From Fearing Food to Embracing it — Eating Disorder and OCD Recovery in the Kitchen

by Dayna Altman

Listen to Executive Director Gabriel Nathan read this post aloud:

My body is where it all began. A place of mistrust and shame. A place I was taught to keep small. A place I grew to hate more than anything else.

I learned from an early age that to be seen as beautiful, smart, loved, and successful as a human being, I had to be as small as possible. While this messaging initially focused on food and my body, it soon encompassed everything. I started to suppress my feelings to keep them small. I did my best to play my part in life and be who I needed to be within my family, but internally, I was struggling with an immense amount of sadness and shame, as it was clear to me that I would never be enough.

When I set foot on my college campus on the first day of freshman year, I still believed I could only survive by being small, but staying quiet in this new environment felt impossible. My emotions, anxiety, and tears took on a life of their own—crying in the dining hall or leaving classes early, unable to breathe, I was not functioning. I couldn’t imagine a world where I would ever feel relief until my friends from orientation brought me to the college counseling center. I then entered therapy for the first time.

I was diagnosed with major depression, generalized anxiety disorder, and an eating disorder. I didn’t know it then, but I also have OCD. My life as I knew it had come crashing down on me, and asking for help had now created a clear divide between my family and me. They were happy to keep up appearances, but I was now challenging that story. I was getting help, and I was no longer okay being quiet. Even all of these years later, my family continues to live on the surface, while I feel I have become embodied. This is something I have really come to value and can’t imagine my life without, despite missing fitting in with them sometimes.

Over the next several years, I would be in and out of psychiatric hospitals. From residential stays and day programs to an inpatient hospitalization when I felt my life was over, I didn’t know how to live outside those walls. I was good at following directions, and I was good at being a good patient, but I didn’t know who I was outside of that. I began to learn, though, thanks to Dena, my case manager in the hospital, who later became my therapist.

Dena continues to show me unconditional support, care, and a true belief in me that I have never had before. She was the one who helped me understand that I even had the option to transfer to a different college. I didn’t think I could ever walk back onto my original college campus without falling into a similar pattern. I was right, and I quickly found my footing and my place on the new campus. I began to learn how to manage my mental health and discover my voice. I also wanted to help others and make sure no one else felt as alone as I did. So, I started my first non-profit organization and created a platform to promote conversation about the pressures of diet culture and body positivity and acceptance. I began to find love for myself, my purpose, and I finally found health. Suddenly, I was not so afraid of my body.

During my fourth year (of five years) of college, everything felt normal. I was embracing recovery. I settled into managing my mental health and wanted to try something new, so I decided to study abroad. Going abroad and having the opportunity to experience a new culture was really interesting to me, so I signed up for a short program that felt doable and exciting. However, while I was studying abroad, I was sexually assaulted by someone I was traveling with.

Here I was again, my body at the center of trauma and shame, a place I knew I couldn’t really trust. I lost my voice; I didn’t know how to find it again. But once more, advocacy paved the way for me. I created a short documentary and a second organization dedicated to supporting survivors of sexual violence. I wanted to help people and advocate for those who, just like me once, did not know how to share their stories. A place that once felt the scariest, suddenly began to feel like home.

One year later, I graduated from college. This remains one of my biggest and most meaningful accomplishments, as I firmly believed it was a goal I could never reach. After that, I turned to work in Human Services as a residential counselor at the same hospital I was treated at when I was at my lowest. Of course, things continued to ebb and flow. As much as I thought “dealing with my mental health” was a box I had crossed off my to-do list, I am reminded every day that recovery is an active choice.

In the summer of 2017, I found myself at yet another crossroads. I was struggling deeply with depression, and I felt my progress begin to fade. I was living at my parents’ house and wasn’t sure where I saw myself going next. In the middle of my graduate school program studying Public Health, that summer, I got into a serious car accident. Without a car, my independence or any structure in my day-to-day life, I felt completely lost. That is when I turned to baking and exploring a new relationship with food. For my entire life up until this point, there was too much noise when I was in the kitchen. All the guilt and shame around food and my body overtook me every time I even thought about baking, so I just avoided it. Trapped in the house after my accident, though, I saw baking as my escape—my way of finding peace and contentment, and creating a lifeline for others. Standing side by side, as my friends and I baked together, and I poured my heart out to them, being honest and loud didn’t feel so scary. I didn’t have to be small here in the kitchen anymore.

Because of that hard summer of pain, togetherness, and baking, I had the idea to create a mental health cookbook, Bake It Till You Make it—a space for those in my community to share their mental health stories and recipes that are important to them. I truly believed that this book would be the beginning and the end. I was fulfilled as an author, but this idea and the inherent connection between mental health and food never left my mind or my heart. When the pandemic hit, I began hosting virtual workshops, where I shared my own mental health journey through using ingredients as metaphors. These virtual workshops evolved into in-person talks at high schools, colleges, libraries, senior centers—anywhere I could, I used my voice to make my experiences into a mental health resource for people. I was discovering myself in a new way, and I haven’t stopped since!

In 2022, I was invited to share my story and participate in the Youth Mental Health Action Forum at the White House—an initiative created by MTV and the Biden-Harris administration. This was not only a once-in-a-lifetime experience, but it changed the way I saw myself. This was when I truly started to believe in my abilities, and I was unstoppable. Soon after, I left my then job to pursue Bake It Till You Make It full-time.

It has not been an easy road by any means. There have been new treatments, heartbreaks, and many tears. I have faced ample rejection, been in a lot of therapy, and had moments of utter frustration and wanting to give up. And there have also been moments of real impact. My story has been shared with thousands of people across the world through my books, media projects, and presentations. I have helped people find their voice, just like I found mine. And this in itself continues to make me hopeful.

Today, as I reflect on all of the accomplishments, hardships, and changes I have experienced, I am most proud of my ability to find my way back to my body. I saw little Dayna go to a place where she found unbearable shame and greeted it with curiosity and love. I saw her trust herself enough to know that she is not her diagnosis. I am proud to be who I am. I am here in my body, with my strong voice, and not wanting to be small anymore.

​EXECUTIVE DIRECTOR / EDITOR: Gabriel Nathan | DESIGN: Leah Alexandra Goldstein | SITE ORIGINATOR: Bud Clayman