First and foremost, I want to apologise in advance if this is in any way triggering for anyone who has gone through / is currently going through what I am about to talk about, but it needs to spoken about and it needs to be addressed. I have always been outspoken about mental health issues, predominantly those surrounding eating disorders, and I therefore want to write about my experience of living with an eating disorder because too many people (in the world AND that I know) suffer from some variation of an ED and in many cases, it’s still considered “too touchy” to have a conversation about it. For too long, I battled with destructive thoughts that subsequently led to punishing my body in one of the most extreme ways possible whilst also involuntarily pushing loved ones and friends away from me. I want what I’m about to say to resonate with those who have been in this situation and I want you to know that you’re not alone. I also want those that have not gone through it to have an insight, because it’s more common than you think and for quite a while, no one was aware that I was suffering.
You don’t just wake up one day and suddenly realise that you have acquired an eating disorder. It’s something that nestles in your brain and continuously grows until it completely monopolises your thoughts. It’s also not some impermeable line, where you’re either diagnosed with an eating disorder or you’re not, it manifests itself in countless ways and it’s worth noting that I was never diagnosed by a doctor. Why? Simply because I lied, but I’ll get into that later.
When asked by my family or friends about my drastic weight loss, (roughly 2.5 stone in a matter of months) I claimed that it was due to stress and honestly, at the beginning, it genuinely was. The painful stress of watching my dad suffer from a mental illness partnered with the stress of starting my A-Level year. Then came the subtle enjoyment of seeing a slight change in my weight (I was never overweight to begin with) and savouring the praise that I was being given by girls in school and the superficial validation that it gave me. The next step was actively deciding that I was going to continue to lose weight and make myself as thin as I possibly could, because clearly if I was being praised by people then surely that was what I should continue to do? With that came the worry that I was going to put back on any weight that was lost and immediately lose the respect I thought I had gained. So, this step entailed downloading a calorie-counting app, researching what daily calorie intake would make me lose weight FAST (don’t do this, because it is literally BULLSHIT and NOT HEALTHY), deciding that 1,200 calories was the best option (PLEASE NOTE: this is the recommended calorie intake for a SEDENTARY 4 - 8 YEAR OLD CHILD and I was an ACTIVE 17 YEAR OLD), popping that goal into MyFitnessPal, and that was the moment that solidified my downward spiral. Bear in mind, this was still when I thought my mind was in a relatively stable state and that what I was about to do was Completely Healthy. Although I was never diagnosed, I do believe that I suffered from orthorexia – which is an obsession with only eating healthy foods. For me, this manifested in only consuming lots of fruit, veg, “lean” meats, yoghurt, all the superfoods that you could think of during the week until it got to Friday and Saturday. These are the two days that my family get a takeaway for dinner, we always have and always will, but they became the days that I began to dread. They were days that I thought about during class in school because I panicked that I was going to eat all this “unhealthy” food and immediately become fat. Whereas, on the outside I seemed openly excited about going out for food, or getting a takeaway, because it was acting as a cover up for how I was really feeling. Then came the incessant talking about food. I began asking my friends what they were having for dinner and mentally comparing it to what I already knew I was having – a plate of vegetables with two boiled eggs, and if I was really treating myself, I might add some cheese. I began taking photos of my food and constantly posting “what I was eating” on social media in order to keep up this façade that I was truly eating all the chocolate and the ice cream and the sweets that I was claiming to be eating. Oh, I forgot to mention that I was also forcing myself out of bed every single day at 6.30am in order to workout for 20/30 minutes because I also thought this was healthy, until it became obsessive. If I missed a morning (rare), the guilt consumed my thoughts for the entire day because then I told myself that I didn’t deserve to eat the same amount of food as I usually would. This routine repeated itself every single day of that entire school year. No matter how much/little sleep I had the night before, I was out of bed at 6.30 and rewarding myself with a breakfast of Greek yoghurt with a teaspoon of honey and exactly six (6) strawberries. Any social event, or night out, or dinner with friends brought about severe anxiety and panic because then I would have to limit what I was eating all day in order for whatever was happening that evening to fit into my calorie intake, and God forbid if I went over that. I don’t know if my friends ever noticed this, but I started declining invites or making excuses not to go places. Sometimes, I tried to get the date of a meal pushed back in order to lose a bit more weight so that I could eat more at the meal. Or if it were a dinner and drinks, I would have an extremely healthy dinner and tell my friends I had already eaten. In retrospect, this is harrowing. The fact that I forced myself to go through this, alone, and miss out on so many experiences and opportunities to make memories with my family and friends brings me so much pain.
