Blushing Pride

Embarrassment. When we undergo an experience that we believe will be judged by others in a negative way and will hinder our appearance to others, we feel a rush of shame course through us. More often than not, it is our own fears of how we are perceived by the public that causes this emotion rather than how people would generally react to such a situation. Our discomfort can take on a physical form, flooding our faces with a noticeable blush making matters somewhat worse. However, in many cases our mortification can remain internal eating away at us by telling us that everyone will laugh or use this against us to make us seem weaker. It is our pride that will encourage us to avoid humiliation and internalise a lot of the thoughts and feelings we believe to be too shameful to reveal to others. As a recovering Anorexia sufferer, I find myself often ashamed of admitting that I have suffered from an eating disorder which is wrongly regarded by many as a bid to lose weight or demand for attention. I would rather not draw attention to my disorder, as I constantly fear that it will highlight the issues I still have with eating certain foods or the way I eat particular things. It is however, in admitting that I have this weakness that I can empower others to seek help and recover themselves from this vicious mental disease.

The past couple of months for me have been host to some highs in my recovery as well as some lows. Before the start of the month long Easter holidays, I was remaining stuck inside my university room fearing eating outside of the comforts of the four walls I knew to be safe in. I became embarrassed of the way I ate or the length of time it took and I therefore avoided eating my home cooked food in public (I oddly seem to not have an issue with restaurant food). I believe that that this irrational feeling was borne from the fact that, at home, I feel I should be able to eat the way I want to without the feeling of pressure to eat a certain way so as not to be judged. The ridiculousness of the situation arises when I realise just how supportive everyone I live with is and so it is my mission to regain confidence in myself again and eat out. I still feel that a lot of the choices I make in my social life do revolve around me making time to eat and giving myself plenty of leeway in which to do so, this clearly hinders me a lot. I am therefore forcing myself to be a lot more spontaneous in my plans and realise that my life does NOT revolve around food. This is why, just before I left university for my time off I started to really push myself to go out with friends and stop looking for pointless excuses to avoid it no matter how understanding I knew they would be about it. I was harming only myself.

Having been given the opportunity to try again for Dentistry last month by being awarded an interview, I really built up my hopes that I would finally achieve my dream and I was proud of myself after my tough year. I foolishly decided to share my pride with many people so that they could share in my happiness, as they are all aware of just how ambitious I am to make it in the dental profession. Unfortunately I was, yet again, turned down. At first, came the despair that I had yet again had my hopes raised only to be dashed so cruelly at such a close stage. Yet, this soon gave way to the humiliation that I had been so confident in my abilities that I had led others to believe that I was capable of becoming a dentist. The admission of failure does not come easy to anyone, so to have to explain to every person who was rooting for me that I was unable to live up my own expectations has been mortifying. In a way I am proud of how far I managed to get and that I was selected to even have an interview, but when this amounts to nothing I realise that I have not really achieved anything.

 

Being so hard on myself through my failure to fulfil my aspirations, my second ski trip of the year could not have come at a better time. I have always found skiing to be a way to clear my mind of all my troubles and so given the opportunity to go with my university for a week over Easter, I jumped at the chance. Obviously the food issue crossed my mind more than once in the run up to this holiday. I would be going with people who, although knew my situation, did not really know the extent to which I was still suffering from anxiety with food. I need not have worried however, as I was so comfortable around everyone that the embarrassment I had been harbouring for so long dissipated and I was able to thoroughly enjoy the food I was eating. Every lunch time we ate on the slopes at various restaurants and so having no idea of the foods that would be available for me to eat and aware that mountain food quantities are somewhat large (verging on stateside) doused in rich cheese, I really had to challenge myself. Looking through the menu took me a long time, as in my mind I debated taking my Anorexia’s choice of what I knew to be the least calorific option against the food I really craved to eat. Most of the time I won over and I truly ate decadent food with little discomfort, as I knew the others around me were eating similar quantities and I had been exercising whilst skiing all day.

