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I'm All Better Now: Moving Through My Accidental Eating Disorder
What began as a quest to solve persistent digestive issues morphed into a battle of body and mind as the experiment evolved into a raging eating disorder that went much deeper than body image issues.
The resulting drive to achieve the elusive standard of “clean” eating and burn away every calorie consumed eventually became the entirety of Tari’s existence. She hovered between life and death, shrouded in the distorted perceptions of a malnourished mind.
Her grip on sanity was tested when she found herself trapped inside the walls of Unnamed Treatment Center where she alternated between black-outs and forced singing, which led her to face far more than the numbers on a scale.
In Tari’s unique voice, her story unfolds with unflinching transparency, irreverence, and a bit of a wink as she acknowledges the absurdity in the dark side of her experience.
In this raw and courageous memoir about anorexia, orthorexia, and body dysmorphia, Tari’s journey reveals her experience
The dark side of recovery and treatment centersThe life-absorbing roller coaster of living with and fighting an eating disorderThe resilience of the human spiritThe hope and inspiration that comes from believing in your own capacity for healing and transformationI’m All Better Now disrupts common thoughts and assumptions about eating disorders and the standard treatment of them through brutally honest storytelling, observation, and reflection.
Laced with sarcastic humor, Tari’s unique voice give readers a fresh view into the reality of what it means to lose oneself completely and the will to survive and transform.
The resulting drive to achieve the elusive standard of “clean” eating and burn away every calorie consumed eventually became the entirety of Tari’s existence. She hovered between life and death, shrouded in the distorted perceptions of a malnourished mind.
Her grip on sanity was tested when she found herself trapped inside the walls of Unnamed Treatment Center where she alternated between black-outs and forced singing, which led her to face far more than the numbers on a scale.
In Tari’s unique voice, her story unfolds with unflinching transparency, irreverence, and a bit of a wink as she acknowledges the absurdity in the dark side of her experience.
In this raw and courageous memoir about anorexia, orthorexia, and body dysmorphia, Tari’s journey reveals her experience
The dark side of recovery and treatment centersThe life-absorbing roller coaster of living with and fighting an eating disorderThe resilience of the human spiritThe hope and inspiration that comes from believing in your own capacity for healing and transformationI’m All Better Now disrupts common thoughts and assumptions about eating disorders and the standard treatment of them through brutally honest storytelling, observation, and reflection.
Laced with sarcastic humor, Tari’s unique voice give readers a fresh view into the reality of what it means to lose oneself completely and the will to survive and transform.
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Published September 24, 2024
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Displaying 1 - 6 of 6 reviews
December 22, 2024
Food and family. I have yet to find the reason those two positive fundamentals of my world became distorted. (pg 29)
Tari Johnson’s “I’m All Better Now: Moving Through My Accidental Eating Disorder” is a powerful and honest memoir about battling eating disorders and learning what it means to heal.
Weaving together the past and the present, Johnson illustrates how she went from a childhood that taught her that food can bring a family together to an adult tormented by calories and food rituals. She creates a narrative patchwork, using scenes from her childhood and her adult life to tell the story, rather than focusing on a linear, chronological narrative. This gives her the freedom to reflect on these memories, fleshing out the memoir’s introspective tone.
The latter half or so of the book details her time at the Unnamed Treatment Center, which is again interspersed with scenes from her childhood, or her adult life with her children. This section of the memoir is the most harrowing, displaying the dangerous line that centers like these toe between treatment and abuse. Invoking Girl, Interrupted, Johnson writes about her battle to navigate the intentionally confusing bureaucracy and cruel healing programs of the center. She writes vividly about the people she meets there, each fellow patient described with care and the sharp detail characteristic of her writing.
The memoir ends with a reflection on her time at the center, the road she found herself on to get there, and the slow and often rocky process of healing. Johnson closes with a message of hope, but she doesn’t sugarcoat it–she acknowledges that she has been changed by this experience, but people are not static–she will change again, and it will be for the better.
