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Also known as the founder of Among the Trees Counseling & Wellness, South Carolina native, Vermont transplant, and most likely to pick a green slope (or skip the skiing altogether in favor of a maple creemee).
Four unexpected lessons from language learning that enhance my understanding of healing
As an eating disorder therapist, I never expected that fumbling through Spanish conjugations would remind me of some profound truths about eating disorder recovery. But as I’ve worked with clients navigating their own healing journeys while simultaneously butchering the “erre” sounds in my once-weekly Spanish class, I’ve noticed striking parallels between these two seemingly unrelated processes. Both require a particular kind of courage: a willingness to be imperfect, to stay present with discomfort, and to trust that growth happens in the trying, not in the perfection.
Research consistently shows us that self-compassion isn’t just a nice thing to have on board in learning a new skill or getting through a hard moment…it’s essential. Dr. Kristin Neff’s work demonstrates that people who treat themselves with kindness when they make mistakes are actually more motivated to improve and less likely to give up when facing challenges. In language learning specifically, studies published in the Journal of Educational Psychology found that students who practiced self-compassion showed greater resilience and were more willing to take risks with speaking practice.
I experienced this firsthand when I studied abroad in France in college: in a conversation about peanut butter and cheese (don’t ask), I asked something about “preservatifs,” which my host mother kindly explained is actually the word for “condoms.” Cool cool. Just last week, I mispronounced “año” (with the squiggle or “tilde”), the word for “year,” as “ano,” (without the tilde), which my teacher kindly let me know means “anus.” Okay! Substantial difference there!
There is a version of me that, given either of these mistakes, might have taken it as an opportunity for a good old fashioned shame spiral, convinced this gaff proved I was terrible at languages and should give it up. Instead, we laughed, I corrected myself, and I kept going. That moment of self-compassion created space for learning rather than shutting it down.
This mirrors what I see in eating disorder recovery every day. The clients who make the most progress aren’t those who never struggle. They’re the ones who’ve learned to respond to difficult moments with curiosity rather than criticism. When someone has a challenging day with food, instead of the familiar cascade of self-hatred, they might ask themselves: “What would I tell a friend in this situation?” Usually, it’s something much gentler and more helpful than their knee-jerk internal monologue.
Research on eating disorder recovery supports this too. Studies show that people who practice self-compassion after setbacks are more likely to get back on track quickly, while self-criticism tends to perpetuate the restrict-binge cycle. Self-compassion doesn’t mean lowering standards. It means creating the emotional safety necessary for growth.
There’s fascinating research in applied linguistics that reveals something counterintuitive about eating disorder recovery: making mistakes isn’t just inevitable, it’s necessary. Studies show that language learners who are willing to make errors in conversation develop fluency faster than those who avoid speaking until they feel “ready.” The brain literally needs to actively attempt and fail at producing language in order to strengthen neural pathways.
I learn this every time my Spanish teacher asks insists that we have an actual conversation. My grammar is atrocious – I literally only know present tense, my accent is questionable, and I’m never quite certain if I’m saying what I intend to be saying. But still, every now and then, something magical happens: she understands me anyway, we laugh together, and I leave that conversation more motivated to keep learning than months of perfect Duolingo lessons could ever make me feel.
The parallel to eating disorder recovery is striking. You can’t heal your relationship with food by thinking about it, reading about it, or planning for it perfectly. You have to actually eat – imperfectly, messily, sometimes uncomfortably. Research on exposure therapy shows that avoiding feared situations maintains anxiety, while gradual exposure with imperfect attempts reduces it over time.
Every “imperfect” meal, every snack eaten without perfect hunger cues, every social eating situation navigated with anxiety…these aren’t failures in recovery. They’re practice sessions. The trying itself is the progress, even when it feels clumsy or unsuccessful.
Language learning research reveals that proficiency develops in waves rather than straight lines. Linguists document “plateau periods” followed by sudden “breakthrough moments.” Learners often seem to stagnate for weeks or months before suddenly jumping to a new level of understanding. This isn’t a bug in the system; it’s a feature. The brain needs time to consolidate new information before it can integrate it smoothly.
My Spanish learning has looked exactly like this: weeks of struggling with vocabulary verbs, then suddenly feeling like the words are just there, in a memory bank that doesn’t require intentional retrieval but just exists as possible fodder for conversation. One day, I hope to recall months of feeling tongue-tied in conversations, only to realize I’ve just spent an hour discussing current events without consciously thinking about grammar rules. (Someday! 🤞)
Eating disorder recovery follows the same non-linear pattern, and research on behavior change and motivation more generally supports this. Studies show that most people experience multiple “lapses” during recovery, and these setbacks often precede significant breakthroughs. The people who succeed long-term aren’t those who never struggle; they’re those who learn to see temporary setbacks as part of the process rather than evidence of failure.
