This, of course, is not as simple as I may be making it sound. First, there are the barriers surrounding what should be the simple logistics of acquiring a therapist — even if you have the means, it’s a challenge to find a therapist that’s in-network or that you may feel is the right match for you. It’s a process of trial and error, and that in and of itself can be mentally and physically draining. For those who do not have the means, you’re likely left bargaining for sliding-scale rates or may have to settle for a professional who doesn’t specialize in eating disorder treatment. Perhaps you’ve opted to forego treatment altogether. So, there is a fundamental lack of accessible resources here that creates a truly surreal logistical barrier for those without the health insurance or financial means necessary to begin therapy. This is where those of us in privileged spaces must step up and speak out for those without the means we've either been born with or have worked to access. I propose donating to BIPOC therapy funds, volunteering with nonprofits and helplines that provide free mental health resources, and continuing to educate yourself on how to best elevate the voices of marginalized communities. It may not feel entirely simple, but few parts of lasting, meaningful recovery do.