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In the time of fad diets, calorie-free sweetener, and chaos, an eating disorder was born. Some days, it looked like the perfect romantic partner, supportive, seductive, mysterious. Somedays, it looked like the key to being a perfect person. Both were wrong; a cover-up for a monster that lures victims into a cold, lonely cave.
Untranslatable is the author’s account of recovering from her eating disorder, PTSD, and traumatic brain injury. It is not a phoenix rising from the ashes story. For Katherine Elizabeth Walsh, recovery feels more like being sent out into stormy water, in half a boat, that someone lit on fire, and the only oars are her limbs.
Recovery isn’t always graceful. It is often hard work and stumbling, wanting to give up. Not wanting to try one more time when the thing you are leaving felt so much safer, less ugly. Sometimes being in the mud is where you need to be. Sometimes one more try is exactly the thing that saves you.
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In the time of fad diets, calorie-free sweetener, and chaos, an eating disorder was born. Some days, it looked like the perfect romantic partner, supportive, seductive, mysterious. Somedays, it looked like the key to being a perfect person. Both were wrong; a cover-up for a monster that lures victims into a cold, lonely cave.
Untranslatable is the author’s account of recovering from her eating disorder, PTSD, and traumatic brain injury. It is not a phoenix rising from the ashes story. For Katherine Elizabeth Walsh, recovery feels more like being sent out into stormy water, in half a boat, that someone lit on fire, and the only oars are her limbs.
Recovery isn’t always graceful. It is often hard work and stumbling, wanting to give up. Not wanting to try one more time when the thing you are leaving felt so much safer, less ugly. Sometimes being in the mud is where you need to be. Sometimes one more try is exactly the thing that saves you.