DISCLAIMER: Sexuality, as important as it can be, is often not a priority when you are still deep in the illness. This article is intended for those in the final phases of recovery or those with residual symptoms but whose condition is no longer life-threatening. If you are under medical supervision, please consult with your healthcare providers before making any decisions. Do not put yourself in danger, and remember that you have all the time in the world to explore these rich facets of life and of yourself!
Why do stars fall down from the sky
Every time you walk by?
Just like me, they long to be
Close to you
– Karen Carpenter
I watch them sit on the edge of the bed, their silhouette softened by the evening light. They don’t notice the quiet hunger in my gaze. We made love, and we might again—later or tomorrow. Ana is no longer here.
Ana — my anorexia — is the enemy sister who has accompanied me since childhood and who, for the longest time, prevented me from growing into a sexual being. Ana is the one I am defeating today by reclaiming what she deprived me of for years. She made me believe that the sharp press of my hip bones against denim was more gratifying than the warmth of gentle hands on my skin. She convinced me that my lips were a fortress—barred from food, from another’s kiss. Because, in her eyes, I didn’t deserve it. I was never enough.
Whether it’s anorexia or another eating disorder, these experiences can create obstacles to desire and to feeling connected—with yourself and with others. Desire, including sexual desire, is just one of many beautiful and valid ways to experience intimacy. This article is especially for those who want to reclaim that part of themselves—to reconnect with their sensual self and explore sexuality in a way that feels safe, joyful, and authentic.
If you are here today, wondering how to reach that precise moment when you too will be able to look at that special someone at the edge of the bed, I have some experiences and advice to share with you.
These are things that helped me personally, but they may not necessarily work for you—and that’s okay. I think that the most important thing in reclaiming your sexuality as someone who has faced an eating disorder is to progressively silence the inner voice that tells you that you are not worthy of desire, of being desired, or of discovering yourself as a sexual being. This process can be carried out in various ways, and differs according to each person and situation.
Reclaiming Passion: Your Right to Desire
Suffering from an eating disorder often means trying to exert more control over life. Eating disorders are a manifestation of deeper distress that goes far beyond simply “being picky with food.” Living that way often can feel like an attempt to become someone else, but healing is about slowly embracing who you truly are and allowing yourself to step fully into your own existence. I, too, have been in the process of healing: I know that constant voice that screams against yourself.
This voice, which you can slowly learn to silence, profoundly impacts your sexual life—leading to things like avoidance, physical pain during intimacy, and a distorted body image, all common consequences of eating disorders (see this research pieceexternal link, opens in a new tab for more).
However, today, as you read these lines, I am holding your hand to celebrate something important together: you want to embrace your desire. Reclaiming this part of yourself and your life can be a powerful milestone—so before anything else, I invite you to celebrate this victory with excitement and pride. You have a curiosity within you to see what this new existence of desire can offer you, and I feel sure you will find in it a source of confidence—within yourself, and with a partner.
Wanting to desire, wanting to reclaim the passionate individual that you are—you can be proud of that. You’re brave and courageous for this! As you surely know, recovering from an eating disorder is a journey. It’s normal for things not to change overnight. The same applies to rediscovering desire—it’s not a linear process. Some days, you may feel more confident, while on others, it might seem like you’ve taken three steps back. That’s completely normal. Both processes have different timelines and phases, so try not to feel too frustrated if things don’t progress as you expected.
My first question for you: wanting to explore yourself as a sexual being and to thrive in your sex life can be incredible, but is this the right time for you? I encourage you to reflect on whether this aspect of reclaiming yourself aligns with the other facets of your recovery. Do a little check-in with yourself. Do you feel physically okay enough? Also, take a moment to ask yourself if this desire is coming from within, or from societal expectations or a partner. Sexuality can be a beautiful part of existence, but it’s also one where self-care is essential. You deserve to experience it fully and without external pressure—first and foremost for yourself. Taking the leap can be the result of a long reflection process, or it can be an impulse you feel ready to follow—both are perfectly valid, as long as you feel good before, during, and after, because it’s something you truly want.
As someone living with the “extra” challenges of eating disorders, I invite you to read the advice in this article in the light of this particularity in your life: be extra patient with yourself, but also extra curious and excited to begin this journey! Unlike generic advice found online, which may not fully resonate with your experience, this guide acknowledges the complexities you face every day. And remember, if you are under medical supervision, your healthcare team can be an important source of support as you move through this process.
Some questions to ask yourself:
- Why now? Is it in sync with my recovery process? Could my medical team help me with this ?
- Am I truly the one making this decision?
- Is my desire influenced or dictated by an external factor or someone else?
- Do I genuinely feel ready?
- Am I physically healthy enough to take this step?
See also: The Sex Goddess Blues: Are You Ready For Partnered Sex? | Scarleteen
Creating a Safe Space, Emotionally and Physically
A fulfilling sex life requires openness—with yourself and with any sexual partners, emotionally as well as physically. Keep in mind that, as frustrating as it may sometimes feel, these steps require patience—with yourself and with a partner.
Emotional openness starts with reframing your thoughts, effective communication, and the gradual building of mutual trust.
