In the complex landscape of eating disorder recovery, particularly when intersecting with neurodivergence, we often find ourselves hitting a wall where “standard” interventions seem to stall.
Recently, a profound theme has emerged in supervision: grief is often the missing piece.
For many clients, the struggle with sensory-based eating or “stuckness” in recovery isn’t just about food; it’s a deep-seated mourning for the neurotypical expectations they will never meet.
They are grieving for the bodies, brains, and social lives that don’t align with what they, or their families, once imagined. As practitioners, naming this grief explicitly can be transformative, moving the needle from a cycle of self-attack toward genuine self-acceptance, even when a client’s food repertoire remains “atypical.”
The Parallel Process: From “Fixer” to Witness
As clinicians, we aren’t just observing this grief; we are often caught in a parallel process that impacts our own well-being and efficacy. Just as our clients feel an immense pressure to conform to societal norms, we frequently place a heavy burden on ourselves to “fix” that pressure for them.
This creates a mirrored cycle of self-blame when progress feels slow. By recognising this dynamic, we can begin to loosen the grip of our own professional perfectionism. Our role is not to be the “fixer” who erases the reality of a client’s limitations, but rather to serve as a witness, guide, and collaborator.
Redefining Our Scope is vital to remember that grief work is firmly within the dietetic and health practitioner scope when it is framed around food, body image, neurotype, and life possibilities.
While we collaborate closely with mental health professionals, the work we do to deconstruct fatphobic and neurotypical expectations is, at its heart, a form of grief processing. By reframing these differences as neutral rather than failures, we help clients navigate the “limits to change” with compassion. Ultimately, acknowledging that certain supports or accommodations are a permanent necessity isn’t a sign of defeat; it is the foundational work required to build a life that actually fits the person living it.