Pounds in Change

Change. We each have the capability to alter ourselves but whether or not the amendments have positive or negative consequences is left to the significance and motive behind this need to change. Many believe that people are not competent enough to change; who we are within and the principles we were brought up with remain eternally with us due to an impossibility to ‘unlearn’ behaviours. It is only with this attitude however that we set ourselves limits, as any deviance from our expected personality would seem false and therefore deemed both pointless and consequentially too much effort- It isn’t ‘us’ and so we settle with a comfortable side to our personalities. I have found that there is a particular notion that if someone has previously committed an act judged to be inappropriate by today’s society, then we are unwilling to forgive them and accept that they will not do it again. I guess it must be a human instinct to be wary of things we consider to have formerly hurt us and so in a bid for survival we are doubtful of their trustworthiness. But we CAN change and for that reason we are all responsible for not holding someone’s past against them. In accepting a change in someone else we must henceforth change our own perceptions of this person. Communication between two parties will break down should there be a conflict between a belief that an alteration in someone has occurred. It is often a sense of denial and the want to hold on to positive memories that we turn a blind eye to changes. I do not doubt the ability to change (be it for the better or for the worse), as varied experiences impacted throughout our lives have the ability to revolutionise our way of thinking and subsequently our comportment. The turbulence I was made to endure over this past year has modified something within me, no matter the insistence that I am still the person I was before the Anorexia. I cannot deny that these changes have been somewhat positive in their own way.    

What has come as a revelation to me is that I always require some sort of strict regime in my life to feel at ease and therefore when it is not thrust upon me from authority, I seek this solace from other aspects around me. Up until very recently I have now realised that I had begun to use my blog as an obligation I must abide to every week. With a lack of rigidity over the year after having left school, I felt reassured by the comforting familiarity of having something I had to work towards- with recovery not being in the vicinity, a weekly writing target kept me on my toes. Though I no longer control my calorie intake to the extent I had, my need for control shifted to trivialities. What has hence scared me most is the idea that I will never be rid of this necessity to always have a notion of jurisdiction over something or other. Will I be doomed to feel my life has no direction or purpose if I do not comply with a regime? The fear of the unknown has always pushed me towards control, as the uncertainty that lies in my future seems more bearable if I have a hold of where it is heading. I would never have described myself as a ‘free spirit’, yet over the past months when I have challenged myself to override the Anorexia, I have relished in the feeling of liberation. It has led to an acceptance in the fact that my future is not set out for me and that I can alter it along the way and be spontaneous.

The question I have begun to more frequently ask myself is at what point is someone considered to have recovered from Anorexia. The physical recovery is one thing and seems somewhat superficial to that of the one that must occur within the mind, as an entire new mentality is required. I fell into Anorexia fairly easily, slipping into the comforting ritual of controlling and planning everything I was to eat with ease and delight. Giving up something that gives you such a semblance of joy is so difficult that you, the sufferer, are the sole decider of when you decide to take hold of the disorder and fight back. You can chose to reign it in quickly at the first signs or you could chose to fight it later, one thing that is certain is that it will not merely run its course and leave you as quickly and easily as it was adopted. A previously weak-minded person susceptible to being influenced by those around me with the desire to please, I had to transform myself into a fighter- something I was not born into.

The disorder parades itself so openly with the sickly skeletal appearance of its sufferers. I was always very aware of this fact as I watched myself literally waste away before my very eyes and especially when I received the intrusive stares in public. Though I was secretly satisfied at watching the numbers plummet on the scales, the physical translation of what this decent into hell meant was extremely distressing; I wanted to see a miniscule number on the scales but not a miniscule me in the mirror. More recently I have been told that although I am still clearly at a low BMI, I do not look like what many would selfishly dub as ‘Anorexic’. I wondered whether this was purely down to them having gotten used to seeing me so rail thin or whether to others I genuinely portrayed a healthier and fuller figure. The undeniable figure change is a physical sign that I am in recovery, but even when I eventually reach my target weight (to which I am currently just less than 7Kg away from in an estimate of 10 weeks should I continue at the pace I have been restoring) will I be considered recovered? I think not. The mind takes far longer to heal than any physical symptom and therefore I must have the patience to continue to fight even when the scales reveal that I am ‘healthy’.