Throughout the memoir, Johnson delivers both harrowing and hopeful anecdotes from her journey with a distinct witty tone that endears her to the reader. She is someone you can connect with; her conversational tone makes the book feel intimate. Opening “I’m All Better Now” feels less like opening a book and more like answering a phone call from a close friend.
Although much of the book deals with heavy subject matter, Johnson’s voice keeps it from being overwhelming; her humor shines through the dark, balancing the pain with a little lightness. Because, as we see in Johnson’s memoir, pain and hope are not separate entities; they coexist, and that coexistence is what helps her escape from the harm of the center.
Johnson writes with unflinching authenticity, delivering a powerful and visceral emotional experience. She not only examines what’s going on around her, leaving no detail unwritten, but she also examines what’s going on within her, leaving out nothing, even if it’s not the most flattering. She’s honest with herself, making her a trustworthy narrator, and someone the reader will care about and feel for.
While some of her tangential asides are a little distracting–some feel more untethered to the narrative than others–they’re always delightful, pulling the reader for a moment out of an intense scene with a little lightheartedness. They almost function like a rest in music, giving the reader a little break, allowing us to breathe, and making us feel closer to Johnson as she draws again on that conversational, friendly tone.
There was one out-of-tune note in the otherwise cohesive symphony of her writing voice. Her tone is very earnest, and she comes across as sincere. The memoir’s policy seems to be honesty at all costs, no matter the pain it may cause or the portrait it may paint. So, when the reader reaches the end of nearly every present-day chapter, and reads that snippet’s iteration of “but I’m all better now,” it seems almost like false assurance. Usually, it’s preceded by an admission of a step backward in recovery, or of an act similar to her damaging habits, so on the surface, it’s easy to read this statement as glib or dishonest.
However, I think it goes deeper than that. I think Johnson is inviting us, true to her hold-nothing-back ways, to step inside the journey of healing with her and really see why healing is described as nonlinear. Johnson’s consciousness of this concept pervades the memoir; she shows the stranglehold that mental illness and eating disorders/disordered eating can have on a person, and her whole story is a testament to the difficulty of trying to overcome that.
They also serve to show just how interior we are as people; even if you as a reader have struggled with the same things that she has in this memoir, your experience of it will never be her experience. But the way she writes about her experience–with no shame about reverting to an old habit, with an acceptance that some habits are harder to break than others–makes it universal. Anyone who has had to heal from something difficult, be it mental or physical, will recognize in her words an echo of their own experience.
Maybe her assurances that she’s all better now are not assurances–maybe they are simple statements, because sometimes, a victory may not seem like a victory until you look back on how far you’ve come.
Tari Johnson’s “I’m All Better Now: Moving Through My Accidental Eating Disorder” is a powerful and honest memoir about battling eating disorders and learning what it means to heal.
Weaving together the past and the present, Johnson illustrates how she went from a childhood that taught her that food can bring a family together to an adult tormented by calories and food rituals. She creates a narrative patchwork, using scenes from her childhood and her adult life to tell the story, rather than focusing on a linear, chronological narrative. This gives her the freedom to reflect on these memories, fleshing out the memoir’s introspective tone.
The latter half or so of the book details her time at the Unnamed Treatment Center, which is again interspersed with scenes from her childhood, or her adult life with her children. This section of the memoir is the most harrowing, displaying the dangerous line that centers like these toe between treatment and abuse. Invoking Girl, Interrupted, Johnson writes about her battle to navigate the intentionally confusing bureaucracy and cruel healing programs of the center. She writes vividly about the people she meets there, each fellow patient described with care and the sharp detail characteristic of her writing.
The memoir ends with a reflection on her time at the center, the road she found herself on to get there, and the slow and often rocky process of healing. Johnson closes with a message of hope, but she doesn’t sugarcoat it–she acknowledges that she has been changed by this experience, but people are not static–she will change again, and it will be for the better.
Throughout the memoir, Johnson delivers both harrowing and hopeful anecdotes from her journey with a distinct witty tone that endears her to the reader. She is someone you can connect with; her conversational tone makes the book feel intimate. Opening “I’m All Better Now” feels less like opening a book and more like answering a phone call from a close friend.
