From Shadows to Shakti: My Journey of Eating Disorder Recovery and Spiritual Awakening with Kali
January 9 2025
The path to recovery is rarely linear. It twists and turns, filled with moments of clarity and days of doubt. For 20 years, I was lost in the shadows of my eating disorder—a relentless cycle of control and chaos that left me disconnected from myself, my body, and my purpose. But through pain comes transformation, and today I find myself not just in recovery but on a spiritual journey that feels like a homecoming to my truest self.
And yet, today has been a harder day—a reminder that the spiritual path is far from linear.
The Challenging Days
I woke up feeling drained, my body heavy, my mind clouded with cravings and irritability. It’s as though my energy has been swallowed by some unseen weight. Thank God it’s a rest day here at Govardhan because even the smallest tasks have felt bigger than my body can handle. What could have been a productive day exploring the beauty of this sacred space turned into me lingering in my room with no pants on, feeling the pull of isolation.
I played the harmonium briefly and did some laundry by hand in a metal bucket—a minimalist adventure, as I’ve come to call it. But even those small acts left my wrist aching. The rest of the day was spent in my room, trying to recharge while wrestling with the voices of my eating disorder. They’ve been loud today—tempting, insistent, relentless. A part of me wanted to retreat home, craving the comfort foods I’ve left behind, even though I know they’re not the answer. It’s humbling how much the mind clings to the familiar, even when it’s not serving us.
I joined some of the girls for a walk to the front of the property this afternoon, which I’m grateful for. This group of friends has been such a solid support system here. We got to see some temples and parts of the village I didn’t even know existed from our little corner of the property. I was able to pick up some incense and spray to help mask the unpleasant smells lingering in my room from the sewage in the bathroom. Even though the company was lovely, I still found myself longing to retreat back to my room and be alone.
After the walk, I felt really hungry and even more triggered. I laid around, working on my blog but also dissociating a bit on my phone. There’s been an onslaught of wildfires in California, so close to where I used to live. It’s heartbreaking to see the destruction—the homes, belongings, and memories lost in an instant. My heart aches for my friends, family, and everyone affected.
I’ve always envisioned myself living in California, and a big part of my heart still resides there. The devastation makes me think about Kali Yuga, the age of destruction we’re living through. It’s so hard to make sense of it all because so much is hidden behind maya (illusion).
In satsang the other night, we spoke about how even maya serves God. She’s part of the divine play, just as we are. Maybe the key isn’t to escape maya but to turn closer and closer to God—Krishna, Kali, or whatever you call your source. That reflection inspired me to finish my poem, Divine Maya.
Later, I went to get something light for dinner to eat alongside my usual helping of papaya. Unfortunately, the men serving food gave me attitude right off the bat. When I asked for a to-go container, they began filling it without asking what I wanted. They weren’t clear on what was gluten-free and vegan and refused to give me extra veggies—even though that was all I requested.
Back in my room, I discovered that the cauliflower they served was coated in fried gluten—exactly what I was trying to avoid. So, not only was I given an attitude and skimped on the veggies, but their lack of clarity left me with food I couldn’t eat. It was upsetting and only added to the weight of the day.
Later that evening, I spoke briefly with Mara and decided to attend Radhika’s kirtan. The music was beautiful, and I stayed for just one song, but it started late. I left around 10 PM and walked back with Trish and Nicoletta, who showed me Nicoletta’s room. Holy moly—it was like a palace compared to mine.
It hit me how gross my living conditions really are. I’m a bit upset because I absolutely would have paid for a nicer room if I’d known the difference. They made it seem like the only upgrade was air conditioning, but it’s like night and day. By the time I got back and settled, it was nearly midnight before I finally fell asleep.
Listening to the Whisper Within
Recovery is about showing up for yourself, even when it feels impossible. Beneath the loud voices of my eating disorder is another, quieter voice—the one that led me here in the first place. That whisper reminds me that discomfort doesn’t mean I’m failing; it might mean I’m on the brink of something transformative.
Through yoga, I’ve begun to learn what it means to sit with discomfort. To stay. To honor the struggle as much as the progress. It’s not easy, but it’s necessary.
Kali Ma: The Catalyst for Transformation
In moments like these, I think of Kali. Her fierce, unapologetic energy feels like an anchor on days when I feel like giving up. Kali teaches me that destruction is not the end—it’s the clearing of what no longer serves us. When everything feels like it’s crumbling, I remind myself that she’s there, guiding me through the chaos toward something greater.
Recovery isn’t just about fighting my eating disorder. It’s about creating a new life, a new way of being. I’m not grieving the loss of what was; I’m learning to be excited about what will be. Even when the present feels unbearably hard, I know I am being held by something greater.
Recovery as a Spiritual Practice
Now, recovery is not just about the absence of disordered behaviors; it’s about presence. It’s about reconnecting to my body as a temple and treating it with respect. It’s about nourishing myself—not just with food, but with joy, connection, and creativity.
Each day is an opportunity to choose love over fear, surrender over control. But some days, like today, it feels harder to make that choice. And that’s okay. It’s all part of the process.
The Journey Continues
I’m choosing to believe that these moments of deep challenge are the birth pangs of growth, a call to shed the layers that no longer serve me. Trusting the divine feels difficult right now, but I know that surrender—however imperfect—is my path forward.
For now, I’ll sit with the discomfort. I’ll let the shadows teach me. And I’ll continue to place one foot in front of the other, trusting that every step—no matter how small—is sacred.
This is my story: one of recovery, rebirth, and spiritual awakening. It’s not a closed chapter but an ever-evolving process, just like my spiritual path.
For now, I’ll take it one breath, one step, one moment at a time.
Until next time,
Eve AKA Kali Grayce
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