As I began to list my changes that I would blame on the Anorexia, I realised that the negative ones were simply an intensification of traits I have always possessed; my obsessive need for control, independence, organised rituals and most importantly, success. Does it mean that the changes were not in my personality but my environment? Is it just the world around me and how I fitted into it and adapted myself to it by dulling down some of my qualities whilst amplifying others? No. I believe I have developed a certain courage I had once lacked within myself. I am strong. I am worthy. I can achieve. As a result I have been forced into maturity as anyone must when faced with fighting such a disorder or illness, whilst accepting that I can admit to needing help and not shying away from it when it is offered. My relationships have changed and mainly for the better as I have learnt that I can depend on others around me. I am not alone.

‘A leopard cannot change its spots’ the saying goes, yet this is both a naïve and pessimistic way to judge people. Yes a leopard will always have the same spots inked over its body very much like we will always have a past that we cannot erase, but we should all be given the opportunity to redeem ourselves. I will always have suffered from Anorexia but I will not always be Anorexic. Just take a look at the transition between my first posts and my more recent ones. I have been strong enough to fight for my chance to return to the person I used to be and wipe away the façade the disorder created. Though I am now certain I will continue with my struggle to win, this year will undeniably have left its imprint on me; the experience has caused irrevocable changes. I very much wish at this point in time that I could believe I might one day be able to pick a meal completely care-free of its calorie content as I once did, but my now extensive knowledge of calorie densities will always cause me to think twice before doing so. I have been so open about my plight that even if I now chose to blot out the year, my mind will always drudge up the memory and I won’t be able to lie to myself about how I became the person I am now as a result. Like a chameleon I could blend into the surrounding environment wherever I go-hiding-, yet I will always be the same person who has suffered through an eating disorder; I am not ashamed of having suffered from Anorexia, as I have been fighting my way out of it. I hope to inspire others to make the change for themselves by delivering first-hand the proof of what recovery could eventually bring to a person, yet not fool them into believing it will be easy. Most importantly I hope to change the views that society has on those that have suffered like me from an eating disorder.

Heavyng Myself Forward

Peace. Reaching a state whereby there is no longer any conflict is a somewhat idealistic notion due to the odds of there consistently being mutual agreements between each individual being classified statistically impossible. However, setting the bar for a lower standard of serenity can be achievable if not equally as satisfying. I am of course referring to the luxury of peace of mind. We all aspire to remain at a level of contentment, where envying those we feel are more fortunate than us is a far off nuisance we are beyond fretting about. Though some will claim they have attained this desired state and believe they live comfortably free of dispute, an occasion will inevitably arise where we must debate with ourselves whether we are making the right decisions to maintain our morality. We have been graced with freewill and therefore it is our right to make our own choices. Hence, we will cope with weighing up differing choices. Yet what happens when a conflicting voice such as Anorexia enters the scenario? The introduction of what we might see as a ‘third party’ can disrupt the tranquillity we have built up and our choices no longer become our own, as we are forced into not simply acknowledging but conforming to the masochistic views of the Anorexia. Our desires are left to rot under the new regime the disorder has created, yet as with any war a rebellion can be staged by bitterly fighting to push out the invader; what little hope and glimmer of our former selves that remains is enough with adequate support. Anorexia will not cave unless it is confronted; combatting harder when threatened and so a battle within the ruptured mind must ensue in order to expel it from your conscience. Whilst waging the war against this brute, I have become far more resilient and stronger than I ever was before. If I was forced into admitting that Anorexia has served a purpose whilst leaving me with a positive outcome then it would be that of no longer being so weak as to succumbing to an eating disorder to cope with stress.

In divulging so honestly my experience with an eating disorder, I demolished my protective barrier and left myself open to be criticised and therefore hurt by those reading what I had to say. I never really stopped to contemplate what my sincerity could lead to and that people with whom I had previously socialised with would be initiated into the inner working of my troubled mind.  Though I have undeniably had very positive feedback along the way, only the supportive comments have been available and open to me publically. This leaves me with the paranoid question of, what are those who might ridicule my writing saying without my knowledge. I haven’t previously had reason to deliberate over the integrity of my readers, as I have valued their wholesome support with relish. Yet, a misunderstanding that took place this past week whereby the comments I have received for my work had been mimicked and mocked by an acquaintance, made me wonder whether this was a single case. I took the scorning very personally and was initially hurt that someone could make a joke out of such a tender subject. I am not against a difference of opinion, but when it comes down to sheer mockery, I do not believe there is really any moral reasoning behind it. I chose to rise above the ignorance portrayed on the subject and it served to make me more determined to get my point across that Anorexia is not a joke nor a mere cry for attention.

Having been back from my holiday for over a week now, I have truly been able to reap the benefits of what a few days away from my turbulent life have been able to achieve. Previously stating that there is no overnight change in the way an Anorexia sufferer will think or perceive food still holds true, as recovery is a slow process not made through spontaneous decisions. However, what I had failed to experience up until now is how much completely disrupting a daily routine can alter the way you subsequently carry out your life. I was literally thrown into the deep end, with no time to dip in my toes lightly before taking the plunge. I went from knowing more or less how many calories I consumed a day and keeping track of it in my food diary, to having no clue or even a desire to know the ‘absurd’ amount of calories that were surging through my body over the holiday. In coming back I have abandoned my food diary, feeling that I no longer have a use for it, as I am confident I am attaining a healthy level of nutrition (if not going beyond, translated through my continued successful weight restoration). My diary was like a holy grail to me, as it provided a comfort in the notion of control and relieved me of the stress of not knowing what I was going to eat throughout the day, as each meal including snacks were planned a week in advance. This has been a huge step for me, as the knowledge of my daily calorie consumption has been my comfort blanket for the past year but I feel bare without it but far more mature that I can now handle my own daily nutrition.

A subsequent result of ditching the rigid control I had over the food I was to eat throughout the day has enabled me to relinquish my stubborn need to weigh everything including my morning apple juice and fruit; this is undoubtedly a further encouraging step towards my freedom. I have even been able to eat my mum’s own vinaigrette salad-dressing, which is rich in olive oil. Constantly deliberating over my next meal and when it will be used to govern my social life and every task I was to partake in would HAVE to be in sync with my specific eating patterns as well as factor in the length of time it would take me to finish a meal. Over the past couple of weeks, though I still prefer to take my time when I eat, as I feel force-fed and gluttonous if I was to ‘shovel’ my food down my throat, I have accepted to try a different eating schedule. Instead of a soup for lunch and a larger meal at dinner, I have managed to consume two regular meals consisting of similar portions to that of the rest of my family. I have even set myself the task of eating deserts, which would have been unheard of before going to Florida. I will admit to having overwhelming cravings for these decadent treats before my holiday, but the joy I received from resisting them far out-weighed the guilt I would inevitably be forced to endure should I have succumbed. It took the change of environment to nudge me in the right direction. In a different country you are introduced to foods that are not readily available to you back home and therefore it is almost like a duty to try them whilst you still can. You only live once. A liberated person would try it spontaneously without thinking; I on the other hand had to psyche myself up to beat the Anorexic thoughts before indulging. I must remember deserts are a treat and not an enemy purely there to clog up your arteries and make you appear weak and void of any willpower- if anything they can do nothing but good for me at my current weight. I need not have a desert every day, but should I want one I must learn not refrain due to fear or most importantly the Anorexia’s delight.

My mind is still not inhabited by me alone. The Anorexia though feeble is infuriatingly tenacious and despite the many warnings that the Anorexia might never leave me be, I hope with my entire being to obliterate it. Even if I am offered to try a spoonful of food or merely dip my finger in to taste, the Anorexia will still count it as a calorie allowance I have exhausted and so it is something I abstain myself from. It is frustrating not to be able to act normally and eat things without it having been premeditated beforehand; I want to drive out the grating voice that tells me I do not deserve to indulge and makes me feel weak if I do. The amount of congratulations I received after my revelations last week was surprising, however being told not to fear my progress and being encouraged to do it again made me feel somewhat pressurised. I do not want to disappoint others or myself if I am unable to follow through with what I am believed to be capable of now achieving. I am still restricting myself on the condiments bread and cheese- these having been the first to go. I do aim to one day eat bread with enjoyment again and eventually accept the idea of cheese, though I do not think cheese will ever become part of my daily diet again- it may seem like a shame but it is a compromise I think I will have to make in my recovery. I will continue to fight the Anorexia, in no way am I going to accept it still having a place in my mind even if it is to be locked away tightly. I am slowly phasing the voice out and becoming more accomplished at ignoring it but I will not stop until it has gone.

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.