Although much of the book deals with heavy subject matter, Johnson’s voice keeps it from being overwhelming; her humor shines through the dark, balancing the pain with a little lightness. Because, as we see in Johnson’s memoir, pain and hope are not separate entities; they coexist, and that coexistence is what helps her escape from the harm of the center.
Johnson writes with unflinching authenticity, delivering a powerful and visceral emotional experience. She not only examines what’s going on around her, leaving no detail unwritten, but she also examines what’s going on within her, leaving out nothing, even if it’s not the most flattering. She’s honest with herself, making her a trustworthy narrator, and someone the reader will care about and feel for.
While some of her tangential asides are a little distracting–some feel more untethered to the narrative than others–they’re always delightful, pulling the reader for a moment out of an intense scene with a little lightheartedness. They almost function like a rest in music, giving the reader a little break, allowing us to breathe, and making us feel closer to Johnson as she draws again on that conversational, friendly tone.
There was one out-of-tune note in the otherwise cohesive symphony of her writing voice. Her tone is very earnest, and she comes across as sincere. The memoir’s policy seems to be honesty at all costs, no matter the pain it may cause or the portrait it may paint. So, when the reader reaches the end of nearly every present-day chapter, and reads that snippet’s iteration of “but I’m all better now,” it seems almost like false assurance. Usually, it’s preceded by an admission of a step backward in recovery, or of an act similar to her damaging habits, so on the surface, it’s easy to read this statement as glib or dishonest.
However, I think it goes deeper than that. I think Johnson is inviting us, true to her hold-nothing-back ways, to step inside the journey of healing with her and really see why healing is described as nonlinear. Johnson’s consciousness of this concept pervades the memoir; she shows the stranglehold that mental illness and eating disorders/disordered eating can have on a person, and her whole story is a testament to the difficulty of trying to overcome that.
They also serve to show just how interior we are as people; even if you as a reader have struggled with the same things that she has in this memoir, your experience of it will never be her experience. But the way she writes about her experience–with no shame about reverting to an old habit, with an acceptance that some habits are harder to break than others–makes it universal. Anyone who has had to heal from something difficult, be it mental or physical, will recognize in her words an echo of their own experience.
Maybe her assurances that she’s all better now are not assurances–maybe they are simple statements, because sometimes, a victory may not seem like a victory until you look back on how far you’ve come.
February 15, 2025
Tari Johnson’s I’M ALL BETTER NOW: Moving Through My Accidental Eating Disorder is many things. First, it powerfully details Tari’s struggles with eating disorders. Second, it sheds light on troubling issues within health facilities. Third, it tells a moving story about a family that provided support, unconditional love, and much more to their loved one in need.
Tari’s transparency is powerful, the first thing the dear reader will notice, as she burrows deep into her struggles with the usual challenges life often throws our way, and more so her struggles to become better. Throughout this emotive memoir, her simple evocative prose helps immerse the reader in her sad yet inspiring story. In the beginning, she delves into why most people wouldn’t want to talk about numbers. “Numbers on a scale, numbers of miles run, calorie counting, number of times an obsessive-compulsive ritual needs to be performed . . .,” and this drew me to her story, for I realize some truth in what she’s saying.
Another compelling aspect of Tari’s writing is her voice, which carries with it a certain degree of melancholy, frankness, and a little more of something else. For instance, she writes: “I guess I’ll start by giving you a bit of my history. It’s logical and something that a person whose brain is working properly does. Mine functions better now. I’m sure of it. I have nutrients coursing through my body these days, so yeah, I’m thinking clearly now. I’ll prove it.”