In my work with clients, I see this constantly. Someone might have weeks where eating feels natural and peaceful, followed by days where every meal requires negotiation. They might experience months of body image stability, then sudden periods of intense dissatisfaction. Learning Spanish reminds me to help clients recognize these plateaus and surges as normal parts of skill development, not signs that they’re “failing” at recovery.
Perhaps the most profound lesson came from recognizing that both language learning and eating disorder recovery require what I’ve come to think of as “imperfect presence,” that is, the willingness to show up authentically even when you don’t feel ready, skilled, or comfortable.
In my Spanish classes, that has meant answering even when I haven’t been sure of the answer, participating in conversation practice even when my accent makes me cringe, and asking for help when I am confused. The magic happens not in the moments when I get it right, but in the moments when I stay engaged despite getting it wrong.
Recovery asks for the same kind of imperfect presence. It means eating breakfast even when anxiety says no, engaging in social situations that involve food even when it feels overwhelming, and speaking up about your needs even when your voice shakes. It means wearing clothes that feel good instead of clothes that hide, and asking for support even when it feels vulnerable. As a client told me recently, “I went, and I was only a little bit weird.” Yes! 👏
Both journeys have taught me that mastery isn’t the goal – presence is. Fluency in Spanish means being able to communicate imperfectly but genuinely. And eating disorder recovery means being able to live imperfectly but fully. Both require the radical act of showing up as you are, not as you think you should be.
The most transformative moments in both my language learning and my own and my clients’ recovery journeys have happened in connection with others. Speaking Spanish with my kids, my husband, or a vendor in a tiny Costa Rican beach town, laughing with my tutor about my mistakes, joining group conversations even when I can only contribute a few words – these moments of imperfect connection have accelerated my learning more than any solo study session ever could.
Similarly, the clients who make the most progress in recovery are often those who’ve found ways to practice being human in relationship with others. Whether it’s eating meals with family, joining support groups, or simply being honest with a friend about their struggles, healing happens in the context of connection.
This makes sense when we consider that eating disorders often develop and are maintained through disconnection – from our bodies, our authentic experiences, and from others. Recovery, then, becomes a practice of reconnection, of learning to trust both our internal experiences and our relationships with others. (See this post for more on that!)
As I write this, I’m still learning Spanish, still making embarrassing mistakes, still having days when I feel like I’ll never be fluent. And my clients are still in recovery, still having challenging days with food, still learning to trust their bodies and their worth.
But we’re all learning something crucial: both processes are less about reaching a perfect destination and more about finding the courage to keep showing up, mistakes and all. Every mispronounced word, every imperfect meal, every moment of choosing vulnerability over safety – these are acts of profound courage.
Recovery, like learning a new language, is ultimately about expanding our capacity to be fully human in an imperfect world. Both teach us that growth happens not in spite of our struggles, but because of our willingness to stay present with them.
If you’re navigating eating disorder recovery and looking for support that honors both the messiness and the beauty of the healing process, working with an experienced eating disorder therapist can make all the difference. Recovery is possible, and you don’t have to figure it out alone. If you’re ready to begin your recovery journey, please reach out!
References
Burney, J., & Irwin, H. J. (2000). Shame and guilt in women with eating-disorder symptomatology. Journal of Clinical Psychology, 56(1), 51-61.
Jordan, J. V. (2001). A relational-cultural model: Healing through mutual empathy. Bulletin of the Menninger Clinic, 65(1), 92-103.
Maine, M. (2001). Body wars: Making peace with women’s bodies. Eating Disorders, 9(4), 1302-1317.
Miller, J. B. (1988). Connections, disconnections and violations. Work in Progress, No. 33. Wellesley, MA: Stone Center Working Paper Series.
Neff, K. D. (2003). Self-compassion: An alternative conceptualization of a healthy attitude toward oneself. Self and Identity, 2(2), 85-101.
Neff, K. D., & McGehee, P. (2010). Self-compassion and psychological resilience among adolescents and young adults. Self and Identity, 9(3), 225-240.
Tantillo, M. (2006). A relational approach to eating disorders multifamily therapy group: Moving from difference and disconnection to mutual empathy and empowerment. Families, Systems, & Health, 24(1), 82-106.
Tantillo, M., & Sanftner, J. (2010). Living the secret: A relational approach to eating disorders treatment and recovery. In M. Maine, B. H. McGilley, & D. W. Bunnell (Eds.), Treatment of eating disorders: Bridging the research-practice gap (pp. 99-116). Academic Press.
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