Eating Disorders Can Kill—And That’s the Truth
Let’s not sugarcoat it: eating disorders can kill you.
It’s not just a figure of speech or an exaggeration. Eating disorders have the highest mortality rate of any mental illness. Around 10% of people who struggle with one will eventually die from it. Sometimes it happens fast. Other times, it’s slow, painful, and incredibly cruel.
And if it doesn’t take your life physically, I can promise you—it’ll kill you emotionally. That’s a 100% guarantee.
Your dreams? Gone.
Your passion? Numb.
Your future? On pause.
You become a shell of the person you used to be, trapped in a cycle that never ends… unless you choose to end it.
Here’s the thing: the eating disorder will happily stay with you forever if you let it. It won’t pack up and leave on its own. You have to be the one to show it the door.
Trust me—it’s not worth holding on to. It never was.
Now, I’m not here pretending life is perfect now that I’m free from it. It’s not. But what is different is that I can finally face life head-on. I have clarity. I can feel again. I can deal with things without punishing my body or running from my emotions.
And I won’t lie—there were times I wanted to go back. Especially in the early stages of my recovery. That voice would whisper:
“Come on, just one last time. You know it’ll make you feel better.”
It was like this heavy monkey on my back, always tempting me.
Back then, I believed every word that voice said. I followed its lead without question. Now? I don’t give it that kind of power. I know it’s lying to me.
These days, that voice rarely shows up. But when it did in the beginning, I had to learn how to deal with it. The trick wasn’t to ignore it—because honestly, that just made it louder.
What helped was acknowledging it. I’d listen, and then I’d pause and ask myself:
“What’s really going on here? What am I trying to avoid or escape?”
Sometimes I’d have an answer. Sometimes I didn’t. But either way—I didn’t fall back into the eating disorder.
Because I can’t go back. Not physically, not emotionally.
My body wouldn’t survive another relapse. It’s already been through enough. And so have I.
The thing is, it’s so easy to slip back into the hole. And every time you do, you fall to your lowest point. You sink deeper, and deeper, and deeper—until eventually, one of two things happens:
- You die.
- You hit rock bottom and choose to fight your way out.
No one else can make that choice for you.
No one can save you.
Yes—people can support you, love you, guide you. But at the end of the day, you have to do the work.
Recovery was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.
Aside from being a mom, it’s also the thing I’m most proud of.
Was it easy? HELL NO.
Was it fun? Definitely not.
Did I want to quit? So many times.
But was it worth it?
HELL YES!!!
much love, kelly