Pointers for improving media coverage of eating disorders & recovery

Pointers for journalists in advance of National Eating Disorders Awareness Week.

I follow media coverage of eating disorders closely — partly to stay abreast of new developments in the field but also to identify opportunities for improving the way we write and talk about eating disorders.

I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately, knowing that we’ll soon start seeing more eating disorder coverage in the lead-up to National Eating Disorders Awareness Week from Feb. 24 to March 2.

As someone who practices and teaches journalism, I like helping journalists tell more complete eating disorder narratives — ones that dispel common misconceptions and capture the complexities of recovery. In 2023, I wrote a story about this for Poynter.org and shared related tips. To summarize:

• Acknowledge the complexities of eating disorders — and the diverse array of people affected by them. They aren’t simply a “white teenage girl issue” — a long-held stereotype that has proven to be problematic for BIPOC seeking treatment.

• Approach questions with sensitivity by letting sources know that they have a say over how much, and what, they share.

• Understand that eating disorders aren’t just “women’s issues”; they also affect men and transgender people, who are often overlooked because they don’t fit the stereotypical mold of someone with an eating disorder.

• Be judicious when using details and descriptions so that your piece doesn’t end up being riddled with triggering language.

• Avoid sensational images (e.g. of emaciated individuals) and cliched stock photos (e.g. of scales and measuring tapes).

• Use person-first language, and watch out for warrior words (battled, fought, conquered, etc.) that lack originality and oversimplify the challenges of sickness and recovery.

• Explore the nuances and complexities of recovery.

I’ve been reflecting on this last point a lot over the past couple of years while reporting and writing my forthcoming book, Slip: Life in the Middle of Eating Disorder Recovery. As I explain in the book, I’ve often found that stories about eating disorders oversimplify the recovery process. Just recently, for instance, I came across a piece that spent several paragraphs detailing a woman’s struggles with anorexia and then abruptly transitioned to a paragraph about how the woman now lives with her family and is “serene” and “rosy-cheeked.”

This is a common structure in eating disorder narratives: a long description of one’s illness, immediately followed by a paragraph about how the person is now recovered. Every time, I’m left wondering: How did the person get from there to here?

Credit: Unsplash/Leon Seierlein

I don’t blame journalists for this approach; we live in a society that favors tidy endings, and we work in an industry that trains us to cover problems. We’re not trained to cover messy middles — all those in-between spots that so many people find themselves in as they work toward wellness. And I think that needs to change.

Years ago, I created a fellowship program that helped journalists take deep dives into how people and communities move forward in the aftermath of tragedy, trauma, and illness. My colleagues and I called these restorative narratives. Along the way, I learned that when we ignore the messiness of recovery from eating disorders (or any mental health disorder for that matter), we are more likely to gloss over hard truths. It’s easier to tell stories about people who “battled” an eating disorder and then “overcame” it than it is to tackle the complexities of the recovery process.

As journalists, we need to ask tough questions — not just about the problem (a disorder) but also about the progress that happens as people move away from illness and toward a fuller life. For many, the path of progress has no definitive end. And yet, a lot of eating disorder narratives make it seem as though recovery comes with ease, a well-paved path, and a crossable finish line.

I’ve interviewed people who have crossed that line into full recovery, and I know it’s possible. But the reality is, not everyone recovers, and many live in what I call “the middle place” — the liminal space between acute sickness and full recovery.

It’s a place where slips happen but progress is possible, a place where we’re forced to reckon with the reality that recovery is imperfect and unpredictable. For those of us in the middle place, the eating disorder remains a vulnerability that we need to pay attention to so that slips don’t turn into uncontrollable slides.

There are various ways that journalists can do a better job capturing this middle place and conveying hard truths about recovery. It’s a matter of reframing the way we have traditionally told stories and expanding our views on what it means to recover.

Here are seven related pointers for journalists/storytellers:

1.) Don’t assume that people are “fully recovered” just because they’re no longer acutely sick.

When I was acutely sick with anorexia nervosa in my early teens, my body looked unwell. Once I gained weight in treatment, some acquaintances told me they were happy that I had made a “full recovery,” not realizing that I still very much struggling. Just because I looked “healthy” didn’t mean that I was recovered. I remember feeling deeply misunderstood at the time.

Eating disorders are about so much more than food and weight, and recovery is about so much more than the number on a scale or the reflection in a mirror. As storytellers, we need to recognize this and not make assumptions that someone is recovered simply because of how they look, how they carry themselves, or where they’re at in life. Being a parent, for instance, isn’t necessarily a sign of recovery.

