Eating disorder recovery as an older adult

Growing old isn’t a privilege I take for granted, but it isn’t easy in today’s youth-obsessed world. When I was in my 40s, I heard, “The golden years aren’t so golden.” I vowed never to say that and, at age 69, I’ve kept that promise. This doesn’t mean, however, that I’m enjoying every aspect of the golden years. As already noted, growing old isn’t always easy.

Aging may be easier if I weren’t somewhat vain about my appearance.

Would the changes I’ve noticed in recent years bother me as much if I didn’t care as much? Would I care about the changes in my skin: the age spots that seem to multiply overnight, the new wrinkles, the random aches and pains? It’s hard to know, so I try not to spend too much time contemplating it. I know that I’m incredibly blessed to be healthy, even if I do look a bit older. In the grand scheme of life, I have nothing to complain about, so I try to honour my vow.

Despite my blessings, recovering from an eating disorder that was diagnosed shortly before I turned 65 has been a complicated yet positive experience.

The “typical” eating disorder patient, especially those diagnosed with anorexia, as I was, is thought of as young, female, thin and privileged. I feel very fortunate to have received any treatment, as many older people face hurdles due to health insurance coverage.

One thing I’ve learned throughout my treatment and recovery is that ED stereotypes are inaccurate. Those who have EDs come in all shapes, sizes, genders and ages. Eating disorders can affect anyone.

Older women living with an eating disorder for decades

The older women I’ve met who are recovering from EDs often have one thing in common besides their diagnosis, and that is they’ve been living with their ED for decades, usually thinking it was “normal” behaviour. Sometimes they received treatment as a teenager, but now their ED has resumed, or they never had a diagnosis until they were older.

It is heartbreaking that many of these women either feel that they are too old to recover or that they must live this way for the rest of their lives. There are women in their 70s and 80s who are still counting calories and living each day in fear of gaining weight. That is how relentless and tenacious EDs can be. 

I was one of those women. I was fully immersed in diet culture from a young age. My mother never dieted, but other women in my life did: my aunt, neighbours, women on television and in magazines.

I grew up thinking that dieting was what women had to do to be considered acceptable and attractive. I went on diets, took weird dietary supplements, and exercised to lose weight, all without objections from my mother. She clearly thought it was normal as well because she never questioned it.

As a parent, I avoided talking about anyone’s body negatively in front of my daughters, but I “watched my weight.” I didn’t follow fad diets, but did endorse the diet program I was on as “healthy” and “a lifestyle,” believing that it promoted healthy habits for life. I also allowed my daughters to follow that plan when they were in high school. This will always be my biggest regret as a mother. If I could do one thing differently, it would be that. (I try to give myself grace–after all, I had an eating disorder. I just didn’t know it.) Fortunately, they have not developed an ED, but have dealt with disordered eating and the influences of our thin-obsessed society, which I now view as a tragedy.

Older people who are suffering from or trying to recover from an ED may feel as though they are fighting an uphill battle. The pressure to be thin these days has increased, so why recover if it means gaining weight back? I’m not on social media, but the ads that pop up online while reading the news, for example, are aimed at older women. It’s as though they magically know my insecurities and are showing me how to “fix” myself. I don’t click on them, but they still worm their way into my psyche.

Which came first: my dissatisfaction with my wrinkles or the advertisement telling me I should erase them?

Society continually shifts the standards for how we should age, and advertisers are more than happy to keep pace.

Add all of that pressure to someone with an ED, and it makes aging exponentially more challenging.

I often wonder what my life would be like if I’d either never had an ED or if I had recovered when I was younger. Would growing older be easier? Would the wrinkles, age spots, and sagging skin be less bothersome? I’ll never know, of course, but part of me thinks it would be.

The tragedy is that society tells us we must be healthy so that we live longer, but we better not look older while we’re doing it. A while back, the phrase 60 is the new 40 was circulating. In one sense, it was liberating, implying that people in their 60s are as capable of doing things as those in their 40s, but it added a new type of pressure: to look 20 years younger as well. At one time, each generation wore a distinct style. It’s a positive change for people to wear whatever they want, but there was a certain comfort in being allowed to “dress your age” and, by extension, be your age.

Society teaches that age is a taboo topic, particularly for women. Men become more distinguished and respected as they age, but women are considered invisible and useless. While I’ve never agreed with that assessment, I’ve certainly lived it. I’ve never lied about my age or played the game of “How old do you think I am?” when asked my age. My age is my age, after all, but that doesn’t make me immune to society’s pressures.

For most of my adult life, people have said I look young for my age. I didn’t appreciate this in early adulthood, but as I grew older, I came to love it. It became an integral part of my identity, which I valued greatly. As a result of my ED, my slender body was often praised, and that became part of my identity as well. So, at age 64, when I began to restore weight and age (as one does!), the perceived loss of those two intertwined identities caused a bit of an identity crisis.

Who was I if I was no longer thin and young-looking? Society has equated thinness with youth, so what or who would I be without either of those things anymore?

I feel ashamed for caring about any of it at all, but I know I’m not alone. The highly successful weight loss and beauty industries prove my point, telling us we aren’t good enough the way we are and that only they can fix us.

It is never too late to turn the energy lost in pursuit of body image into freedom and positivity

During my recovery from anorexia nervosa, I’ve learned much about the diet, wellness, and beauty industries and how they can invade and steal our lives. I won’t be so bold as to say I’ve completely overcome that influence, but I continue to fight against it every day. As one of my daughters said, ‘Growing old isn’t a privilege that everyone has.’ I genuinely believe that, so I try to embrace the process instead of fearing it. I’ve learned to appreciate my life experiences because all of them, even the ED, have brought me to where I am today. Without recovering from an ED, I might still be deeply immersed in unhealthy, dangerous behaviours, unwittingly promoting toxic diet culture propaganda. 

When I think of the energy spent in the pursuit of controlling one’s body size, it is devastating. Take a moment to think about what could be achieved in this world without the scourge of eating disorders.

The time the ED took from me is not wasted if I can help a younger person avoid years of believing the lies that diet culture preaches. Those years are also not wasted if I can extend a hand to an older person who is struggling with an ED to let them know they are not alone, that they can live the rest of their life free of the constant chatter and criticism of the ED voice. It’s not easy, but it’s possible. It is worth it. I know this.