I however, must dedicate a paragraph to the pizza I ate whilst I was in the French Alpes and the pizza, as everyone is aware, is based around bread and cheese- my biggest ‘no-go’ foods. I had my first taste of a pizza since becoming ill back in February on my ski holiday with the family and so I had been able to enjoy it in the comfort of my own family. The pizza had been my choice despite there being other foods available on the menu that I would have felt more comfortable eating. When with the university however, on the last day my group of friends and I decided on a pizza for lunch before the long road back home and to reality. Walking around we could not find any pizzerias and so, the rest of the group decided that they would like to go for a takeaway pizza instead at one of the small stands we had found. I was initially very reluctant and tried to find any restaurant that might serve pizzas as I wanted the pizza I ate to be my own choice and if I chickened out I would have plenty of other options to choose from. I abated my own need for control of the situation so that my peers could enjoy what THEY wanted. Without thinking, upon ordering my pizza, I chose the 6 cheese pizza. I regret my decision to this day. The pizza base though very thin, was laden with a thick layer of cheese, which everyone hastened to notice when I began eating. I am embarrassed to admit I actually enjoyed it but I have thought about that choice with much discomfort ever since. Why was I so foolish to go for the pizza with so much cheese when I KNOW I do not eat it? Though, being one pizza, it obviously had no effect on my weight whatsoever, it is the fact I felt so weak as to actually eat so much cheese with ease that fills me with shame.

My dad recently admitted to me that he was unaware that I was still so concerned with the number of calories within food. I have never knowingly given off the impression that I was more recovered that I really am, but it embarrassed me to have to confess that the thoughts are still very much there and always have been. Having also recently been to visit my therapist for the first time since being discharged, I was afraid that she would be disappointed that I might not have come as far as she might have hoped since we ended our therapy sessions. Hand on my heart; I acknowledge that I am still in recovery despite being a lot healthier and in a better place than I was many months ago.  It is not easy for me to tell people that I am still afraid of certain foods or eating at particularly fast speeds, as I feel it makes me feel I’m being childish or even fussy by trying to draw attention to myself. Fortunately, I have come a long way in the recovery that the shame is waning, as I slowly get closer and closer to truly being better.

Filling up with Pressure

Pressure. We can often bear the feeling of being required to carry a burden we are ill-equipped to cope with.  When saddled with our own need to achieve, we can often lay an unnecessary stress upon ourselves, which could easily be relieved if we were to trust our abilities. For someone suffering from Anorexia Nervosa, they find comfort in the knowledge that their failure can of sorts be rectified with the accomplishment of restricting themselves of food. When there is little we can control in the face of anxiety, ‘victories’ are sought in different places and predominantly in how we feed ourselves; alimentation being the one true aspect we have complete power over. Soon enough we build a tolerance to the small euphoria induced in the initial cutting down of food and we therefore resist our fear of failure through the oasis we have found within our turmoil and so the Anorexia flourishes. It is not sufficient to merely reach a goal, we want to come out ‘top’; there is no end to what the Anorexia will make us endure. WE must decide to believe that we can truly be content with our achievements outside of the bubble Anorexia has created and eventually return to a world where contentment can be found in all places.

Following the admission to having started counting my calories again during the pressure of exams, I thought that the problem would rectify itself as time went on and the stress alleviated. I unfortunately overestimated the ease at which this can be done, despite having faced a relapse in my Anorexia before. Instead of being reassured that I would not need to count my calories in order to lessen my anxiety, I found myself regressing in a way that I felt that I needed to once again weigh out my portions (not to the gram but nevertheless more precisely) to know how much I was having. After my month at home over Christmas, I was able to directly compare the portions I had been making for myself alone at university with the more regular ones being served up to me by my family. In my mind, I felt I had been over feeding myself over the semester whilst fending for myself and therefore, in the bid to rectify the ‘damage’ and avoid putting on more weight, I believe this is what triggered my need to calorie count again. I have therefore had to consistently remind myself how skeletal I looked at my lowest weight and how miserable it made me.  