Next came the physical effects of what I was putting my body through. I became dangerously run down. I stopped getting my period. At 17 years old, I stopped getting a period because I was too thin, and my body couldn’t support me. I’m a dancer, and when I attempted to stretch, I couldn’t even lie on my stomach because my hip bones were digging painfully into the ground. I remember the day that I first felt the pain of lying on my tummy and sitting there after, on the floor, in tears due to the realisation that I was ILL and the knowledge that I was still going to continue to keep myself that way. I went from being a healthy size 8-10 to where a size 6 was hanging off me. I had finally achieved a thigh gap, which is something that my body is simply not built to have. I was always cold; my circulation was so bad that it didn’t reach my hands or feet (it still doesn’t to this day) because there wasn’t enough fat on my body to do this simple task. Most of the time, my lips were blue. I had constant headaches because there wasn’t enough food in my body to give my brain the energy to concentrate.
So, I went to the doctor. I told her I was eating normally, that I was losing weight due to stress, but I wanted to know why I was getting headaches, why my period had gone – when I knew. So, (many) blood tests were taken to see if there were any abnormalities but all my vitamin levels were high (due to making sure I was eating fruit and veg all the time), so the doctor "knew" that I was eating and it was put down to stress. Although, my white blood cell levels had dropped dangerously low due to weight loss, to the point that they were almost non-existent, and I was advised not to go on holiday because if I got an infection I could end up in an extremely dangerous position. Well, I went on that holiday and was told by a boy on the dancefloor that he initially thought I was 12 years old, when I was actually 18. I lied to everyone I knew because I was ashamed of what I had become, and I was ashamed that I was in so deep. I convinced myself that in order to be beautiful, I had to be thin. I revelled in hearing people comment on how I lost so much weight, even when they were commenting out of worry, because it proved to me that what I was doing was working. I convinced myself that in order to be worthy, I had to be thin. I wish I could go back in time and tell myself how untrue this all is, that my weight was never something that was going to make an iota of difference to my worth, because I wasted so much time.
When I went to university, I made a promise to myself to actively try and get out of the massive hole I was stuck in. I still kept the demons I was battling with entirely to myself but I had finally had enough of not being able to look in the mirror and simultaneously be disgusted at myself and proud of the tiny person I had made myself into. I was sick of seeing my family, especially my mother, being worried about me and I know my mother blamed herself in some way for not knowing what to do and I felt ashamed that I had put her through that. Of course she didn’t know what to do, because I didn’t either, I declined any help I was given. Yes, I regained the weight. No, the thoughts didn’t disappear. It was a constant battle to fight the guilty thoughts surrounding food, and it still is, but I refuse to go back to that place, and I want whoever is reading this to refuse to do that too.
I never got my recovery. I never went through the process you’re supposed to because when I had the opportunity to receive help, I didn’t think that I was deserving of it. I didn’t feel that I had pushed myself far enough, and when I started to regain weight, I resented myself for it. Then, after several more months, I started to see my body changing and although this was painful, I saw myself begin to resemble a woman of my age. My body started to normalise itself again in several ways, my period came back and my fingernails were growing faster. Although, my circulation is still fecked and I am now stuck with Raynaud’s disease for the rest of my life (which isn’t fun in the winter), but it’s a drastic improvement. The unhealthy thoughts are still there, albeit manageable. If I could offer one piece of advice to anyone in need, it is to take the help. You’re worth a lot more than you think you are, and whatever validation you believe you’re going to receive through punishing yourself is not enough to feel fulfilled, because you’re rendering yourself so unhappy in the process.
Many people that are suffering an ED are relentlessly told “you don’t eat a lot”, “you’re too skinny”, or “I would never be able to starve myself”. Please refrain. You don’t know what anyone is going through. I love food. Everyone that knows me knows that I love food. 6 years ago, I wouldn’t have thought that I would be able to starve myself, yet here we are.
One final word, it’s essential to say that an ED does not always manifest itself through weight loss. There is no “one size fits all”. You don’t know who is struggling with these thoughts, you don’t know who binge eats, who suffers from bulimia, who suffers from anorexia but is in the process of recovery - you don’t know. Please be aware and please be conscious of the words that you use.
Eating disorder helplines – UK:
Helpline: 0808 801 0677
Studentline: 0808 801 0811
Youthline: 0808 801 071
Cait xo
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