From Bullying to Recovery: Why Trusting the Process Feels Impossible — But Matters Most
- hdean1974
- Nov 13
- 2 min read
I hated school.Not in the casual, “ugh, Mondays” kind of way — but in the deep, gut-wrenching, “I can’t face another day of this” way.
I was bullied for how I looked. I was overweight, I had boobs early, and I got my period before most of the girls in my class. I remember sitting by my bedroom window in the middle of winter — the air icy, my body shivering — just to feel something different, something other than the dread of having to go back to school.
I didn’t have friends. I felt invisible until I was the punchline.
And like so many others who’ve been through that, I thought I’d found the answer. If I could just lose weight, everything would be better.
That thought became my world. It became the lens I saw everything through — my worth, my relationships, my safety. For the next fifteen years, my life was ruled by food, my body, and the constant, relentless internal war that never seemed to end.
It was exhausting — the planning, the guilt, the self-punishment, the endless fear of gaining weight. My relationships were unstable. I didn’t trust people, and I definitely didn’t trust myself.
No one around me could really understand how terrifying it felt to eat, or how impossible it seemed to believe I could be “okay” without controlling my body.
So when someone — a clinician, a parent, a partner — said, “You won’t get fat,” or “You can trust the process,” it didn’t land. How could it? They didn’t know what it felt like to live inside this fear.
And yet, that’s exactly what recovery asks of you — to trust. To let someone in, even when every part of you screams not to.
I get it. I’ve been there.And that’s why, when I tell you I have your back, I mean it.
When you’re afraid to eat, when you’re sure you’re “falling backwards,” when the old voices are loud — I’ll catch you. You can lean into that trust, even when you don’t fully believe it yet.
Because the truth is: you can’t do this alone. No one can.
Recovery isn’t about never feeling fear again. It’s about letting someone help you hold it.
And I promise — it’s worth it.







Comments