I Never Felt Like Anyone’s First Choice

There is a part of recovery that doesn’t get spoken about enough. It’s not the food, the behaviours, or even the diagnosis. It’s the feeling underneath it all, the quiet, persistent sense that no matter what you do, you’re still not quite enough.

I remember what it felt like to constantly believe I could do better, be better, try harder, and fix more, yet still feel like I was falling short. I never quite felt like anyone’s first choice. I didn’t feel like I fully fit anywhere, and more often than not, I felt like no one really understood me. It’s a deeply lonely place to sit in.

When you feel like that, it’s no longer just about food. It becomes about worth, about belonging, and about whether you feel safe in who you are. When those things feel uncertain, the eating disorder, or the patterns around food, can begin to make sense. They can offer structure, certainty, and even a strange sense of comfort, despite the harm they cause.

One of the hardest parts of recovery is finding someone who truly understands. Not just in a clinical sense, but someone who really gets it. Someone you feel safe enough with to be honest, to let your guard down, and to not feel judged or like you are too much. If I’m honest, that kind of connection can be hard to find.

Finding someone you trust is even harder. Trust doesn’t come from qualifications alone or from someone saying the right things. It comes from consistency, from feeling seen, and from someone continuing to show up, even when things feel messy or stuck.

And when you do find that person, you tend to hold onto it. You lean in, because something in you recognises that this feels different.

I think sometimes parents, and even clients themselves, hope for a miracle. A quick shift, a breakthrough moment where everything suddenly makes sense and changes. But that’s not how this work usually looks.

I’m not a miracle worker, but I am consistent. I will sit with you in the hard moments, I will keep showing up, and I will help you make sense of what’s going on in a way that feels manageable and safe. Most importantly, I won’t give up on you.

Recovery isn’t about becoming a completely different person. It’s about slowly learning to see yourself differently. It’s about feeling a little safer, a little more understood, and gradually, a little more enough.

You may not walk away feeling like everything has changed overnight, but over time, you might begin to notice something subtle. You may find you are a little kinder to yourself, a little less driven by that constant feeling of not being good enough, and a little more able to sit with who you are.

Sometimes, it’s those quiet shifts that matter the most. That is where the real work happens. If you have ever felt like you weren’t understood, or like you were never quite anyone’s first choice, you are not alone.

You don’t have to keep doing this on your own.