured in the space you reclaim for joy, intimacy, curiosity, and growth. It’s measured by the thoroughness of rewiring. And most notably, it is captured by the ability to look back at the end of a week, a year, or a decade and know that you truly lived — not just got through.

Conclusion

I do believe that narrative that “eating disorders kill” is important. But, I strongly believe it is not complete. If you are not on the brink of death with your eating disorder, I want to your hear this loud and clear: things are not “good enough.”

“Good enough” is not freedom.

“Good enough” is not joy.

“Good enough” is not the life you deserve.

I hope in time that the conversation about eating disorders can be shifted to reflect what’s really at stake: not just whether someone lives, but how fully they get to live. We must remember that above all: Recovery isn’t about just escaping death. It’s about reclaiming life.

But for now, we cannot wait for the societal narrative to shift. If you’re reading this and you feel caught in that limbo — physically surviving but mentally trapped — I want you to know that you deserve more. You don’t have to believe me on that, but before you so hastily dismiss it, I invite you to reflect on a quote I stumbled across recently:

“If you are trying to love yourself, you already do”.

Else, where do you think the "trying" comes from?

This is something I believe sincerely.

I know that your eating disorder will try to convince you that there’s no urgency if you’re not in crisis. But urgency isn’t only for survival. It’s about the days, weeks, and years of life that you don’t get back.

You are allowed to want a full life: one where you are free, present, and truly living. Please remember this if nothing else: not dying is not the same as living. And you do deserve more than half a life.

(1) https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC8429328