Why Opening Up About an Eating Disorder Can Feel Like Losing Freedom

One of the first things people in eating disorder recovery are told is to “be honest” and “seek support.” That sounds simple, even therapeutic. But for many of us who have actually lived it, such advice can feel terrifying. Because honesty, in the world of eating disorders, does not always bring freedom; it can bring scrutiny. When you open up, you risk losing control—the very thing most people with eating disorders fear—not only over how others perceive you, but over how you are allowed to exist.

The Double Bind of Disclosure

When people talk about having illnesses like cancer or diabetes, or even addictions like alcohol dependence, they are often met with empathy and structured support. But eating disorders occupy an uncomfortable cultural space (Treasure, Duarte, & Schmidt, 2020).

They are both medical and moralized, visible yet invisible, and deeply intertwined with beauty standards, control, and identity. Unlike other addictions, you cannot “quit” food. You cannot avoid your trigger—you have to face it several times every single day. Medical stabilization alone also falls short; restoring weight or normalizing meals may heal the body, but hey rarely reach the deeper layers of fear, shame, and identity loss that fuel the disorder.

What appears as progress on the surface can still conceal an exhausting inner battle. And because eating disorders sit at the intersection of mental and cultural struggle, they often evoke reactions tied to body image, envy, or judgment: responses that can make honesty feel even riskier (Treasure, Duarte, & Schmidt, 2020).

Talk too much about eating, and people think you are criticizing how they eat. Talk about dieting, and they think you are promoting toxic beauty ideals. There is no middle ground, no winning, no “safe” way to discuss eating disorders. When you open up to others, you risk not just misunderstanding, but projection. Everyone has a relationship with food and body image, and your honesty can surface their own discomfort. Sometimes, people even weaponize that vulnerability.

When Support Turns Into Surveillance

Once you tell people about your eating disorder, you cannot untell them. Suddenly, every meal, every skipped snack, every rejected dessert, every body change becomes open for observation. For teens especially, this often means parental control: food monitoring, meal supervision, weight checks, and treatment threats. What is meant as protection can easily morph into policing. And paradoxically, that kind of surveillance can reinforce the very obsession recovery is supposed to reduce. Research shows that people with eating disorders often internalize shame and feel a heightened sense of being watched, which can worsen anxiety and secrecy (Levine & Smolak, 2020).

In treatment settings, many describe feeling like their bodies are no longer their own, that recovery becomes something done to them rather than with them (Levine & Smolak, 2020). Even after medical recovery, the scrutiny does not end. Those who appear “better” externally may still live with obsessive thoughts or body image distress. Others shift into different forms of disordered eating, or maintain a “healthy” body with a still-sick mind. And because the eating disorder is now part of your history, any behavior change—eating more, eating less, skipping a meal—becomes a red flag to others. You are no longer just a person eating; you are the person with an eating disorder eating.

The Weight of Being Seen

Many people in recovery say what they want most is to be treated normally again—to be seen beyond their diagnosis. But once you disclose, that normalcy becomes hard to reclaim. Friends may stop inviting you to meals, unsure what is “safe.” Some may walk on eggshells around you. Others might unconsciously judge your plate or body, assuming they are helping by noticing.

This blog is not to say people should not care, but how caring without understanding can feel like surveillance dressed as concern. And in a society already obsessed with appearance and control, that gaze can be suffocating.

Why Silence Feels Safer

For many, the fear of living under lifelong judgment and stigma reinforces secrecy—the very thing that sustains and fuels an eating disorder. When honesty leads to surveillance instead of understanding, silence becomes a form of self-protection. Remember that silence is not denial; it is a way to preserve autonomy. It is saying, I need to feel safe before I can be seen.

Creating Spaces for Safe Honesty

Therapy can be one of the few spaces where honesty does not equal loss of control, but only if it is with a specialist who understands eating disorders. A good therapist balances accountability with agency, curiosity with compassion. They help you explore your behaviors without moralizing them. Equally important is building relationships outside therapy that respect your privacy and boundaries. Recovery thrives not just on being watched, but on being trusted.

As clinicians and loved ones, we need to move away from a surveillance-based model of care and toward one that prioritizes collaboration, autonomy, and relational safety. Because true recovery is not compliance, it is connection. References

Levine, M. P., & Smolak, L. (2020). The Role of Shame in the Development and Treatment of Eating Disorders. Journal of Eating Disorders, 8(23).

Treasure, J., Duarte, T. A., & Schmidt, U. (2020). Eating Disorders. The Lancet, 395(10227), 899–911.