The Power of Canadian Penpals in My Eating Disorder Recovery
- Amy Killingbeck
- Apr 30
- 5 min read
Updated: May 8
I can’t quite pinpoint when it all started — the hatred towards myself and my body, the unparalleled self-loathing, and the unwavering desire to limit my food intake. But once I’d entered the world of disordered eating and everything that came with it, it became increasingly hard to leave.
The Truth Behind the Online World
The internet was both my biggest comfort and my biggest vice. As a teenager, battling hormones and living in a single-parent household, I spent most of my time squirrelled away in my bedroom, pretending to go to bed at 10pm, but really staying up until the early hours on my computer.
The dangers of connecting with people online (especially in the eating disorder world) are rife. Considering most eating disorders develop in adolescence, I was an easy target and easily influenced. In my adolescence, my searches online for eating disorder forums and communities revealed the good groups, the bad ones, and the truly ugly ones. The ones that reeled you into their world of counting calories (or not consuming any at all), of pinching 'belly fat', of excusing yourself from social events that involved food. The ones with tips and tricks of how to avoid eating and how to get ‘thinner’. The ones with people from all over the world ‘egging each other on’, pursuing what seemed like an aspirational shared goal. The lifestyle was completely romanticised, and I fell for it. I dived deeper and deeper, engaging in terrifying conversations and becoming a shadow of my former self.
I’d skip breakfast, turn up to school, and then college, with just a pack of snack-a-jacks and a cereal bar for lunch, and go home to a small healthy meal I could just about stomach. And then I’d go to my room and spend most evenings chatting in the forums, updating them on ‘how well’ my day had gone, eating-wise. Looking back, it’s hard to believe just how consumed I really was and how easy it was to get sucked into this new world.
And then I learned of people dying.
People who had been keen instigators in the groups. People who had posted every hour of the day. People who were ‘real people’ with their whole lives ahead of them. People who were ‘achieving’ with their eating disorders. People whom I had spoken to, engaged with, and looked up to. Gone. And it terrified me. Because I didn’t want to die. That wasn’t my goal. On one side of the coin, I wanted to look a certain way and feel a certain way, and a huge part of me was pulling me into continuing that particular life, but on the flip side, I wanted to be okay again. I wanted to be well. I wanted my life back.
A Stroke of Luck and Forging Friendships
Luckily for me, in a case of ‘right place, right time’, I was directed to a Canadian Facebook Eating Disorder Recovery Group that focused on exactly that — recovering. One of the girls from the most prominent online forum I was a part of had set it up, and slowly but surely, some of us started trickling over, leaving the dark side behind. We were from all over the world — the UK, Canada, America, Australia, and New Zealand, to name but a few.
It was never going to be easy, of course. None of us were there with this burning, unwavering desire to recover. And for me at least, a huge part of me wanted to continue restricting my calorie intake and watch the number reduce on the scales, but I also knew I had to try. So that’s exactly what I did.
At first, it was hard to share when I was struggling, but that’s what the group was for. So I shared the moments that I normally battled within my head, and I also shared my achievements. The meals I’d managed to keep down, the social events I’d managed to attend, the outfits I’d worn with pride, the weighing scales I’d thrown out or ignored. These were big milestones I wouldn’t have had anyone else to celebrate with, but I had my newfound friends online.
And it wasn’t just the Facebook group we communicated through. Some of us swapped details, including addresses, and pen pal relationships began. We wrote each other beautiful, long letters, adorned with positive stickers and sometimes a little thoughtful gift. We’d send long messages on Facebook Messenger, and we’d stay up talking late into the night, no longer solely about our eating disorders, but about our entire lives. One particular new close friend of mine lived in Ottawa, Canada, and we became each other’s reason for battling on and beating this thing that had consumed so much of our lives.
The Journey to Canada (and recovery)
So when I finished university at age 21 and decided to travel a little before settling down to find a job, there was no question that Canada would be part of that journey. I started in San Francisco, travelling around America via Greyhound buses with my ex-boyfriend, before heading across to Chicago and onto Toronto and Ontario. We had a stay lined up with someone from the group called Katy for a few nights in Guelph, and then further few nights in Ottawa with my close friend Tanya and her family.
In Guelph, we visited the grounds of the Eating Disorder Unit, where many members of the group had undergone treatment. Meeting Tanya in Ottawa was like meeting a long-lost best friend. We hugged each other tightly, laughed like we’d never laughed before, and stayed up late into the night chatting in person.
The night before I left, we arranged a pizza party at a restaurant in the city. Katy and another group member, called Amanda, joined us. We raised our pizza slices to the sky to ‘cheers’ ourselves, and we partied all night long, being young and wild and free — as we always should have been.
There were little blips, of course, over the next couple of years, but over twelve years on, I’m proud to say I have recovered from my eating disorder. It remains my solid view that I wouldn’t be the person I am today without my Canadian penpals. We haven’t spoken for years, but we’re connected on Facebook, and I often think of them fondly and am so proud of all they’ve achieved. Some of them now have families, Tanya has her own therapy clinic, and I’m a happy writer with a real love of food. And actually, a real love of myself, which forever seemed the most impossible goal.
This article has been sponsored by the Psychiatry Research Trust, who are dedicated to supporting young scientists in their groundbreaking research efforts within the field of mental health. If you wish to support their work, please consider donating.
