The Slippery Slope

Rigidity. Sticking to a structure has helped me cope with the challenges I must face every minute of every day whilst attempting a difficult recovery from Anorexia Nervosa. If I set my mind to a fixed schedule I can ensure I have the correct amount of calories a day… should I sway from this not only do I get a feeling of intense guilt, but I can rarely achieve to have an adequate energy intake. I had initially set out to write out a very different post this week, however following the week I am about to embark on, I felt that documenting it would be far more appropriate. I will be skiing in the French Alps, this is a feat neither I nor my family thought possible for various reasons, as I was either going to be at university this year or far too ill to ski. Not only is the week challenging in terms of compensating calorie-wise with exercising and the intense -18 degree cold, but also I am beating down on the strict routine I have created for myself by setting myself a mountain of virtually impossible tasks (if you’ll pardon the pun). This holiday was necessary in my eyes in terms of recovery and I am finally here despite the many hurdles I had to overcome to do so.

Every year from a very young age I have been skiing for a week in February with the family. Being a sucker for traditions and rituals, I was not going to pass up the opportunity to do exactly the same this year nor would I have been able to handle the immense guilt of denying my family a laid-back week that they so deserve. When it was initially discussed with my Therapist, she was very wary of the idea of me skiing due to the increased risks of fractures should I fall due to my lack of ‘padding’. However, upon me explaining why I needed to go so much, it was decided that it would be more beneficial for my mental wellbeing if I went as opposed to staying home. I have been stuck in my rituals since November, not particularly varying my diet and sticking to exact meal times as a sort of comfort. Having no motivation and with nothing to look forward to, every day has been identical doing the ‘same old, same old’; I was stuck in a rut. In being able to go on holiday, changing scenery and my daily activities, it has permitted me to challenge myself by becoming more carefree again. It was very touch and go up to the very last minute whether I would be able to leave, as getting time off work was particularly difficult. I had to admit directly to my manager, whom I would not particularly trust with personal issues, that I had Anorexia and in doing so I was afraid of getting unwanted ‘special treatment’ in revealing my weakness and afraid of the consequential tears whenever I voice the words ‘I have Anorexia.’ out loud. Being pessimistic, I did not dare to pack, despite my ultra-organisation obsession. I could not see myself in a different environment, disrupting my strict schedule and going back to the old me. I say I could not… but I also WOULD NOT allow myself see any potential in having a good time.

I have come to realise I have trouble distinguishing between the feeling of anxiety and excitement. Both cause a surge of adrenaline that increase my heart-rate and so upon feeling the fluttery feeling in the car on the way to the mountains, I was confused as to how I felt about this holiday. I set out to learn to enjoy life again and take pleasure from the simple things by attempting to look on the bright side. Doing something I have always enjoyed very fondly, I get to remember what it was like to be me and regain a semblance of the person I used to be no matter how distant it seems to me. Skiing is a way of clearing the mind, for those of you who have never been, the combination of the fresh mountain air and calmness allows you to clear the mind almost entirely of stress. The sheer exhilaration that comes from the speed is so simplistic, but one I could rarely achieve anywhere else at this time in my life. I have not genuinely enjoyed myself in far too long and so in documenting my experience of the journey of self-rediscovery in real-time, it helps me realise and appreciate what I have worked through and how it made me felt when conquering any challenges…

The first day started off with a change despite my usual 8:30 wake-up time. It may sound petty, but I had a glass of orange juice as opposed to apple; an apparently small difference that started off a day set to a different tune. Things really started going on the up after that… and not just on the ski lifts! I had my usual bowl of porridge (mixed with water. This is not only due to my fear of fats but I have never and will never like milk) at breakfast, which I swiftly followed with an extra cereal bar without too much consideration. I hadn’t set out to have the extra bar and took it upon a spontaneous decision that I should considering I’d be exercising. Spontaneity is not a natural occurrence to me anymore, especially when food is involved- I will write out and plan my menu of meals to the exact calories a whole week in advance. What I appreciated the most was the fact that my parents have learnt not to make a big deal of when I battle my illness in such a way. Should they have shown any sign of contentment without me seeking the specific approval for it, I would immediately feel a huge guilt for eating it. I cannot handle their satisfaction. Usually lunch times would be taken on the slopes where I would eat the traditionally French, steak and chips, followed occasionally by the cheeky chocolate pancake. This year we planned to go home for lunch where I would be able to eat my usual calorie controlled lunch that I would have back home. And we did just that after a nice 3 hour morning of skiing in the sun and making the most of the beautiful weather and snow. I would embarrassingly usually take around 2 hours to eat my entire lunch consisting of a mug of soup, yogurt and fruit, BUT on this day the mere idea of being able to go out on the slopes again in the afternoon meant I ‘rushed’ my lunch, completing it in the record time of 50 minutes. My whole family and I were shocked. This was no small feat and instead of feeling guilty I even had a chocolate truffle before setting off for an equally thrilling afternoon. I secretly cried tears of joy behind my ski mask whilst skiing; I have not felt such an intense and genuine happy feeling since my depression barely ever cracking a smile even when watching a funny comedy. I must reiterate however, that despite what looks like a miraculous huge step in recovery, it was only possible due to my knowledge that I’d be burning calories by exercising. The only positivity of the situation comes from the fact that I was able to compensate more or less for the exercise and cold. Unfortunately no matter how hard I try, I cannot forget and let myself go entirely.

