The Uncanny Similarities Between Eating Disorder Recovery and Making Bread
An attempt to bring some levity to the often daunting recovery process.
Me holding my first semi-successful loaf of homemade sourdough.
This past fall, I finally jumped on the sticky sourdough bandwagon so many endeavored at the peak of the pandemic.
Before attempting my starter (a mixture of flour and water that produces natural yeasts and serves as a leavening agent for baking bread), I thoroughly researched the whole bread-making process, which left me feeling both excited and apprehensive. Nonetheless, it was time to get my hands dirty.
It’s been about five months since I baked my first (dense as a brick) loaf, and I recently had this strange realization: making bread is wildly similar to my recovery from an eating disorder. The process has been messy, grueling, and frustrating yet also soothing, rewarding, and (deliciously) satisfying.
By no means do I want to undermine recovery — from any illness or addiction — by making this comparison.
But perhaps reading over the many parallels I’ve discovered between these two very different undertakings will help bring some levity to your recovery journey (or your quest to become an amateur baker — whichever resonates more with you).
Five Essential Ingredients for a Successful Recovery and Sourdough Loaf
After careful consideration, I’ve created a list of five critical components needed in both breadmaking and recovery from a treatable disorder or addiction.
#1. Attunement and Adaptation
In recovery
Just like most things in life, you need to advocate for yourself in recovery. As you go through the prescribed motions, take note of what works for you and what doesn’t. Everyone is different, and what may be an effective strategy or tool for one person may not be for another.
For example, one of my treatment team members suggested I disclose my eating disorder to everyone in my immediate family. Given the rocky dynamic and distant relationships I had with some of them, this didn’t sit well with me. After weeks of stressing about it, I explained to my provider that I didn’t see any clear benefit from sharing my illness with certain family members at this time. She supported that decision once she heard me out.
In bread-making
Likewise, I’ve learned there’s no foolproof recipe when it comes to bread-making. Even those with outstanding reviews may not be the most conducive for your environment.
One recipe I used highly stressed the importance of proofing your dough for an absolute minimum of six hours, though it could take up to 12. I followed protocol and left it for just over seven hours. To my dismay, my dough was over-proofed, and the result was “proof” of it.
A week later, I tried this same recipe and kept a close eye on my dough throughout the day. Five hours of proofing turned out to be perfect for the level of humidity and air temperature in my kitchen.
Image provided by the author. A photo of my super dense, over-proofed bread.
#2. Patience and Compassion
In recovery
I remember entering treatment for my eating disorder and thinking, “Okay, one or two months from now, I’ll be an entirely new woman — healed and whole again.” Boy was I ever wrong.
Through countless stumbles and various standstills, I had to learn the art of being patient and showing myself compassion. This didn’t come easily for somehow who was so naturally hard on herself, but realizing I gained absolutely nothing through self-degradation, I became more intentional about reframing negative thoughts and speaking compassionately toward myself.
In bread-making
Similarly, with making my own bread, I assumed I just had to follow a recipe to a tee, and I’d be golden. Three failed loaves later, I realized this wasn’t going to be a cakewalk.
But I persisted.
Okay, there may have been a few F-bombs here and there, but then I regrouped. I reflected on what could’ve gone wrong, reminded myself that these were very normal growing pains, and tried again.
The fourth time was a charm!
Image provided by the author. Fourth (and most successful) loaf.
#3. Prioritization and Commitment
Protect your recovery as if it’s the most precious thing in your life. Because it is.
In recovery
Choosing recovery is a fantastic first step. But you only get out of it what you’re willing to put into it.
This wasn’t an issue for me. I did all of my homework. I showed up and engaged in all of my sessions. I remained honest and communicative. I read books about others who’d recovered to keep my inspiration afloat.
But I was told my commitment to recovery wasn’t the norm. Unlike myself, a lot of people evolve their lives around family, school, careers, or aspirations. Helping them understand that, without recovery, all other aspects they hold dearly in life are under threat, can be a hard truth to grasp. But it’s a truth, nonetheless. You must protect your recovery as if it’s the most precious thing in your life. Because it is.
In bread-making
While I’m not about to place bread-making at the top of my life’s list of priorities, I also know it’s not something I can just half-ass and expect a decent result.
I need to adjust my schedule to accommodate feeding my starter. I need to time and track every step of the process.
For every corner I cut, my odds of producing a Paul Hollywood-approved loaf go down exponentially. I’d rather fully commit to the process and increase my odds of a satisfactory outcome than partially commit and wind up with a crusty cylinder of disappointment.
#4. Focus on the process, not the outcome
In recovery
Once you take the difficult steps of admitting you have a problem and seeking out help to make a change, it’s easy to tilt your head back, gaze up at the mountaintop, and get lost in the wonder of the summit.
Having a north star in recovery isn’t a bad thing, but placing too much attention on the unknown future detracts from all you can gain through the journey. By staying focused on the here and now, you’re more equipped to handle missteps or moments of hopelessness because you accept they’re part of the process. This also makes it so much easier to show yourself compassion and forgiveness so you can keep trekking forward toward that mountaintop.
In bread-making
Before even making a starter, I marveled over countless loaves of heavenly sourdough bread I saw while sifting through recipes online. I couldn’t wait for the day I’d open the oven to my own majestic beauty.
But after several mishaps, I became more entrenched in the bread-making process. In doing so, I felt so much more joy and connectivity to the craft. I took notes of what worked and what I thought I should do differently next time. If a loaf turned out sub-par, I accepted it, tried to learn from it, and still came out with some tasty croutons for soups and stews.
#5. Support and connection
In recovery
Recovering from a severe illness or addiction on your own is like free solo climbing a 1000-meter-high sheet of vertical rock: it may not be totally impossible, but your success rate goes up exponentially when you have some support.
For more than 13 years, I concealed my eating disorder, believing I could beat it on my own. Once I sought support from the recovery community and realized how immensely critical it was to my healing, I wished I’d have made the plunge to do so far sooner.
The camaraderie of my fellow eating disorder sufferers and the guidance from professionals who dedicated their lives to helping us catapulted me to a place of not only wanting to recover but believing I actually could.
In bread-making
One of the funnest parts about making bread has been the unexpected ways it’s connected me to others.
On top of sharing my homemade loaves with others (namely my husband, who also appreciates the art of fermentation), I’ve enjoyed learning from other amateur bakers online and even joined a Facebook group of local ladies who share a love for sourdough.
Don’t Forget to Add a Pinch of Lightheartedness
Anyone who’s gone through recovery knows what an arduous and emotional undertaking it is. Drawing the comparison to something as seemingly trivial as making bread may feel a tad insulting, especially for those who are just starting out or feeling some ambivalence about seeking a new life.
But I would argue that approaching recovery with pure austerity and not a semblance of lightheartedness is a recipe for burnout and irritation.
Yes, you should take recovery seriously. Yes, you should prioritize it above all else.
But sometimes simply seeing it as another one of life’s messy yet delectable adventures is the one missing ingredient you need to reach your full rising potential.
