Jessie Diggins: Facing my Fears and Finding Recovery
**This guest blog was written by world-renowned athlete and eating disorder recovery advocate, Jessie Diggins. –revised/updated January 2026
I am sitting in the lobby of our hotel in Ulricehamn, Sweden, talking with a local newspaper journalist. We are mostly discussing ski racing. At some point, she asks me why I decided to share my history with an eating disorder. I knew she would ask, and I hoped she would.
Reporters often wonder why I would want to share something so personal. For me, the answer is simple. I want people who are struggling with disordered eating to know there is always hope. Recovery is not only possible. It is often closer than it feels.
Contrary to what it can seem like in the moment, you can survive without an eating disorder in professional sports. More than that, you can thrive. My story proves that the eating disorder I once relied on to try to race faster hurt my career in the short term. It did not ruin my life. In fact, my racing took off once I got healthy again.
The harder story to tell is what it was really like nine years ago, when I was too scared and ashamed to admit I had a problem at all.
Why Shame and Silence Make Recovery Harder
Is it not time for the shame, secrecy, and stigma surrounding eating disorders to disappear?
When you feel like you might be judged for having an eating disorder, you are much less likely to ask for help. Imagine if eating disorders were treated the same way as a broken wrist. You realize you are hurting. You ask for help. You receive medical care. You heal. It may take time. It may not be an instant fix. But there is no shame attached to getting better.
I share my history not only for the young athletes reading this and thinking, “That is me,” but also for parents, coaches, teammates, and friends who are trying to understand what it is actually like to live with an eating disorder. For anyone trying to build empathy and understand what is happening inside someone’s head, this is what was happening inside mine.
When Fear and Control Took Over
Sitting here today, my eating disorder feels like it happened in another lifetime. It is easy to forget how constant the panic, anxiety, fear, and shame once felt.
But when I think back to 2010, to the moment I picked up the phone to call The Emily Program and ask for treatment, it still feels vivid. It was the scariest thing in the world. It felt like my life could not go on without my eating disorder. At the same time, it could not go on with one either.
What shocked me was how quickly everything spiraled.
In my early high school years, I did not care much about how I looked. My daily uniform was baggy track pants, old race T-shirts, running shoes, and a hair tie on my wrist. Later, I began worrying that I would never look cool, pretty, or skinny enough. That alone made me a normal teenager.
The frightening part was how quickly those thoughts turned into behaviors. I started running after dinner even on days I had already trained. Certain foods became off-limits. Butter and salad dressing disappeared. Before I realized it, disordered habits had turned into a full eating disorder.
My thoughts shifted to believing I could not get through a week of training without it. Despite having lived eighteen years without an eating disorder, it suddenly felt like my future depended on it.
Fear of Recovery as an Athlete
I was scared that without my eating disorder I would gain weight, get slower, and never race fast again. I was scared I would not make the National Team. I was scared that going into treatment would mean I could not train enough. I worried that if my club team found out, I would be kicked off. I worried about how boys would see me. I worried even more that they would like me.
When you do not believe you are worthy of love, it becomes impossible to trust anyone who tries to offer it. I convinced myself that without my eating disorder, I was nobody.
What makes this especially painful is that only a year earlier I had been confident and optimistic about my future. Somewhere along the way, being “normal” became the unknown. I could not imagine how to live differently after treating my body the way I had.
I realized I needed more than good intentions. I needed professional help.
Taking the First Step Toward Treatment
Deciding to seek help is terrifying when you are inside an eating disorder. Part of you knows you cannot keep living that way. Another part hears the disorder insisting you are nothing without it.
Recovery requires facing those fears directly. It is hard, but it is worth it.
When I first walked through the doors of The Emily Program after making that phone call, I was struck by how warm and welcoming it felt. It did not feel like a doctor’s office. I never felt judged for needing to be there. I felt accepted as I was. That acceptance gave me the confidence to begin moving forward.
Healing Takes Time, Not Perfection
I quickly learned that recovery is not an overnight fix. There are no simple solutions. Healing means understanding why you are there in the first place.
For me, my eating disorder was not about food or weight. It was about perfectionism and believing I had to do everything at one hundred percent to be worthy of love. I had to learn that I was enough as I was before I could stop trying to control everything.
Recovery is a long process. There were days when I wondered if it was worth it. Facing old fears, challenging ingrained beliefs, and rebuilding trust with food and my body was exhausting. Over time, with strong support, things became easier. The setbacks grew farther apart. Life became fun again. My relationships deepened. I felt genuinely happy.
Fighting for myself in recovery has been the hardest work I have ever done. It has also been the most important.
A Message to Anyone Struggling
If you are struggling with an eating disorder, I promise you this. It does not have to be this way forever. It can get better. It will get better if you seek help.
Even if it feels impossible right now, recovery is worth it. Getting your life back is worth it.
— Jessie Diggins