Before- Summer 2011

Now- (Left)

I was aware that I was becoming stuck in a rut whereby my days would once again revolve around my mealtimes and I refused to be agile with them as well as confine myself to my room in order to eat. I was still sticking to a healthy amount of calories but I felt safer knowing exactly how many I was having. I could feel the return of a sense of depression despite the continuation of my anti-depressant treatment. I no longer felt the desire to leave my room, or go out clubbing with my flat mates and friends, which I had so loved and enjoyed the previous semester. I am unsure what changed exactly and how it came about but I knew that I had to do something or my health could severely deteriorate- I had been in similar situations before. At the time I still had the stress of finding out my results and therefore whether I would potentially be accepted to take part in an interview for the transfer to Dentistry; the degree that has always been my dream. In the face of the unknown, I was adding excessive pressure on myself.

Having experienced the benefits of a week away in the fresh mountain air skiing the year before, I knew that a week away from university with my family would be the perfect opportunity to pick myself back up again. Last year, I believe that week really was the turning point in my recovery, as I came back feeling more fulfilled and positive towards my recovery and subsequently revived out of my depression. Having commitments with my degree that week, I was unsure up until the last minute whether I would be able to go or not, but I felt for my wellbeing and continuation at university, that a week away would be wise. Leaving the country and the comforts of my home and rituals, I always feel I am able to achieve far more and I can actually push myself. I therefore took it upon myself to not take any scales with me to the Alpes. I was also embarrassed to admit to my parents how downhill I come since they had seen me at Christmas, nor did I ever want them to see me using scales again as it would only bring back nightmare memories; they have enough on their plates (no pun intended). I did not want to become a liability.

I could not have hoped for a better week of skiing, the snow was amazing and there were blue skies every day, most of all I did not have any speed limitations on account of the fragility of my bones like last year. I was free to experience the exhilaration of my favourite sport. As predicted, I was able to challenge myself once again with the foods I would eat; granted I acknowledge that a lot of the challenging process was marred in the knowledge that I had and would be extensively exercising all day. Each morning I found myself eating a bowl of my usual porridge accompanied by half a pain au chocolat fresh from the bakery, which I found to be an indulgence that I am unafraid to admit I enjoyed. Lunch times this year were taken at the restaurant on the piste where even though I would take a bowl of soup, I compensated with a yogurt, fruit and an extra cereal bar to keep up my energy. Upon returning back from a day of skiing, I amazed myself by accepting a regular piece of praline brioche like everyone else with little though or guilt.

The food challenges were not to stop there as on the final day, we chose a different restaurant for lunch- a Pizzeria. Though I had a huge variety of choice on the menu, I decided, like the rest of my family, to order a pizza. This was my FRIST pizza since I have been ill, with my last one being a distant memory I have long lost forgotten. I still consider bread and cheese to be the ‘enemy’ but having seen these ultra-thin crusted pizzas float past the table, I was motivated to break the biggest feat yet in my recovery. I finished the whole pizza guilt free AND had three pancakes for dinner the very same night! I would not say I will be as extravagant with my food choices on a regular basis, but it allowed me to break the taboo of eating a pizza that I had long held on to. Fortunately my parents know me well enough NEVER to ask if I am enjoying a particularly daring food whilst I am eating and thankfully waited until I was done and I myself had admitted to enjoying it to ask questions.

The week was not all plain sailing, as I saw myself stress about the lectures I would be missing and the work I had to do, as well as the long anticipated reply from the dentistry school (turns out I still have not heard anything) in the fear of having to make an emergency trip home. Returning back from independence also saw me start to resent the questions of being asked whether I was ok to eat at restaurants at lunch and what I felt was safe to eat for dinner; I felt every decision had to revolve around me. My sister as a consequence felt that I was drawing attention to my own needs and that I felt I required ‘special attention’- far from it, as I would rather have been left alone. I do however, feel that the week did me a lot of good and I definitely came back, yet again, with a more positive outlook and although physically exhausted, I was no longer suffering from the emotional exhaustion I had been.