On page 87, Tari breaks my heart with a situation many of us can relate to. Her health has deteriorated, yet she cannot admit it—not to anyone, not even to herself. She feels pressured to finish a project and provide for her children, convinced that pressing the stop button isn’t an option. I can easily envision a concerned colleague urging Tari to seek help, tears in her eyes, as it becomes clear that Tari is no longer the person she once was. Even now, I can easily visualize a concerned colleague advising Tari to seek help, with tears in her eyes, for Tari isn’t the same person as before. She’s becoming thinner and thinner: some of the photos she shares here are very disturbing. Later on, it is profoundly disheartening for her to be in a bar, surrounded by a romantic atmosphere, only for a man to drop a bombshell: "You know you're very sick and won't live much longer if you don't get immediate help." Tari’s conversations with the doctors are also unforgettable, during which she’d be asked to retell her tale: “I had to tell my tale multiple times daily to a rotating sea of nameless faces for weeks.”
Honestly, I’m certain I’ll reread I’M ALL BETTER NOW because Tari’s story and her masterly narration of it touched me. As for readers who love memoirs, this one is sure to leave a lasting impact.
Tari’s transparency is powerful, the first thing the dear reader will notice, as she burrows deep into her struggles with the usual challenges life often throws our way, and more so her struggles to become better. Throughout this emotive memoir, her simple evocative prose helps immerse the reader in her sad yet inspiring story. In the beginning, she delves into why most people wouldn’t want to talk about numbers. “Numbers on a scale, numbers of miles run, calorie counting, number of times an obsessive-compulsive ritual needs to be performed . . .,” and this drew me to her story, for I realize some truth in what she’s saying.
Another compelling aspect of Tari’s writing is her voice, which carries with it a certain degree of melancholy, frankness, and a little more of something else. For instance, she writes: “I guess I’ll start by giving you a bit of my history. It’s logical and something that a person whose brain is working properly does. Mine functions better now. I’m sure of it. I have nutrients coursing through my body these days, so yeah, I’m thinking clearly now. I’ll prove it.”
On page 87, Tari breaks my heart with a situation many of us can relate to. Her health has deteriorated, yet she cannot admit it—not to anyone, not even to herself. She feels pressured to finish a project and provide for her children, convinced that pressing the stop button isn’t an option. I can easily envision a concerned colleague urging Tari to seek help, tears in her eyes, as it becomes clear that Tari is no longer the person she once was. Even now, I can easily visualize a concerned colleague advising Tari to seek help, with tears in her eyes, for Tari isn’t the same person as before. She’s becoming thinner and thinner: some of the photos she shares here are very disturbing. Later on, it is profoundly disheartening for her to be in a bar, surrounded by a romantic atmosphere, only for a man to drop a bombshell: "You know you're very sick and won't live much longer if you don't get immediate help." Tari’s conversations with the doctors are also unforgettable, during which she’d be asked to retell her tale: “I had to tell my tale multiple times daily to a rotating sea of nameless faces for weeks.”
Honestly, I’m certain I’ll reread I’M ALL BETTER NOW because Tari’s story and her masterly narration of it touched me. As for readers who love memoirs, this one is sure to leave a lasting impact.
September 29, 2024
I wasn't expecting to relate to Tari as much as I did, or smile and giggle that much, either. Disclaimer - I have struggled with various eating disorders and disordered eating issues for more than half my life. With that said, I knew going in that reading this was risky, but in the end it was totally worth it. I loved her wit and humor when it came to facing down everything that came with it, and I deeply appreciate just how hard it can be to open up about something like this. It's not something I often see outside a few support groups I'm a part of, and I realize those who haven't dealt with something similar may not fully understand just how dark things can get, and how humor really can help you survive the darkest times. The thing I most took away from this, though, is that I need to start pushing back towards recovery again, instead of the quasi-recovery I've been stumbling through. If nothing else, this is a reminder you aren't going through this alone.
September 27, 2024
I could not put this book down. Tari shares her story about her struggle with her restrictive eating disorder and with how she always has to prove something to herself and others that doubt her. It was eye-opening when she talks about treatment and honestly disturbing on the lack of communication and how the approach of a one-size-fits-all plan can be detrimental. I appreciate her humor and honesty throughout the book.
June 2, 2025
Entertaining and quick read but didn’t love how it was written
August 20, 2025
Too triggering
Displaying 1 - 6 of 6 reviews