Beyond Nutrition: Help Your Loved One “Make the World Bigger”

Eating disorders are tyrants.

Their relentless rules essentially take our loved ones hostage. The resulting malnutrition makes the brain increasingly rigid, hyper-focused, and risk-averse, until maintaining the illness becomes all-consuming. Our loved one’s world shrinks around it. 

For a time, this tyrant was invisible to me. My 14-year-old daughter looked as though she was thriving. Great grades. Tight-knit friend group. Eager to try new sports. 

On the surface, all seemed well.

But slowly, I began to see warning signs. My formerly sweat-averse daughter’s sudden fervor to join track seemed healthy, until her runs grew longer and odd injuries started popping up. I began to see less and less of her friends. When I did, the whole group seemed full of laughter, except for my child, quiet and somber in the background. 

She had a big snack after school, she told me, so she really wasn’t hungry for dinner. Again. 

All at once, I could see the monster in our midst.

The pediatrician directed us to the children’s hospital with dire warnings about the journey ahead. And when we were discharged, after two weeks of stabilization and Family-Based Treatment (FBT)  bootcamp, our psychologist put her hand heavily on my shoulder and offered one final directive: 

“Your job now is to make her world bigger.”

That line barely registered at the time. Leaving the hospital, I was as terrified as I had been when I first brought my baby home. 

When the Phrase Came Back to Me

The next chapter of our story is familiar to anyone who has encountered FBT. Meal by snack by ferociously-insisted-upon meal, we forged ahead.

Every expert I encountered assured me of one important truth: nourishment has to come first. Research supports what caregivers observe firsthand: physical recovery has to come before cognitive recovery. With full nourishment and time, our loved one’s thinking becomes clearer, their emotional range expands, and the rigid grip of the illness begins to loosen.

As our meal coaching and food plating continued, I began to see more and more of my child, in contrast to the flat mask of her illness. The depths of our food-based battles receded. On the good days, the tyrant only reigned during actual mealtimes. 

One day, her laugh returned, and it struck me breathless, realizing it had been ages since I’d heard that sound. 

By then it was a few weeks or months out of the hospital (time moved differently during refeeding), and the sound of her laughter brought the psychologist’s words back to me.

Make her world bigger.

I grabbed on to this as my parallel mission. The prime objective was to push forward with full nutrition and the extinction of eating disorder behaviors. But as time between meals lengthened, I tackled the work of reintroducing my daughter to herself.

And here’s what I came to understand that the experts didn’t spell out for me: the habits of a bigger life didn’t have to wait for her logical, cognitive thinking to come fully back online. The new hobbies and micro-adventures our family introduced throughout early recovery, afternoons spent doing something other than being sick, were more than simple distractions. They helped her build the scaffolding for a life beyond illness.

The world gets bigger with practice.

Yes, I had to overlook her lack of enthusiasm, just as I did with food. I began to ambush her with opportunities to engage with something new.

I’ll be honest. This was a “spaghetti at the wall” operation, as I tried to find ideas that would stick. It took a while to stumble on just a few options that caught her interest. Soul Collage may have been my favorite (not hers). Neither of us stuck with crochet. To this day, though, we love spending free days at used book stores together, searching for hidden gems.

For a couple of weeks, my daughter cared for Nolan, the terrified black and white foster kitten who needed to find his courage before he could be adopted out. 

Fun or flop, each effort beyond the plate-by-plate, life-stops-until-you-eat routine helped her practice flexibility, discover something about herself, and learn more tools to construct a life worth living. 

Some of the strategies below may sound frightfully obvious, but I remember the fatigue and brain fog of those early FBT days. So I’m laying it out the way I needed it then. Take what fits. Leave your own ideas in the comments.  

Just remember: the goal is a bigger, braver life, not necessarily a busier one. 

Take care of yourselves, caregivers.

Ideas for Making Their Worlds Bigger

A note before you begin: Start where your loved one actually is, not where you wish they were. Some of these ideas are for the couch days. Some are for later. Start somewhere and trust that something will stick.

Explore the World with Entertainment
The goal here is low-demand togetherness that invites a glimpse of the bigger world. 

• Build an always-inviting nest: a weighted blanket, favorite pillow, twinkle lights
• Start a puzzle table
• Leave out themed coloring books and colored pencils
• Binge-watch a TV series (my daughter still talks about old Amazing Race seasons)
• Travel down oddball YouTube rabbit holes: travel vlogs, pets, crafts
• Try a movie marathon organized around a theme 
• Add audiobooks to scenic drives or errand runs 
• Listen to quirky podcasts that might spark a new interest (history, science, true crime)
• Embrace board games or video games togethe

Try Values-Based World-Building

The eating disorder hollows out identity and bullies our loved ones into acting against their own values. This category is about rebuilding that interior life and reweaving the threads of who they are and what matters to them.

• Return to beloved locations from childhood (park, trail, coffee shop)
• Revisit a beloved book series or comfort movie
• Share family stories and photos
• Adopt grounding rituals (candle-lighting, gratitude sharing, a short evening walk)
• Attend a service, ceremony, or community gathering they once found meaningful
• Listen to a spiritual or meaningful podcast together
• Read or listen to something that speaks to identity and meaning 
• Serve your community: making cards for hospitalized kids (Cards for Hospitalized Kids accepts homemade cards), assembling care packages for a shelter, or volunteering through Doing Good Together 

Embrace Creativity 

Creative acts connect us to our inner voices and invite flexible thinking.

• Journal (freewrite or doodle or find prompts)
• Writing creatively (fan fiction, short stories, poetry, anything!)
• Create collage art from old magazines
• Try simple YouTube tutorials for watercolor or pastel art
• Buy diamond art or gem painting kits
• Take up embroidery or cross-stitch, especially kits with funny or snarky sayings
• Find a crochet or knitting class
• Try magnetic or blackout poetry
• When they’re ready for something more structured, look into community education art classes or local art store workshops. Many offer single-session options with low commitment. 

Reconnect with Nature

All living things eat, move, grow, and need care. Tending to animals and plants or observing the rhythms of natural life can quietly reorient a recovering mind toward a more compassionate relationship with bodies, hunger, and the world. 

• Set up a backyard bird feeder 
• Bird-watch from a window or porch with a simple field guide
• Care for houseplants or a small herb garden
• Set up a small fish tank together 
• Start a nature journal for your observations
• Visit adoptable pets at a shelter, no commitment required
• Foster kittens through a local animal shelter
• Volunteer for dog walking or animal socialization 
• Take scenic drives with windows down
• Try a foraging class or nature walk with a local naturalist
• Explore a new trail, beach, or natural area 
• Stargaze from the driveway with a free star map app

Micro Adventures and Expanding the Circle

Rebuild social confidence and remind your loved one that the world still holds people and experiences worth returning to. Encourage eye contact, small talk, and saying yes to invitations, even briefly. 

• Take a quest road trip (find the best bookstore, quirky museum, or park)
• Paint rocks to leave or create sidewalk chalk art at a local park 
• Take in community events (farmer’s markets, local music, theater)
• Encourage them to accept social invitations, even for part of the time
• Invite a friend to come to them when going out feels like too much
• Call with a relative or faraway friend 
• Write a letter or card to someone they miss
• Look into a class, club, or group activity aligned with a new interest 

Sarah Aadland is a caregiver, FEAST volunteer and writer. Previously a Program Director at Doing Good Together, she has spent years helping families build lives of meaning and connection.