I am aware I am an over-achiever, though I do prefer to set the bar low for myself to avoid disappointment. However, this does not stop me putting pressure on myself to do well in life and not to feel like a failure should I not be able to attain my aspirations. Fortunately, my hard work so far this year has paid off and I currently have a first in the first half of the year, having also come out of the other side of exam period relatively unharmed by stress. I should now start to believe in my abilities and acknowledge that I can do well; in turn this will alleviate the stress I put on myself in a healthy manner as I know that I CAN do it. Though I know I have had a slight set-back in my recovery, I can still sense the determination to get rid of the Anorexia and I have not been defeated. I will continue to fight and I will continue to win.   

Festive Feasts

Gluttony. One of the seven deadly sins imprinted within each of us that causes us to overindulge in the many aspects of life we enjoy. It is hard to take something we thoroughly enjoy in moderation and not exceed the limit of what would be deemed acceptable or healthy. When we find comfort in a particular object, it is challenging to fight the urge to gorge ourselves on the euphoric feeling it gives us; this comfort is short lived. The greed rushes through us leaving us wanting more and it takes an incredible amount of willpower many of us do not naturally possess to quench this desire. It is however the accomplishment of resisting the excess, that drives and thrills those that suffer from Anorexia. The more we are able to restrict ourselves from the aspects we most crave, the more powerful we feel; we feel in ‘control’. This is why for many sufferers of eating disorders, the Christmas ‘party’ season, is one of the most difficult.

Back in December, I was highly aware of the Christmas holidays looming ahead. Though this meant a well-deserved break from my first term of fending for myself at university, I was also aware that I would be returning to a world in which I would once more become dependent on my parents. This thought both excited and scared me at the same time. On one hand it would be a relief not to worry about portion sizes and whether what I was cooking for myself was too much (rarely would I ever deem it too be too little) or too calorie-laden. Then there was the inevitable return of the questions from my family on when I wanted to eat, what I wanted to eat and whether I wanted any food to snack on. I abhor the idea of any meal time being revolved around my wants and needs and therefore it was difficult for me to have to listen to my parents ask me whether they were eating too early or too late for my liking. I did however, enjoy being able to ask my parents for a dish I desired to eat without the background fear that it would appear I was enjoying food too much.

It scared me to think how much the festive meals would impact my weight over the month and so as I have already admitted, I did start to be conscious of what and how much I ate before my return home for the holidays. I needn’t have worried because my family have never been huge overeaters. It was however, the thought of going to France to my Grandparents for Christmas that instilled the most fear. My grandma is a big believer in feeding her family; she believes that the way to treat us is to cook decadent food and lots of it. So upon our arrival, I was not shocked to find out there was an array of around 7 desserts prepared after a hearty meal. Of course bread is a big aspect of the French’s staple diet; however I am still not comfortable enough to be eating it for enjoyment as an EXTRA to my meal but I did allow myself to indulge in a few of the many desserts that were up for offer. Though meal times are not generally a stress anymore, it was hard not knowing exactly what my grandma would be preparing for us to eat, as she enjoys sneaking in an extra side dish without our assent. When I was younger my granddad used to enjoy bantering around with me about my need to have enough food left for a second helping,  and I therefore found it near impossible to bite my tongue when he tried it with me over Christmas. My granddad pointing out so bluntly that I was enjoying my meal caused a flurry of panic, I maintained calm though and it did not stop me continuing to eat the rest of what was on my plate.