2.) Honor the language that sources prefer.

It’s important to honor the language that people use to describe their journeys, however far along they may be. When doing interviews for my book, I always asked: How would you like me to describe where you’re at in your journey?

Some people told me they were “still sick,” “currently struggling,” or “working toward recovery.” Others, who were in a better place, referred to themselves as “fully recovered” “recovered,” or “in remission.” Some (like me) preferred “in recovery” or “in the middle place,” both of which suggest an ongoingness.

In each case, I defaulted to the words that my sources preferred. Doing so enabled me to more accurately capture their stories, while showing the variety of ways that recovery can play out. When we expand our vocabulary for describing sickness and recovery, we can more openly talk about both.

3.) Ask: What’s one word you would use to describe your eating disorder, and one word you would use to describe your recovery?

I surveyed 716 people for my book and asked each respondent to share one word describing their disorder and one word describing their recovery (if applicable). I was so struck by their responses, which informed my thinking and writing.

Some described their eating disorder as persistent, toxic, depressing, all-consuming, pervasive, relentless, lethal, never-ending, and monstrous. Others described recovery as arduous, gradual, complicated, fraught, unacknowledged, transformational, foundational, fragile, and freeing.

Eating disorders are so often shrouded in silence and secrecy. The more we can create opportunities to help people put words to their experiences, the better our collective understanding of eating disorders will be.

4.) Ask the follow-up question: How would you define your own recovery?

In the eating disorder field, there seem to be as many definitions of recovery as there are studies about it. This leads a lot of people to be confused about what “full recovery” means and whether it’s attainable.

Of the roughly 170 people I interviewed for Slip, each person had a slightly different definition of recovery. I acknowledged this reality in the book and included various definitions, with hopes that they would show how recovery differs from person to person. I also interviewed clinicians and researchers to see how they define recovery so that I could better understand how the field’s definitions align (or in some cases misalign) with people’s lived experiences.

5.) Recognize that recovery isn’t always the result of a major turning point.

Over the years, many people have asked me: “What was the turning point that helped you get better?” I wish I could say that I took some magical right turn and left my disorder behind once and for all. But the truth is, there wasn’t a major turning point.

My recovery took shape slowly, through a series of slow crawls that turned into small steps. I’ve been in recovery for almost 25 years, and although I’ve made incredible progress, I still sometimes stumble.

As a society, we like to identify aha moments and breakthroughs, but in reality, life’s advances are usually the result of many tiny pivots rather than major turning points.

6.) Ask: Can you tell me about a time you slipped in your recovery?

During my reporting process, a well-intentioned person told me I shouldn’t title my book Slip because the word has a “negative connotation.” I understood what she meant, but I kindly explained: “Well, that’s the point! I want to help reduce the shame and stigma around this word.”

Slips are a natural part of the recovery process, and yet there is still a lot of stigma around admitting that you’ve slipped — especially if you’ve been in recovery but recently relapsed, or if you seem better but never really recovered in the first place. Asking people to share a time when they slipped is a way of acknowledging the imperfections of recovery. They may not want to share, in which case we need to respect their boundaries. But they may appreciate the question and welcome the opportunity to talk about slips. We won’t know if we don’t ask.

By shedding light on slips, journalists can tell more accurate and complete stories — ones that explore the messy middles that are so often missing from eating disorder narratives.

7.) Ask: Are there ever times when you still feel vulnerable in your recovery? If so, what does that vulnerability look like, and how do you navigate it?

I asked these questions during my interviews for two reasons: 1.) I wanted to learn from my sources’ responses, and 2.) I wanted to acknowledge that even people who are far along in recovery may still live with their disorder’s imprints. They may be tempted to fall back into old behaviors during stressful stretches, for instance, or they may still grapple with distorted thoughts that take up more mental space than they’d like.

Acknowledging these vulnerabilities makes recovery narratives more relatable and representative. And it helps us achieve a noble goal in journalism: making people feel seen and heard. This, in my mind, is one of the greatest measures of a story well told.

Feel free to share this related graphic:

I’d love to hear from you. Some questions to consider: What did you find helpful about this post? What questions did it raise for you? What tips, if any, would you add?

My book Slip: Life in the Middle of Eating Disorder Recovery is now available for pre-order! Pre-orders help expand a book's reach, and my hope is that this book reaches and helps as many people as possible. You can pre-order Slip wherever you buy books: