Time to Bake in the Sunshine State

Consequence.  In different contexts it is either the emphasis on a task being of importance or an event that has happened as a result of undertaking a particular action. Every feat that is executed has repercussions whether they are of benefit or-along with that of others- to our detriment. With the inevitable passage of time, the outcome of each incident flourishes bringing with it an assortment of ensuing emotions. Assessing the potential impact that our actions would make could in theory lead to a more harmonious life void of disappointment, yet there would therefore be no room left for honesty or spontaneity. We would be condemned to exist in a state of mundane contentment, where our day-to-day lives would lack any aspirations or a motivation to challenge or be challenged. In many instances, the process of over thinking will be concluded by the deterrence of what we initially set out to do; we will lose our courage in the faith that we are doing the right thing. The potential- if somewhat foreseeable- arousal of regret that may follow an action would set a limit as to what we are prepared to say or do should we over-anticipate; we can easily dissuade ourselves in a bid for protection from the resulting guilt. Though to this day my mum still regrets the day she shouted out ‘You are Anorexic’ to me, had she stopped and held her tongue, my realisation of how deeply I had succumbed to the Anorexia would not have been apparent- denial would have taken over. Therefore the consequence of this consequential outburst has led me to where I am now a full year later, benefitting from what the experience has taught me and in a much better state of mind in sharing my story and raising awareness.

I have always pessimistically felt that positive momentous occasions present themselves very rarely in my life and since my disorder began I have seldom had reason to celebrate and make the most of situations. However, this past week has been one that will hopefully be pivotal in returning to a sense of normality and will certainly stick in both my mind and that of my dad’s with whom I shared it with. A few months ago I was presented with the opportunity to escort my dad on a business trip to Florida to which I took the brave (to many I may seem selfishly lucky) decision to accept. A rationally minded person would immediately jump at the chance to visit a hot country with no qualms, but as an Anorexia sufferer my thoughts were initially directed to how I would cope with American sized portions and restaurants every evening; a million miles from my comfortable routine. My mind flitted around with the negatives and though I really wanted to go, I was reluctant to let myself look forward to it. My Anorexia found fear around almost every corner regarding this holiday, as I believe it knew that I would be in an environment whereby I would find it easier to conquer it. My first hurdle came with asking for time off work after having had problems in February with my family skiing trip- I felt almost certain I would not have the week authorised. Fortunately this having not been the case, my flight was booked and I was to spend 5 luxurious days in Fort Lauderdale, Florida.

The anxieties ripened the more I allowed myself to think about what I had just agreed to take on and therefore before my departure I did not have any expectations of what the short week would entail. I knew my dad was explicitly in Florida on business and this would therefore be his priority meaning I would very much be left to my own devices during the day. The thought of complete independence terrified me, as I would not have the familiar comfort of those close to me to protect me from the darkness of Anorexia; I was scared of being alone. In October I took up my job in retail as a means to distract myself from constantly thinking about food. With the idea that I would be spending numerous hours of my day simply lounging by the pool, I anticipated to be plagued by a constant stream of thoughts on my upcoming and previous meals. I equally fretted over the certainty of jetlag, due to the feeling of tiredness having become psychologically linked with how frail I was when I was hardly feeding myself. The consequence of having nourished myself correctly over the past few months eliminated the potency of these anxieties; they merely became petty nuisances.  I am much stronger now than I give myself credit for and my willingness to be myself again overcame the Anorexia.

Following a disastrous weight loss after last year’s summer holiday, I had my reserves at my capabilities to cope with feeding myself. Though I was able to challenge myself when I went skiing, the public hotel environment would be vastly different to the homely and comfortable one in the mountains. Both my therapist and my mum questioned whether I had any worries about the nutritional aspect of the holiday, but I was adamant that I would not think about it beforehand. I would preserve my ability to be spontaneous instead of opting out from eating something I crave due to the Anorexia having time to deviously hatch its malicious thoughts in my mind and most importantly refrain from the inescapable stress that would have built up. I made myself remember however, that I AM in a lighter place now and further along the path of recovery than I could have ever hoped for at this stage. With this in mind, I could only believe I would defeat my demons and enjoy the holiday to its full potential. What neither I nor my dad were prepared for was quite how much I was able to take advantage of the holiday environment. I was prepared to completely lose my independence surrounding food, having been warned there were no self-catering facilities within my hotel room and so all 3 of my daily meals (not forgetting snacks) would have to be consumed without prior knowledge of its weight or calorie content. This for me was to be a huge leap further than the once a week evening dining out experiences I had been partaking in back home.  I was to eat every meal in front of strangers bearing every quirk I have with my eating habits along with my tendency to eat slowly. Forget all my trivial fears, this was going to be undeniably my BIGGEST challenge yet.

Through the way I was raised, I have always cleared my plate, rarely leaving food that has been served to me go to waste. When I was ill, I would compensate by simply serving myself a far smaller portion and avoided calorie dense foods, maintaining the illusion of clearing my plate. It also enabled me to know exactly how many calories I was having, as for me it was not simply aiming to have as little calories in total as possible, it was also the control from knowing exactly how much I had consumed to the last decimal. Knowing this, I have come to an agreement with my parents that I will eat the same meals as them without weighing my portion providing they serve me an equal helping to their own; so far this has worked with few dilemmas or stress on my part. However, my experience of American restaurants is that of serving plus size portions and so the primary thought was even if I couldn’t entirely finish what was on my plate, how would I know when I had had reasonable amount? Plane food also has a bad reputation with a limit of choice between two hot meals and this being the first of what I felt to be sure of a week of calorie laden meals, I had to seek reassurance from my dad that the portions would be reasonable and I would be served foods I could eat. I left for the airport having had my usual breakfast of porridge and juice and had a pre-prepared snackbowl of nuts and dried fruit and an apple for the plane. Despite my fears of what food was to be presented to me in the plane, I opted to have a skinny cappuccino before boarding and I even brought myself a tube of smarties. This would have been unheard of had I been with other members of my family, as I would not have been able to cope with their joy in my abilities to relinquish my control and indulge. Though I had aimed to eat half the tube of smarties in order to achieve an appropriate number of calories for the day, I managed only 5 before the guilt overwhelmed me. I must remember to congratulate myself however, as this was no small feat.

First Cocktail

Prior to last week, I had not touched a drop of alcohol since my single glass of white wine on Christmas day, due to my notion that they are unnecessary empty calories. To my surprise when my dad and I went for our first meal out upon my arrival, instead of going for the regular celebratory diet coke I chose a large glass of a fruity frozen cocktail (calorie rich with the liquor AND sugary fruit juices). Having little to soak up the alcohol it hit me very quickly and so I lost all inhibitions when ordering my main meal of grilled tuna with shrimp and rice. The food arrived with two big slabs of tuna and 6 prawns. I immediately told my dad I would eat only one single tuna; I ate one and a half, all my rice and prawns, finishing off the meal with a square of a peanut butter chocolate bar. For breakfast I had anticipated there to be a buffet and so I believed I could choose from an array of cereals and fresh fruit and serve myself the portions I wanted. Wrong. We arrived and it was a la carte. Scanning the menu I was extremely worried; the huge portions were to start first thing in the morning as well!! I chose a berry yogurt with granola and my very first banana in a year. I washed each breakfast down with two large glasses of apple juice. I finished everything. What this meant however, was that there was no need for me to have a nut snack before my lunch and so I entered the poolside bar with hunger and enthusiasm by ordering a tuna nicoise salad with dressing and a pina colada on the side. I was really going for it. The evening followed and the knowledge that I had drunk a cocktail meant that I was unable to allow myself to order one that evening. I however did not feel I missed out as I still ordered what I wanted from the menu and ate it all. The next couple of days followed the same breakfast and light lunch routine though I did order a ceasar salad AND ate the parmesan in it as well as a turkey and bacon wrap respectively. The biggest shock came when I decided I wanted a desert. I had to tell my dad my desires before my Anorexia convinced me not to have one, that way I could remain on the path of my cravings. We had ice-creams. Two HUGE scoops (this is not my Anorexia’s exaggeration) and I honestly didn’t think I would finish it before the thoughts stopped the spoon from returning to my mouth, but I managed it with minimal guilt and we returned for ice-cream on the next three days that ensued but only on my insistence!

I hadn’t realised but my dad pointed out that up until this holiday, I had never been able to admit to being hungry. I washed down a daily fruity cocktail and ordered food I WANTED to eat rather than searching high and low on the menu for the meal with the least number of calories. This is the first time in a long time I resisted the Anorexia’s urge to go for the lightest dish available and even had a starter before my main meal. I was eating normally for anyone on holiday. INDULGING! Of course there was the enjoyment too. Though the Americans are extremely accommodating when you order, I was afraid and too embarrassed to ask them to heat up my food when it got cold and so left it to my dad. The first biggest bought of guilt came when I decided to go for the stack of granola blueberry pancakes for my fourth breakfast after they had caught my eye the first morning. I had been putting off ordering them every time but felt that I would somewhat regret not having American pancakes whilst in America. The stack arrived and there were 5 large ones with a huge bowl of maple syrup on the side. My first reaction to my dad was, ‘I won’t eat all of them’ he simply replied that I could eat as much as I wanted. I started off by pouring a minimal amount of syrup to ‘preserve’ the calories but ended up decanting the entire serving on my pancakes… as well as eating all 5 of them. It was after my third however, that the thoughts started. ’What are you doing??’ my Anorexia was yelling inside me but I managed to hold on to myself and what I, Solene wanted and persevered with my breakfast. I even ordered them for a second time for my last breakfast in Florida. 

My reluctance to challenge myself until I am introduced to a different environment is not simply based on the comfort of a daily routine into which you get stuck, but it is down to the idea that if I do then I will be expected if not required to repeat my accomplishments without any underlying issues.  Following an ability to eat ice-cream on holiday, my parents asked me what deserts I would be willing to eat at home, as if it should become normal for me to eat them regularly. I felt somewhat pressurised though they assured me they were not pushing me towards doing anything I was not comfortable with. I find it virtually impossible to directly reveal information verbally, as I find it difficult to cope with a reaction first hand. So I write, preferring to have people asses what I have to say before relaying their thoughts to me. My sister is the only one with whom I have been able to share this vocally, but the consequence of my week of impulsiveness and extravagance has led to an exorbitant weight gain. Each time I ate on holiday, I told myself to simply enjoy it and any weight gained would be that much less to reaching my goal, yet up until now due to experiencing weight gain very slowly, this amount of restoration has scared me. I feel ridiculously guilty for putting so much on in a week and I am afraid to further indulge in case the gaining does not stop past my goal. This is a ridiculous notion I will hopefully soon grow out of, as the benefits of what I managed to achieve on holiday far outweigh my Anorexia’s guilt. Having had my dad constantly relay to my mum all my achievements, they were both in the loop. Their joy was as if I was being born again; seeing me eat and enjoy it had the very same effect on them.

The Skull and Crossbone Warning

Appearance. One way to look at it is as the outward view people have of you that is manifested upon our exteriors. Curiously, it can also be a way that we can falsely portray ourselves to be visibly regarded one way, such as the pretence of an air of confidence hiding the inner turmoil of one’s mind. I find myself acting like a tediously broken record in saying that the society we live in is extremely judgemental; a dilemma likely to persist. Why is it that we will now find it acceptable to deem someone to be too tall or too small, beautiful or ugly… too fat or too skinny? By masquerading opinions as facts it creates a semblance of there being boundaries and limits whereby we can allow others to perceive people in such a way; this inevitably creates prejudice. I am not trying to pose as a prophet by preaching about our ‘inner beauty’- we are all shallow to some degree- but what may seem superficially pleasing to one, has the potential to appear in a contradictory fashion to another. We are not all set to employ conformity on what we find attractive- as attempted (and thankfully failed) by the Nazi’s Aryan race- and we should therefore embrace diversity. The discretion our culture once held over what would have been considered to be inappropriate to be spoken aloud has somewhat dissolved in the past few decades. The polite tactful comments we once would have made to one another upon the summoning of an unavoidably awkward conversation, have lost all their former subtlety. We will now verbally express every thought that crosses our mind, regardless of their impact or consequence. Diplomacy has all but disappeared to be replaced by a harsh bluntness, wreaking havoc on an individual’s self-esteem. It is little wonder that we therefore focus a lot of our attention on our self-image, especially in the meticulous depicting of what are actually our unique assets as flaws and blemishes.

We are all victims of self-objectification, which is the way we believe we are perceived through the eyes of an external observer. Alongside the evolution of a lack of sensitivity in our culture, it is easy to see how we can be tempted to follow down a detrimental path to the way we actually want to be identified; one of the many reasons which can lead to disordered eating. My substantial skills of restriction were not only vital for my Anorexia in making me emaciated, but in kerbing my true personality in a bid to want everyone to like me. My intense dissatisfaction due to what I saw were my failures led to intense anxieties when I was to perform a task that could hinder the way people viewed me- magnified by my depression. I dispensed a vast amount of energy in attempting to socialise and be amicable during this period, as I was obsessively vigilant and alert of every look I received from the public; this being especially challenging when I was working in retail 5 days a week. Paranoia was one of my biggest enemies, transforming almost any comment directed at me or any look thrown my way as one that was judgemental against my weight I would let it get to me and saw it as a personal insult, though I believed it was deserved. I was recently congratulated on how I ‘coped’ when I was at my worse, due to the acquisition of a dark humour. I would laugh off my disorder and make a joke of my skinniness in the hope that in making fun of myself, people would not find it necessary to make derogatory remarks- a habit I have not quite let go of. The false confidence I enveloped myself in however, did not serve to delude me in how miserable I really was but only pushed me to fight harder to hide it; I saw it as a further vulnerability. In this way, I appeared to be handling my disorder and even managed to fool many of those around me that I was in recovery or at least wanting to recover- it is almost laughable now at how far from the truth this was at the time.

 After losing what surmounted at my very worst to be a grand total of 13Kg from what was previously an athletically slender frame, I was distraught at the way I had destroyed my body. The only fitting description being I looked like a corpse. What accentuated the change in my appearance was the revolted stares and double takes people would make when I passed them in public- with someone even going as far as placing their fingers around my frail wrist to emphasise their puniness. The lack of discretion people held for me served as an excuse in my depressed state to remain inside, making no effort in the way I looked by abandoning my make-up regime (a dire transformation after having been previously unable to even answer the door without mascara) and even finding it gruelling to summon the motivation to have a shower and wash my hair. I believed there was no point in attempting to primp and prime myself when any beautification would be utterly ignored; the sole out-shiningly prominent feature under scrutiny was my horrifically bony body. I resolved to completely neglect myself due to a notion that I should be brutally punished for my failures and I was adamant in rejecting any form of personal indulgence. It typically became a vicious cycle; the worse I looked and the thinner I became, the more I would seek comfort from the Anorexia’s false sense of control. For a long time the thought of a UK size 6 (not a healthy dress-size for someone of 1.73m/5ft7.5) hanging off my hideously mutilated carcass, would send an overwhelming wave of anguish. The only way to rectify the damage would be weight restoration. During the bleakness I would question my desire to get better, I knew I was bitterly distressed by the way my body had been maimed by starvation, yet the sheer knowledge that eating density rich foods was the ‘simple’ solution, was an aspect I was not quite ready to accept. Any coaxing from other parties telling me it was my medicine went completely ignored. The tremendous relief achieved from being liberated of depression and finally successfully beginning to conquer my Anorexia, means I no longer dread the ever increasing numbers on my weighing-scales. In prevailing over the disorder I can will myself to see each gram that has been restored to its rightful place as an achievement.

My weight restoration has inevitably been responsible in making me look more wholesome, which has been accompanied by the gratifying compliments that have recently incessantly been made on how much healthier I appear. What makes the praise so much more fulfilling lies in the knowledge that my renewed glow is not just a façade; I am genuinely feeling a lot more triumphant and infused with a revitalised energy. It is shocking to think that though I still bear the evidence of having been malnourished, I have put on 3.5Kg since January when I started writing with the genuine desire for recovery. This slight but significant incline in weight has layered itself over my body to form a fuller face and the embarrassingly joyous reappearance of curvature to my bum. After the further weight loss following my relapse, I have managed to restore (and more) the precious pounds I lost to attain the weight I was last summer. I decided therefore to revisit the pictures that were taken of me on my summer holidays to see how I now compare to them. A picture is worth a thousand words. I find it needless to further add a commentary upon my reaction to the discovery of the pictures. I will let it speak for itself…

Miss Takes Educates

Mistakes. As humans we are rarely immune to the occasional mishap whereby the results of a particular event are not as we intended them to be. It is however how we deal with such blunders that distinguish the overall effect the results will have on the rest of your life or that of those around you.  Moving on from a mistake can take time depending on the enormity of its outcome and how much of a detrimental impact it has caused. The inflicted others have the potential to bear a grudge for an immeasurable amount of time and so though you will probably never forget, the constant reminder of your lapse in judgement will make it difficult to move on. As is typically recited, we all learn from our mistakes. It is not simply about setting out to rectify the damage, but there is equal importance held in what the experience has taught us. Though I admit to being a sceptic, there is to some extent a truth in that everything happens for a reason. I do not believe that our lives have been predestined for us in a way that we are fated to follow down a particular path, yet I do believe the aftermath of an atrocity can be led to a somewhat miraculous conclusion- unobtainable should you have made alternative decisions. Every cloud has a silver lining. It would be irrational to live in regret- you cannot change the past. My Anorexia has been my biggest mistake as of yet, though I cannot deny that the joyous events I would have previously been dubious of their likelihood of ever occurring, have surprisingly ensued as a result. I do not feel I should owe my Anorexia anything, but my life seems to have transpired in a beneficial way.

I am using my own experience to vocalise an honest description of what it is like to suffer from Anorexia, what the disorder is, how we deal with it and more painfully what the cause was. Though it is a very personal account, I feel I can of sorts vouch for others in a similar situation without sounding insincere. I have been alerted to the notion society has of mistakenly labelling a skinny person as ‘anorexic’. I continue to accentuate the complexity of Anorexia whereby it should not or CANNOT be used as an undermining insult to non-sufferers who happen to be of a slimmer nature. Our culture has begun to use valid medical terms in a derogatory way, such is the case with the word ‘spastic’, which had been previously a socially legitimate way to describe a person suffering from muscle spasms such as cerebral palsy. It is in using Anorexia in such a demeaning fashion that we underestimate its severity and create the misconception that it is purely a weight issue; it is more than this, it is a mental condition which affects the way we perceive our emaciated selves by surrendering to a punishing and gruelling starvation regime. Society has managed to blur the lines between what is truly Anorexia or simply a radical diet. You cannot switch off Anorexia or fall off the dieting band-wagon as it were by greedily indulging when the temptation becomes too much to bear. There is no allowance for spontaneous snacking. Ever. Each decision on what we are to eat requires immeasurable scrutiny and an agonising mental battle before it can even be conjured up before us. In re-establishing the foundations, the stigma associated with the disorder can be rectified in such a way that people will no longer be afraid to speak out and ask for help. 

Annoyrexia

Frustration. An emotion that is derived from the Latin translation of ‘in vain’- the term used to describe the uselessness of a task or its lack of effective results. This sentiment can be felt upon the annoyance borne from not achieving a standard that you had formerly believed to be your best; often ensued from setting the bar too high for yourself. It can equally be experienced when an obstacle causes a hindrance which prevents us from achieving the task we set out to do. With a mental disorder such as Anorexia, the frustrations cultivate inside of you at your inability to be competent enough to battle life’s numerous and inevitable impediments. Soon enough the build-up causes the feelings to erupt out in an uncontrollable and often unconstructive way hence forcefully ejected from us as anger. I would ridicule my primary school headmaster who would call upon his ‘feely-bottle’ in school assemblies to metaphorically portray how we can keep our emotions at bay in a tightly lidded bottle until it would become too full and burst open. At a young age we are rarely vexed by the anticipated disappointments in life, blessed with a blissful ignorance of the pain these dissatisfactions lead to. I therefore did not appreciate the full significance of his teaching. Experience is the only true way that can lead to a complete understanding by imparting us with an incontestable knowledge. Anorexia has enlightened me of life’s perils in a way that has forced me to mature beyond my years. There is a persistent frustration that prowls about my mind, endlessly clawing at the impenetrable barrier created by my Anorexia that prohibits me from eating particular foods. Overwhelming frustration will rear within me again when my body is incapable to perform in the way I will it to, due to the consequential physical weakness from my months of forced starvation. I have suppressed this feeling for far too long, unwilling to unnecessarily further the burden of my illness on others. It has come to the stage where I must vent.

Having finally reached a stage whereby I do not punish myself so much for succumbing to the Anorexia and by only permitting myself to carry the entire blame of the subsequent issues, I get distressed upon hearing people judge my eating disorder as ‘self-inflicted’. I recently read the daily mail which included an article on ‘manorexia’ (term coined to describe male Anorexia sufferers) to satisfy my curiosity on what the media and its readers had to say on eating disorders so I studied the piece and its comments to its entirety. Though I am aware that these tabloids horde a range of extremely opinionated people, I was not quite prepared to have divulged to me so blatantly the attack on the seemingly selfish demeanour of Anorexia sufferers. A poignant comment left by a prejudiced and judgemental reader stated ‘Great. Just what the NHS needs. More self-inflicted illnesses’ and further insulted Anorexia sufferers by deeming them ‘self-absorbed’. Only upon reflection however, do I realise why this particular critique disgruntled me to such an extent; the reader made a verdict that we did not deserve NHS help unlike the unpreventable physical disease sufferers such as cancer. This concept has crossed my mind many a time and I still cannot find it within me to shake away the theory that I brought it upon myself so I do not warrant any help, let alone be praised for my ‘bravery’ at writing about my experience. I unfortunately don’t believe I will ever fully be able to eradicate this feeling though I have in time learnt to accept that I- like any rational being- did not choose to become ill. I was hurt by these false allegations presented in spiteful words which caused a maddening anger to arise in a bid to defend myself and other sufferers. I feel such exasperation in the knowledge that I cannot make anyone who has not fallen victim to Anorexia fully comprehend the disorder (obviously not wishing it to befall on anyone), yet I still feel I have achieved a clarification of the disorder to those who wish to understand.

Heavily Aweighted Apologies

Sorry. A five letter word that in many cases must be wrenched from our unwilling mouths to apologise for something we have done badly. Its use has been exploited to such an extent whereby it is near impossible to achieve any semblance of sincerity from it being spoken aloud, sounding almost phony to its intended recipient. This poses a dilemma when one feels a genuine regret for the hurt they have caused and wishes to apologise with true honesty, with no word able to convey the depth of their remorse. Subsequently, we are submerged in our guilt due to the inability to express our grief for what we have done to another- unable to ask for their forgiveness. The culpability swallows you up by burdening you with a horde of unresolvable ‘what ifs’. The key is not to look back in regret but to instead strive to solve your wrongdoing by actively showing redemption until you have reached the atonement you sought out for. If we are willing enough, we can all be forgiven. It is of importance to remember however that you cannot begrudge the life you could have had if you had behaved differently but aim to make your future more satisfying by learning from your mistakes; it is only through experiencing blunders that we can make a conscious effort to change. As a sufferer of Anorexia Nervosa, it took the acceptance of the offenses I had instigated since succumbing to the spiteful disorder to begin the journey I am currently on to recovery. I hurt my most cherished relations by permitting the Anorexia to exile me from the very people who could lend me the most support. In becoming so insular I disregarded the emotions of others, deliberately severing the vital connection I had with them due to my Anorexia’s need to conquer me.  The disorder required me to isolate myself in order to continue to vanquish the person I once was by segregating me from those who would keep me on the path of sanity. Though I am consistently doubtful of the way people can truly care about me, the only way of pushing those who would aid me to recovery away was to hurt them. And so I did. For this I am sorry.

I was lulled into a trance created by my Anorexia, which led me to believe my success in rigidly controlling my food and exercise was the only way of consoling me of my previous failures. What it failed to allow me to notice was the pain it caused others to see me destroy myself and outwardly enjoy it. I was selfish. Snapping out of this dream-like state brought about the realisation of how much damage I had done socially, but the true comprehension was only gleaned upon reading the testimonies I asked my family to write. Though it is normal for every family to argue, last year I seemed to be at the centre of every debate that ensued within my household. It was therefore difficult for me not to feel to blame for each and every quarrel, despite my parents’ insistence that if it wasn’t about me they would have disputed another subject. These family debates are normal, however the ones between my sister and I were on an altogether more significant level. My siblings processed my disorder in an altogether different way to that of my parents, unsurprising due to the unique relationship one has with their brother or sister. I believe my siblings and I have learnt from our dad in the way we keep our deepest sentiments buried underneath layers of false contentment- hence the way they therefore coped with my Anorexia is utterly mystifying to me. I am in no doubt however, that the resulting angry outbursts and spiteful comments we made to one another was a mere glimpse of the tumult within. Thus it was with intense trepidation that I explored the intricate layers of their thoughts and feelings.   

Weighing Up the Consequences

Guilt. Being guilty comes from the actual perpetration of a crime but the sentiment of guilt has an altogether ulterior meaning. Guilt is a feeling that occurs upon the realisation of any wrongdoing we may-or even in some cases may not- have done; it is often followed by an inevitable regret. We are all guilty of many things and depending on the type of person we have been raised to be it always differs to what degree we wish to admit to having caused offense hence embracing to being at fault. Occasionally, we are so wrapped up in our own lives we inflict pain upon others unintentionally, which leads to a natural feeling of guilt. This is exactly the case with Anorexia Nervosa sufferers. Having been so insular these past months I could only speculate at the hurt I caused my family, blaming myself a lot of the time for any argument which had arisen this past year. I can see that I appeared very selfish and so that guilt has overwhelmed me to the extent of nearly destroying me; I can never be sorry enough.

Asking my closest relations to write their sentiments behind me and my development of Anorexia was not an easy feat. I was touched by their acceptance of the task and in the mature way even my younger sister handled reliving and visiting the obvious resentment towards me. I willed them to be as honest as humanly possible, as only from a true testimony can one really understand what it is like for the family members. I respect them for their honesty. I knew it would be a gruelling read having had a prior inkling of what their true feelings were. In reality, I could never have been truly prepared to read what they had to say. For once I can see what it must have really been like for them after having had the harsh honesties lain so starkly in front of me. Every poignant revelation was a truth I had deep down known to be a fact but had attempted to turn a blind-eye on, as it hurt me too much to accept. My brother would always say ‘the truth hurts’ when we would play fight as younger children. Though I had always been sceptical of its meaning due to the way he had always used it to mock me, these words spoken by a young boy are some of the wisest. I can no longer hide from these accounts. They are genuine…

Weight Lifting

Challenge. We all know what this word means, but to find a definition is- well- a challenge in itself isn’t it? Challenging is a demand made to someone whereby they must show their strength and determination in completing an arduous task. Such traits are required of a person should they want to accomplish the challenge with a flourish, as they are demanding to conquer in both a physical and mental way. In such situations where your abilities are tested to their full extreme, it is easy to give up, as the completion of the task is a chore requiring more energy than you have to offer. This is where the fortitude of willpower is essential. Every life is filled with challenges, whether they are big, small, quick or tedious but the same level of satisfaction is achieved upon each of their completion. For Anorexia Nervosa sufferers everything revolves around a challenge; we pursue every opportunity to push ourselves and face them head on. Anorexia prospers in a miserable environment by misleadingly disguising itself as a friend and comfort blanket, isolating you from any true human support. Like the snake in Genesis it malevolently coerces us to enter tasks we KNOW we cannot complete so it can come to our ‘rescue’ upon the need to punish ourselves for our failures. The mission to overcome and beat Anorexia is no easy feat, but every seemingly miniscule step towards the light is an accomplishment; I must force myself to remember this in a bid to keep me motivated for recovery. In having willingly entered myself in the battle against Anorexia, I have since grabbed the bull by the horns and turned the challenges it has catapulted at me to my OWN advantage by counteracting the malicious thoughts it strives to implant in my mind. I am no longer going to let this disorder win without putting up a fight. I have had a taster (if you’ll pardon the pun) of what it is like to be me again and I am neither willing nor prepared to give it up again so easily. So I have compelled myself to set a string of daily challenges that I MUST and WILL complete in order to keep ploughing forward in recovery.