Christmas day was obviously going to be far easier for me this time round than it had been last year. It is a day we all associate with a lot of food (well not just a day but the whole Christmas season if we’re honest!). For starters I am now eating regular food, with regular portions and at a regular pace and the fact that it would be a family affair as opposed to in a restaurant this year was also comforting as I was not embarrassed to ask for something different if I wished. There were many occasions throughout the week in which snacks were laid out prior to the meal and I abstained from eating any, though I would never have done so before. I was just consistently aware that this was an extra amount of calories that were ‘unnecessary’, though I found comfort in seeing the others around me help themselves freely. There were also a couple of occasions whereby the traditional French dish of ‘fois-gras’ was served, the mere mention of the name put me straight off even attempting to eat it- ‘gras’ being a translation of ‘fat’- and therefore required to be served a separate dish to the others.

Unfortunately the moth away was not as restful as I would have hoped; it coincided with the stress of revision for my January exams. Considering the last time I was revising was when I fell ill because I felt food was the only thing I could control, it was inevitable I would be feeling more apprehensive than usual about this period of exams. I find that I needlessly stress myself out, as I would often find myself feeling nauseous after eating food from anxiety. I am therefore relieved that my GP and I have decided to keep me on my course of anti-depressants for the remainder of this school year at least. I have however, finally made it through with little damage to my health apart from an intense exhaustion. One regret is that I was unable to talk this troubling time through with my therapist, as I found it difficult to find the time in the short period I was home. I would like have hoped she would have been happy of my progress and the way I have been able to adapt to my life at university.

I don’t know whether it was the notion that I had eaten a lot back at home, whether it was the result of my renewed freedom or because I felt it was the only aspect I could control, but I have found myself counting calories again. I do not, I am happy to report, do this so that I can stick to a strict amount of calories per day, nor have I taken it to the extent where I measure them to the gram, but I am hoping that this is only a temporary glitch in my recovery. Though I am not back at my full weight I was prior to falling ill, I do consider myself to be out of the weight restoration phase of my recovery and therefore this Christmas season has not dramatically affected my weight. I have started to give in to some temptations and if I was to be offered to eat a chocolate I feel I can allow myself to do so, as well as not feeling that I need to snack in order to have eaten enough that day. It is with this that I am slowly returning to a semblance of normality, though I still juggle with the slight feeling of guilt when I do relinquish my strict control. A year on from my first blog I am slowly but surely becoming Solene again. Recovery need not be just a fairy tale, nor only a possibility but an inevitability.

What Doesn't Kill you Makes you Stronger

Adaptation. When faced with a different environment that is unknown to us, we tend to amend our behaviour in order to conform to what we believe is expected of us. How do you then distinguish between who you really are and want to be and the person that you have been perceived to be in a given situation. In most cases an adaptation can be beneficial, as we are given the opportunity to leave our turbulent past behind and create a more genuine persona, in other cases the change is drastic and turns you into a person you had never wanted to be. Having had an eating disorder whereby I would aim to control every aspect of my eating habits, it is hard for me to not feel completely lost in a situation where I have no control i.e. the way I appear to others. Unfortunately, the freedom of relinquishing control has become so euphoric that I have entered a path of apparent self-destruction where I have no idea how to reign in my emotions anymore in the fear of becoming overly restrictive again. As Christmas approaches I have become increasingly aware of my need for a ‘time out’ from university and the independent life I have been thrown into.

This particular season is always difficult for someone with an eating disorder. The cold weather requires us to consume more calories in order to keep up our body temperature. However, what happens when you are unable to remember how to adapt your intake in moderation in response to your body’s changing needs? Particularly these last couple of weeks, the thought of being back at home with my family has been quite daunting in the respect that I will no longer be entirely in control of what I eat and when I eat again. In a way, it will be a relief to relearn what correct portions are; I continue to worry I overfeed myself, despite me KNOWING that it is doing more good than harm. My grandmother is a firm believer of a hearty meal, always cooking too much for her loved ones and knowing I will be spending the Christmas period with her is quite terrifying in regards to food, no matter how much I look forward to spending quality time with my family. The whole idea of this month being filled with celebrating by eating decadent foods and drinking calorie laden alcoholic beverages has been looming over me for quite some time. I have subconsciously adapted my diet recently in order to ‘prepare’ for the food ahead. I have of course been mindful of just how much I am eating and making the effort to eat a correct amount, however there is the ever present thought of just how much weight I will potentially put on over Christmas.

I now look in the mirror and see the body shape I used to have before I was ill. Despite this when I weigh myself I am only a couple of kilos under my target weight, which makes me wonder what I would look like with that much more weight on me. I foolishly try to rationalise that I need not put any more weight on because I lost all my muscle due to starvation. The common knowledge that muscle weighs more than fat makes me think that maybe I am at a correct weight… It is hard without professional advice to convince myself I should put on more, even though my logical scientific brain knows that I could do with at least a few more grams. What worries me the most is noticing the cellulite that has appeared around my thighs due to the uneven fat deposit which is inevitable after such dramatic weight loss. I am somewhat sickened at the site and I can feel my heart fluttering with fear inside my body upon me seeing it. I am ashamed of it. My upper thigh and bum were my ‘problem’ area prior to developing Anorexia, with their return the anxiety and dislike have also made their appearance. What I must constantly remind myself is just how much I genuinely missed having these features when I was at a low weight and not to fear them but embrace them as who I am. Despite this I cannot help but scrutinise my body in the mirror for where exactly the weight I have gained has accumulated.

Of course anyone looking at me would think me ridiculous for having such petty body hang-ups but they do not truly understand the extent to which my body has changed over the past few months and readapting my mind to seeing a healthier figure in the mirror does take some time and getting used to. With this acceptance however, is coming the increased urge to start exercising and toning up. This is another fear. What if I once again take it too far, or what if I am judged for exercising? Also what if I am restricted from actually exercising from a third party purely because they fear I am returning to old habits? This is a new dilemma I am going to have to face now that my body is returning to normal. Like any normal adult, I must exercise in order to keep fit, it is finding that moderation again and learning to do exercise because I enjoy it as opposed to having a goal to lose weight, is a hurdle I will have to face.

Upon deciding to visit my brother at his university for the weekend I had no time in which to make myself a lunch before I was to leave for my train. I was therefore faced with the task of buying food at the station in which to eat on my journey- this was my chance to challenge myself. I went into the nearest supermarket because I knew there would be calorie information on the food and I was preparing myself for the biggest challenge yet... to eat a sandwich. This daunting task was only slightly appeased with my knowledge that I had had no time to eat breakfast that morning and so a sandwich would not harm me. As part of the supermarket’s mealdeal, I was also able to choose a snack to go along with my sandwich; this turned out to be my very first packet of crisps- doritioes. I did not simply go for a plain sandwich either; I chose a chicken filled sub. I was not so worried because I had the calorie information in front of me to prove that I was not eating an extortionate amount. This fateful day was not to end there with breaking terrific feats; I was to experience my first proper Chinese takeaway with my brother that night. I did not simply go for the duck and pancakes as I usually would, knowing that this would be the least of the calorific dishes. Instead, I chose the dish that sounded most appealing to me on the menu, which is something I would rarely do at a restaurant and I even topped it up with a side dish of rice. Instead of feeling immensely guilty, I was somewhat proud of myself for having achieved this and all in one day. It showed me it only takes a little courage to go a long way in recovery.

I do have my fair share of ups and downs, but with some failures come some victories in my recovery. Yet it seems it is the failures that seem to stick in people’s minds and define me. Nobody can be perfect and I must learn to accept that I cannot please everyone however much I try to change myself. I therefore should stay true to who I am. This however, is made harder with the fact that I have lost my sense of identity and who I am and so it is very much a trial and error game in determining the person I have now become. I want to come across as head strong but I feel unbelievably lost at times and I tend need reassurance from wherever I can get it to show me I am on the right track to recovery. Sometimes I push the boundaries of what is acceptable too far, but this is a learning curve. I am adapting to my second chance at life and it will take time for me to settle into what I am comfortable with.