The quiet epidemic — why so many of us avoid treatment
Only 1 in 10 eating disorders sufferers receive treatment. Only 35% of these receive specialised treatment for eating disorders.
For many of us, seeking treatment feels like a distant option—something we know exists but never truly consider for ourselves. The vast majority of us never access specialised, professional care. Not because we don’t need it, but because the barriers—both external and internal—feel too high.
We worry about what treatment might take from us.
We fear what it might expose.
We wonder if we are sick enough to need it.
We question whether we even deserve it.
These fears are real. But so is the suffering of living without support. The average duration of an eating disorder is 10 years¹—a decade of living with a disorder that, in terms of disease impact, ranks worse than severe heart disease or chronic kidney failure².
1. The Fear of Losing Control & Self-Sufficiency
Many of us have built our lives around competence and self-reliance. Our careers, responsibilities, and ability to care for others define our worth. Taking time off—even for something as critical as our physical and mental health—can feel unthinkable in this context.
🔸 What if my boss finds out?
🔸 What if I can’t work?
🔸 What if I lose the financial stability I’ve worked so hard to build?
For those of us with anxiety around money—whether shaped by childhood experiences of financial insecurity or the present-day cost of living crisis—the idea of spending life savings (or worse, going into debt) can feel like an unbearable risk.
“My biggest fear was that my work might find out. My work was my life. If it crumbled, so would I. Without it, who would I be? What use would I be?”
At the same time, the disorder is already costing us much more than we realise.
Time lost to obsessive thoughts and behaviours.
Energy drained by the exhaustion of managing it alone.
Opportunities missed because fear dictated our choices.
The present moment—and the ability to experience true freedom and agency.
2. The Fear of Being Seen: Stigma, Shame & Denial
Many of us have spent years keeping our struggles hidden—perhaps even from ourselves.
🔸 We tell ourselves we’re fine because we can still function.
🔸 We convince ourselves it’s not that bad because we don’t look sick.
🔸 We avoid saying the words because once we do, they become real.
“I couldn’t even tell my therapist. The shame felt too much.”
For some, the fear is friends or family finding out. For others, it’s internalised stigma, repeating the messages we were raised with—that eating disorders are a failure of self-control.
“When my anorexia turned to bulimia in my early teens, my mum said me she had more respect for me when I was anorexic, at least then I had some self-control. It’s so long ago now, but I still carry this shame inside. ”
This kind of stigma is particularly harmful for those in higher-weight bodies, who often face barriers to even being diagnosed. Studies show that weight stigma not only prevents access to treatment but actually maintains eating disorders for those in larger bodies.
💡 Eating disorders thrive in secrecy. Naming them is one of the hardest but most powerful steps we can take.
3. The Fear of the Unknown — What Happens After Treatment?
For some of us, disordered eating has been part of our lives for so long that we may no longer remember what it's like to live without it, or even imagine what a recovered life could be.
🔸 How will I cope without this?
🔸 Who would I be without this?
🔸 Is recovery even possible for me?
Committing to recovery takes immense courage in the face of these fears. But you are worthy of recovery. You are stronger than you know. And you don’t have to do it alone.
“At first, my eating disorder felt like my only way to cope. Eventually, I saw it as a friend who helped me survive. Recovery showed me what real strength is—it showed me freedom.”
4. What If Recovery Was Possible Without Losing Everything?
Many of us resist treatment because we fear what it might take away—our structure, our identity, our ability to keep everything ‘together.’ But real recovery doesn’t mean losing control. It means gaining back what should have been ours all along.
At Ianthe House, we understand these fears because we’ve lived them. That’s why we built something different.
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—because stepping back doesn’t have to mean losing self-sufficiency.
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—we don’t have to hit rock bottom to deserve help.
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—even if we can’t yet see what healing might look like.
“Trust the process and don’t be scared. The group is such a lovely, safe space. You will get an incredibly rare opportunity to connect with other (amazing) women who truly understand.”
💡 We don’t have to choose between our future and our health and wellbeing.
⤷ Final Thought
We don’t have to wait for a crisis to deserve help.
We don’t have to lose everything to gain recovery.
We are not alone, and there is a way forward.
“Everybody’s so supportive of everybody else. It just feels like such a safe space. Even though some of the stuff that comes up is really heavy, I think it almost brings a lightness … we were just cracking jokes and talking about our dating tragedies! I wasn’t expecting for four out of six of us to be in sobriety recovery as well, and that also gave an instant connection.”
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Eddy, Kamryn T et al. “Recovery From Anorexia Nervosa and Bulimia Nervosa at 22-Year Follow-Up.” The Journal of clinical psychiatry vol. 78,2 (2017): 184-189. doi:10.4088/JCP.15m10393
van Hoeken D, Hoek HW. Review of the burden of eating disorders: mortality, disability, costs, quality of life, and family burden. Curr Opin Psychiatry. 2020 Nov;33(6):521-527. doi: 10.1097/YCO.0000000000000641. PMID: 32796186; PMCID: PMC7575017.