My parents have been constantly vigilant of everything that I consume throughout the day since realising that I could not be left utterly to my own devices. They do however, let me get on more or less with what I feel comfortable eating. Though it took them a long time- through a natural desire to protect their child- they reluctantly relinquished their power over what I chose to eat (not how much though!).  It has therefore only been upon my own decision that I would decide to accomplish a task involving ‘forbidden’ food. Rather traditionally, my family and I would always gather for dinner together in the evening, sharing our day with one another and bond over the home cooked food my parents always had prepared for us. I disrupted this familiar pattern by letting Anorexia selfishly intrude in meal-times and destroyed any jovial family chatter there might have been around the table. The competitive jibes I would make about my ‘larger’ portion size would tumble out without restraint and the incessant wariness required to keep the comments they made on my eating habits at bay at the risk of offending me, caused a tension-filled environment; it was far from ideal for our family bonding. I even went as far as developing a ridiculous sense of jealousy when my dog did not eat her food. Fortunately my competitiveness increasingly died down over time, as I was eating a different meal to my family at dinner- though it did create a bizarre setting whereby I would never be eating the same thing. My refusal to eat their food might have seemed somewhat offensive to my parents who would painstakingly slave away in the kitchen after a hard day’s work; they never complained however, as they were just glad I was eating. I hate being the odd one out and the fact I was eating so differently to them (having it regularly rendered obvious when my dad would innocently mention ‘what you’re having smells nice tonight, what is it?’) would uncomfortably draw attention to me whilst eating at meal times. I must therefore return to normality by eating home-cooked food again. It would be the biggest shame for me to continue denying myself the foods I had so loved whilst growing up- my parents being particularly gifted cooks. I have therefore in the past couple of weeks decided to eat the same meal as my family at least twice a week. So the series of challenges began.

Special Treatment

Psychotherapy. This takes place in a private place and enables you to talk about yourself, relieving your anxieties and emotions in a bid to learn the basis of these sentiments without judgement. The exploration delves deep into the sub-conscious of your mind to uproot revelations- something we are rarely forthcoming to do without coaxing. People will seldom admit to needing help or finding comfort in someone else at the risk of seeming reliant on this source. Reluctance to expose ourselves to someone we barely know leaves you requiring to build a trusting relationship between you and your therapist before any rummaging can be made. This particular connection with a therapist can take months to construct, whereby until you feel ready, you will not fully disclose all the information by withholding the brunt of your angst and divulging the bare minimum. Therapy can be regarded as a relationship between you and the therapist, as they will become someone you feel you can trust so the sessions are often focused on an engagement with the therapist other than just plain old treatment. With most psychological issues, there is no single cure that will work reliably time and time again, unlike a physical pain which can disappear by popping a pill. A trained therapist must adapt their way of helping each individual via trial and error techniques, as no two patients are alike, finding benefits within the various treatments. What makes therapy so different for each case, is that no one person will be the same or will seek solace from a therapist for the same reason no matter how similar their background situations might be. Due to the slightly different approach each therapist undergoes with treatment, some patients will prefer to shift through different therapists, whilst other find it more useful to stick to the one they feel most at ease with. With each patient that undergoes treatment, a therapist will learn something new, as a successful recovery is achievable mostly by experimental practices. With Anorexia Nervosa, due to the diverse causes by which someone may develop the disorder, it is tricky to produce the correct method of treatment straight away. Rarely will a proposed treatment be effective on the first attempt, therefore reinforcing that there is no ‘quick-fix’ method to recovering from Anorexia.

Aweighting Recovery

Expectations. Whether it is what we want to do with our lives or what others would wish upon us, the need to fulfil our deepest desires leads to an inevitable requirement to succeed. Taking the shortest path is usually the easiest option in the trouble-free seeking way of life our society has adopted. Though it may be the quickest way to reach the top it is very often by far the least painless way. We must unknowingly sacrifice a lot along the way and the making of rash decisions leaves us more often than not in regret, as we have not contemplated the outcomes or impact of taking such a leap. Rushing to reach the top would be accomplishing our dreams as quick as possible but when you take stock and look around, you realise that in taking the easy route you have lost a lot more than you have gained. I try not to be pessimistic but the typical warning of the higher you climb the further you have to fall does hold some logic, however I believe you will only fall by climbing hastily causing you to lose your footing and to stumble to your defeat. In taking it steady and earning your way to the top, only then do you feel worthy of that prime position. The comfort of knowing it is deserved leads to a determination to stay at the top surrounded by those who supported you along the- perhaps longer and more turbulent but more successful- way. When suffering from Anorexia Nervosa, pushing yourself towards the goal of recovery when you are not fully ready, leads to a foreseeable relapse.

