By: Jason Wood, ANAD Director of Community Engagement
Recovery: Choosing My Own Acceptance
By: Jason Wood, ANAD Director of Community Engagement
As I sit down to write this, I am aware that there are people who look at my life and see a series of poor decisions. There are family members, former friends, and even total strangers who view me as inherently flawed or “less than” simply for existing as I am.
I will be the first to admit that I’ve made mistakes. I’ve stumbled, I’ve taken wrong turns, and I’ve exercised poor judgment just like anyone else. But I am so much more than my sexuality and my eating disorder. These two defining pillars of my struggle, the two things people judge me for most harshly, were never my choice to make.
I never chose to be gay. And I never chose to develop an eating disorder.
The Burden of the Mask
Coming to terms with my sexuality in my early twenties didn’t feel like a liberation; it felt like a sentence. I was immediately gripped by an internalized homophobia that made me feel embarrassed and ashamed of the man I was. Out of a desperate need for protection and a deep-seated sense of shame, I began to perform a version of myself that felt “safe.”
I took drastic, exhausting measures to stay hidden. I modulated my voice to sound more masculine in certain settings, particularly around other guys. I dimmed my personality to avoid drawing the wrong kind of attention. I weaved complex lies to prevent others from seeing the authentic me in fear of shattering relationships.
Hiding from my family was its own kind of hell, but it was a quiet one. It paled in comparison to the nightmare that unfolded when I finally stopped hiding. When they chose to ignore my relationship with my husband, Matt, and eventually cut all ties with me, the silence was deafening. They never responded to our save the dates and have yet to communicate with me almost a decade later. And those were cute save the dates with pictures of our pups!
So I ask: why would anyone “choose” a path that leads to the loss of their support system, their history, and their home?
Control in the Midst of Chaos
The pain of that rejection and the insecurity of living a double life fueled a different fire. I felt I had lost all agency over who I was and how the world saw me. In an attempt to reclaim some shred of power, I turned to my disordered relationship with diet and exercise.
If I couldn’t control my attractions or my family’s love, I could at least control the narrative through “discipline.” I became obsessed with rigid food rules, punishing workout routines, and the false high of perfectionism. What may have started as an innocent attempt to eat healthy quickly morphed into a fixation, an addiction of sorts. Orthorexia had officially entered the chat.
My eating disorder wasn’t about vanity; it was a desperate bid for autonomy in a life that felt like it was spinning out of control.
Finding Peace in the Uncontrollable
The early conversations with my therapist didn’t focus on “good” or “bad” foods. Heck, we barely even talked about my eating disorder. Instead, we focused on finding self-compassion and the acceptance that I am enough, perfectly imperfect just as I am. Together, we began to dismantle the lie of “choice,” allowing me to accept that there are fundamental parts of my identity and existence that are simply beyond my control.
Just as I view my eating disorder recovery as a lifelong journey, so is this path to self-acceptance regarding my sexuality. I’m still working on finding pride in being a queer man. I’m no longer ashamed of this part of me and feel more comfortable engaging with my fellow LGBTQ+ community members with each passing day. That said, I still calculate all possible outcomes in my head before disclosing my sexuality to new people.
I see a commonality there with disclosing my history with an eating disorder. When people ask me where I work or if I’m married, I have to decide whether it’s a safe space to disclose that, yes, I’ve had an eating disorder, and yes, I am married… married to my husband.
When you think about it, what I share today is my choice. The power is mine. While many in society may not understand that being gay or having an eating disorder is nothing to be ashamed of, I do.
I cannot control who I love, and I certainly cannot control the narrow lenses through which others choose to perceive me. Realizing this hasn’t been a defeat—it’s been my first real taste of freedom. I am no longer interested in performing for an audience that was never going to give me a standing ovation anyway. I am simply, finally, myself.