By the second day, I had anticipated huge cramps from exercising for the first time since abstaining from it last summer and the fact that my anorexia ‘ate away’ a lot of my muscles I used to have. However, I was pleasantly surprised to find that albeit a disruptive night, I was ready and rearing to go like the previous day upon seeing the clear blue sky. Though many of you won’t believe it, I wore 9 layers and a hot water bottle in order to stay warm on the slopes and therefore conserve as many calories as possible. The day consisted of pretty much the same thing as the day before with the extra cereal bar for breakfast and a lunch break, though I had set myself up to try and have some brioche after returning home in the afternoon. It is extremely easy for me to say and believe that I can eat something extra, but when it comes to actually doing it, I get a mental block and it becomes a physical impossibility- easier said than done you would say. Unfortunately, I disappointed myself by not having the brioche I so craved and instead stuck to my usual snack of dried fruits and nuts, having painstakingly agonised over the thought of eating it whilst skiing all day. On a happier note, I felt euphoric upon hearing my dad say to me that it was so good to see me like this- and by this he meant happy… I am continually surprising my parents this week with my ability to ski, as no one thought it possible for me to be able to stay on my skis all day. Last year, skiing for me was not only for pleasure, but I would be doing as much as possible in order to burn as many calories as possible. Even though this year is purely about the pleasures, I cannot get rid of that buzz I get in the thought that I am calorie burning at the same time.

Mid-week brought about the bad weather with gale force winds and clouds. Although this did not stop us from going out, we should have taken the empty slopes as an indication of just how harsh the conditions were. Upon reaching the top of the runs, I certainly felt for the first time -rather surprisingly- the hindrance of my 12Kg I have in less. The winds were so strong I could literally no longer advance and was somewhat blown over to the side several times meaning I had to work much harder to get down the mountain, struggling to beat my way through the wind. Again this extra energy certainly left me with a content feeling that I was consuming more energy. Fortunately I am far more resilient than people thought, as I was not cold (the 9 layers helped, and battery heated mittens) and when a pack of soft snow caused me to fall abruptly, I was in no way injured. I really appreciated however the cleansing feeling in my mind that skiing brings me and the opportunity to free myself of the worries and control around food. Despite the fact I really wanted to go out in the afternoon, I decided that given my condition that I should slow down a bit. This did bring about many guilty feelings, but I must learn to deal with them, as I realise any step in my recovery will not necessarily be comfortable if not quite literally painful. I must therefore overcome and fight this feeling.

Waking up on the Thursday brought about the aches and pains in my arms from the extra effort I had to put in to move forwards in the wind. I will be honest in saying that this sent an unforeseen thrill through me, as it was physical ‘proof’ that I had exerted myself. Every morning I have had a huge craving for a fresh pain au chocolat from the village bakery, as I would have had every year. However, I have unfortunately as of yet not brought myself to even attempt to ask my dad to go get it for me, as the sheer fear of devouring so many calories in such a decadent treat is just that much too strong… An idea was set up that we might have lunch on the slopes for once, it definitely terrified me but I thought I could challenge myself in eating something I would be completely unaware of the calorie content. This idea was not taken up and we skied for longer in the morning deciding not to go out in the afternoon again.  Despite the ‘lack’ of a presence of exercise in the afternoon, I still allowed myself a chocolate after lunch. I am distinctly aware that the reason behind this, is the fact that I have a feeling I have been under what I should be having calorie wise so far this week. The Anorexic voice is still very much there and it is revelling in its newfound independence of my food intake not being constantly scrutinised. I know it is very wrong to be so weak and give in, but the Anorexia found the opportunity of rearing its ugly head too hard to resist taking advantage of the slight slacking in rigidity, as I am constantly reminded of how unhappy I will be again upon my return to my monotonous and lonely routine at home next week. Although my family and therapist had accepted that it would be highly unlikely of any weight regain this week, the big concern was my ability to maintain my weight and ensure it didn’t drop, due to how difficult and slow the process of restoration has been. I cannot afford to lose the weight I have put so much effort to gain these past months. Not having a scale nearby, I will be unaware of the effects of this week on me physically until I return home. Whether it has been detrimental or I have done sufficiently enough, I know that I could not have gone another week in Watford the way I was.