When you see someone in the street, do you reduce them to their physical appearance? Isn’t the book they’re reading on the subway and their thoughts about it more interesting than their body shape or size? What music are they listening to through their headphones? Why are they so absorbed in their phone—are they having a stressful day?
As you begin to challenge the kinds of thoughts that distort your self-image, it’s also important to recognize that you, like others, are more than just the physical reflection staring back at you. Your worth extends far beyond the confines of your body, beyond the narrative that your eating disorder has written for you. You, too, are not “just” a body. And even less so, a body shaped by an eating disorder. You are not just a collection of calories or bodily attributes. Your partner does not see you as a number on a scale. They see you as a whole person they want to be intimate with.
Let the other person show you what they love about you, how they see you—you may be surprised to learn about what parts actually capture their attention, to find that they adore your long neck or your freckles, the mole on your shoulder or your knee. Often, it’s none of the things you might expect—and certainly not the ones your inner voice tries to make you hate.
Here’s a small exercise you can try alone or with someone you feel safe with:
- Make a list of the parts of your body you like the least.
- For each one, add a reason—independent of how they look—why you are actually glad to have that body part.
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Finally, add a statement about why you appreciate that part of your body.
For example: “I love my arms because they are strong and helped me move my friend’s heavy boxes. I love my round cheeks because everyone wants to pinch them.”
If you do this with a partner, you can add a neutral reason related to them, detached from just the way they look, such as: “I love my rounded shoulders because your head fits perfectly against them, like two Lego pieces.”
Desire is multifaceted, and the physical body, as well as what it looks like, is only one component of it. It is not “just” physical—in fact, sometimes it’s not physical at all. Desire also often involves a whole host of different things: memories from the whole of a life and from the people we feel it for, our emotional feelings, the way we want to connect with each other, and all of our senses, not just how things look. Physical desire isn’t just about how a body looks, either—it’s also deeply connected to how someone makes you feel through all your senses: their scent, the sound of their voice, the way they moan, the way they move, or how they inhabit the space around you. There are also as many types of desire as there are people in the world. What you love or dislike about yourself may be the exact opposite for someone else. Don’t close yourself off from discovering what that might be.
Seeing Yourself Through New Eyes
Wanting to hide your body and not wanting to be perceived are normal reactions when you have always struggled with poor body image. Ask yourself: Why do I feel bad about my body in the first place? Are these feelings rooted in society’s internalized standards? Comments from people around me?
To work through these fears, I suggest first learning to see yourself outside the lens of your ED: gradually, start observing yourself in a mirror. Each day or week, try removing one piece of clothing. Look at your reflection and focus on what you like—or what you could like—with a little self-compassion. Notice how soft your skin looks, how graceful your lines are. Try different positions and find one where you feel more attractive. It may not be easy at first and might take time, but try keeping your gaze on the mirror for a while—push yourself a little to become more familiar with the body you see. Let the thoughts flow without clinging to the negative ones. First, try to adopt a neutral stance, then gradually work to shift toward appreciation and self-love.
Once you gain a little more confidence in looking at yourself, take a picture so that later, when you look at it again, you remember that at that moment, you found yourself beautiful. Professional photoshoots or taking pictures with friends can also help; they can let you see that through someone else’s perspective and inspiration, you are not just the person who constantly judges themselves—you are an incredible human being.
A body that ticks the boxes of certain beauty standards is actually a prerequisite for… nothing. Would you even want someone to be with you or to have a sexuality with you “just”—or above all— for that? It’s important to break this false link between “body” and “the possibility of a physical connection with someone.” I assure you, the person who wants to be with you will not see your body as the deciding factor. This person probably wants to be close to you, feels the need to share a part of themselves with you because you make them feel good, and they also want to make you feel good.
Sharing intimacy is built on the very aspects of yourself that you might hesitate to reveal to others. What truly strengthens human bonds is the act of surrendering, of allowing yourself to share those vulnerable parts as well.
The voice of an eating disorder is always rooted in negativity and self-hatred, trying to keep you from embracing and experiencing what you could hold, cherish, and hug. In the process of reclaiming your intimacy and your desire, try to follow your instincts and sensuality, while also being mindful of how you speak to yourself. It might help to imagine that you are not you, but rather your best friend, your sibling, or someone you deeply care about. Would you want them to stand in front of a mirror and insult themselves? What would you say to them instead?
Believe me, I’ve been there. I know how difficult it is to be kind to yourself. Once, my mother asked me to write down three things I loved about myself, and it took me two weeks to complete the exercise. When she asked me the question, my mind went completely blank, quickly overrun with negative thoughts—the exact opposite of what I was supposed to do. Try not to get (too) angry with yourself. It’s a slow and difficult process, and you should be proud of every step along the way. What matters most is not achieving a perfect sense of self-love overnight, but rather reaching a point where your inner voice is significantly less cruel than it once was.
If learning to speak to yourself more kindly is a journey, I also encourage you to focus on the positive aspects of the sparks of desire you feel. Believe in your desire—it is valid and a strong, encouraging sign in your journey to reclaim your body. Nurture it. Tell it you want to help it grow and flourish, as if you were tending to a small fire, carefully feeding it with the best wood. Believe in your ability to feel all of this—that it won’t harm you. What you are feeling is incredible; it’s an invitation to live, to embrace all the possibilities your body and the world have to offer.