The constant opposing thoughts which are like forceful repelling magnets in your mind make the step to attempting recovery very tough. After the first meeting with the consultant who officially diagnosed my Anorexia, he revealed the harsh truth that my rate of weight loss had surmounted to a terrifying 1Kg per week; fatal when at a BMI (body mass index) of 14.8. My primary ‘increase your calories as quick as possible’ approach to recovery was due to not being endorsed in my Kavos holiday with my friends ‘unless there was evidence of her starting to gain weight’. I increased my calorie intake from the dangerously low amount to an acceptable 1800 within a matter of a couple of weeks after the meeting. My dad, who had been away to America for a week when I first augmented my regime, was ecstatic to come back to me eating at a regular pace and an acceptable portion of food (only acceptable compared to what I had been previously consuming).  Some would say that this overnight change was miraculous but it was just an exterior, a ‘healthier’ front I was putting on in order to go on my holiday. In actual fact, had people been able to read my mind, they would have seen the turmoil I was in. Despite fervently declaring that I wanted to get better and knowing that I WANTED to put on weight, I was very aware that I was not ready for the actual process required for weight regain; this being a diet of the recommended 2500 calories a day. This contradicting factor led me to question my motivation to get better. The idea of eating so many calories repulsed me, whereas any rational person would revel in the ability to indulge in ‘forbidden’ foods. I had made a snap decision clouded by my stubborn determination to not be incarcerated at home during the summer; this decision was detrimental due to its hastiness. In the confines of the meeting rooms with my dietician I would agree to reintroduce a particular food to my strict diet, when in my heart of hearts I knew this was a complete lie. Lying was easy when the meetings were one to one and so my parents had no idea about the meal plan set for me by my dietician. This made it subsequently simple for me to pretend to my dietician that I had been following through with the plan at home, hiding the hand-written plans at the back of my food diary never to be frequented. My need for independence made consenting to adhere to a meal plan easier said than done.  

Anorexolympics

Competition. This is a basic instinct within every living organism in the struggle for survival. Like a true masochist, Anorexia Nervosa relishes in out-competing and dominating everything it can get its iron grip around and will become a very sore loser. Should you try desperately and take hold of its ominous presence, it will fight tooth and nail to regain its control over you- never giving up. Although I have previously scorned the notion that Anorexia is borne from the media and was dubious of their allegiance, I cannot completely eradicate the fact that with all the information we have access to nowadays, it feeds the cut-throat nature of the illness by encouraging the spawning of this disorder. Our health concerning food and exercise has become such an obsession within our culture that people will share very openly their own day to day regimes, creating a world of opportunity that I as a sufferer could compete against. Whether it was the portion size and calorie intake or amount of exercise someone partook in, I would feel an urgent need to compare myself to others in order to make sure I was eating less or doing more physically, getting irrationally jealous if I wasn’t able to do ‘better’ than them. This was my way of making sure that I was a winner, when in actual fact I was losing myself in the illness and letting it take me over. My sixth form common room hoarded the girls in and was a hostile place where discussions orientated solely around exercise and dieting; it was a breeding ground for competitive behaviour and eating disorders. There is a lot out in the world that can spike the addiction of Anorexia, which I came to realise when I was in the trance created by the disorder.

The internet is full of resources for Anorexia to satisfy its craving for competition. I personally found it a valuable source where I could gain all sorts of information in order to be able to compare my own diet. With the world of different diets available to the public soaring to an uncountable quantity, it was very easy for me to plug ‘* calorie diet’ into my search engine and be presented with an insane amount of others’ ‘exemplary’ regimes. What I failed to allow myself to notice when I would click on such a link, was the warning that these low-calorie diets should be executed under supervision of a GP and for a period of no longer than 2 weeks at a time. I would block out any caution by convincing myself that I was doing myself no harm, even though I was clearly becoming dangerously ill. I cannot call my particular calorie target a diet in any way shape or form, as I can now see that no one can sufficiently live off what I was consuming. I would use these online ‘diets’ as a guideline and barrier to how much I could allow myself to have and under no circumstances should I have more than what was online. Upon reading a very low calorie diet and acknowledging I was having less, I would feel giddy with happiness for no justifiable reason.