The last day skiing came after the first night of proper sleep I have had all week. Before going to bed, I had told my dad that I was considering having half a pain au chocolat with my porridge in the morning, as after watching my family eat delicious pastries all week, I decided that I could permit myself at least half of this indulgence if it had done them no harm. My dad made no fuss about this decision but that in no way would I not be allowed to change my mind but admittedly I was anxious about it all night. I realise my dad knows me far better than I give him credit for, knowing I would not be able to take a whole one and halve it myself, he took the pain au chocolat, cut it and had replaced the half I would potentially take back in the pastry bag. However, our family friend took the half he had prepared before I was able to finish my porridge and take up the courage to eat it. At this stage it would have been far too easy to let the Anorexic voice win and give up, as there was not a half already prepared for me. I struggled to attack the voice; I could not bring myself to draw attention to the fact I would be indulging by grabbing into the bag and cutting the pastry myself. It was a physical impossibility. I-Solene- won. I therefore asked my dad quietly to do it for me and he swiftly cut the other one for me and made no comment and left me to it. I ate it. I felt HUGELY guilty but I actually managed to do it! As much as it actually pains me to admit, I enjoyed it… (Writing this has made my heart flutter!). I have to make myself see it logically, that if my family can have a whole one and ski as much as me with no consequences, then a simple half will not hurt me. The sun was shining and for once in the week it was much warmer, so we set out to make the most of the last day. We spent a total of 6 hours on the slopes, so in my mind I had sufficiently burnt off the pastry. I could have done with more calories no matter how much I will NOT admit it to myself nor be able to actually consume those calories (I say ‘could have’ but everyone else would see it as a should have). It was strange to find that I could still be amused by the simple things. By losing one of my poles on the ski lift, skiing down the mountain with only one was quite entertaining and my long lost sense of humour seemed to return. My parents were extremely glad to see me so happy, as it makes a change from usual. It would honestly have been a huge shame to miss out on this week, as I needed it and I knew that.

The week surpassed my expectations and I realise I am far stronger than I believed both physically and mentally. Though my parents did not allow me to carry my own skis (I must burn as few calories as possible!), they did not stop me skiing as much as I thought I could, as they could see I was working on compensating for it. No one would have believed I would ski every day and it took everyone, including myself, by surprise. I took pleasure in the mountains and the physical exercise but I had not initially set out for a week of physical exertion- for me it was purely for my mental wellbeing and the ability to challenge myself. I have come to discover that I will always search for something to worry about- an aspect of negativity. I don’t know why I could not simply allow myself to remain happy but I was anxious all week about returning to Watford and getting stuck in my ritual all over again. Despite this  I have finished the week euphoric. This word I have previously used to negatively describe an addictive feeling. This time it’s a genuine euphoria which I can completely justify with my contentment from skiing and taking a holiday with my family, whose equal elation pleased me to no end.

Releasing myself and being away from the societal pressures I have fabricated for myself, I was able to take stock in what is really important to me at the moment and making the most of what I have got. The bond with my family has strengthened immensely over the week and for once in a long time we were not united in my battle to recovery but in our joy. I was able to talk intimately with my sister again, which was something I had missed. It was as if we’d never had the breakdown in communication this year, as she treated me and confided in me in the same way as before. Though we obviously got on each other’s nerves, I would like to believe she enjoyed my company as much as I relished hers. As for my mum, she wears her heart on her sleeve and so we are almost always constantly aware of her sentiments. We were able to have a heart to heart about her own troubles and anxieties, which she later told my dad she found really helpful and a good pick-me-up. It warmed me to hear that, as I have felt responsible for a lot of her current stress. I appreciate her a lot more than she would believe, as she is attentive to my every need and kept me company all week preparing to sacrifice herself whenever need be; so I thank her. Both her and my dad have contributed a terrible amount to my happiness this week. I owe them so much after all the suffering I have caused.

 I could use skiing as a whole metaphor for Anorexia Nervosa and its recovery. Skiing down the mountain is far quicker and more exhilarating than going up in the ski-lift, which can be windy, long, boring and stop leaving you in the air unable to go up or down. I would describe the tumble into Anorexia as the skiing, where the speed at which it will bring you to rock bottom leaves you unaware of just how far you have fallen and unable to see the top of the mountain anymore. This is very much the same as relapsing into the illness, you may have been at the top, but in a relapse you will fall all the way back down again before getting back up on the ski lift of recovery from the very beginning again. Recovery is slow and difficult and you will coast along never quite sure when you will reach the top, occasionally stopping midway, where continuing the battle is just too hard. I want to believe I am in recovery. I’m learning to enjoy life again and I am finally able to take pleasures in the small things.