Euphoric and Addictive Feelings

Sufferer. Notice the term I’ve used to describe those of us unfortunate enough to develop the vicious mental illness known as Anorexia Nervosa. The Oxford Dictionary mildly describes it as a verb where you ‘experience something bad’, but no definition can truly convey how powerful the meaning of the word really is. The word can pretty much describe every emotional aspect that comes with anorexia and has never rung truer in my opinion after the week I have just experienced. After receiving such positive feedback from my blog, I had lulled myself into a false sense of security and to me, revealing my notions on feeling weak upon showing vulnerability from emotion seemed a logical enough step. I felt stronger from the support everyone was showing. There is an incredible irony therefore, in the events of the past week where I was attacked verbally by a woman whilst at work and was directly called an ‘anorexic’ as if I was a vile creature instead of a human being. No matter how tough I like to appear on the exterior and nonchalant about my condition, I was unprepared for such a horrible attack and it hurt. It has made me come to believe that I am weak, I should have been stronger and not let the woman make me cry; but most of all I should not have been weak enough to let anorexia take over my mind.

There are many physical and psychological symptoms that allow anorexia to have the verb ‘to suffer’ describe its victims. This illness traps you in your mind and leads your logical self to view survival in a different light. Eating is a basic human instinct and essential in order to live, however despite having studied Biology A-level and therefore having an advanced knowledge of the body’s requirements and uses for energy, as a sufferer my illness has imprisoned this, leading me to see food as an enemy rather than a ‘medicine’ for my recovery. Obviously, no matter how well written a first-hand account of anorexia may be, the whole experience is just so hard to describe in words to a healthy person. I have been asked many times why I can’t just focus my energy and determination into recovery as opposed to using it in the negative, controlling and restrictive way I have. I can answer this honestly: when you find something you are good at (for me restriction) it is ever so hard to give it up, a feeling I’m sure is shared by many. To me, my relapse this summer after my first attempt at recovering, became another factor on my mental list of failures. Making a trade from an aspect I KNOW I am good at and am sure will work to recovery, which has let me down before, is near impossible. I am very hard on myself and due to the many failures in my eyes, I tend to search for a quick burst of satisfaction, very much like the ones I achieve by controlling my food intake. I have however used my determination to begin the steps to recovery, unfortunately I’m aware that my heart and soul aren’t completely ready to accommodate the food intake for weight restoration, no matter how much I would like to appear normal again.

I have been focusing mainly on the nutrition aspect of my suffering and I am fully aware as to why. I have completely stopped any form of exercise and again giving up something I was good at due to having previously been a keen dancer, it is extremely hard for me to accept this lack of a healthy aspect in my life. I have come to understand however, that my body simply cannot sustain any physical activity at the moment. Tragically for me, due to my intense personal need to achieve in my A-levels and therefore increased hours of after-school subject tuition, I decided to completely stop dancing in January 2011. This decision was one of the toughest I made, as dance was the single most useful release from the stress of school work. This meant that everything I did was orientated and focused on school and exams, heightening my stress levels to the extreme, especially as I felt I was doing little physical activity. Prior to quitting, I had been using my step-machine in conjunction with the dancing and had made a conscious effort to walk from school as a means to exercise more regularly. This I believe must have been near the start of the anorexic tendencies when I personally was still in control of my food intake and completely oblivious to the fact that it would soon spiral- rather ironically- out of my control. At the peak of my disorder, right before my exams when I was still very much in denial, I would obsessively use my step machine in order to burn the extra calories I felt I was consuming. My mum would get extremely angry with me upon hearing me exercising hidden upstairs on the top floor every day. I would lie as to how many minutes I had been exercising; secretly spending at least hour on the highest resistance. When I could no longer be deceptive about the amount of exercise I was doing, due to my parents monitoring and limiting the time I spent on the step-machine, I started jogging with my dad as an alternate form of stress release and calorie burner. If I couldn’t exercise I would become extremely angry at anyone or anything denying me the opportunity to burn calories and felt I didn’t deserve to eat. When I was officially diagnosed, I continued with the jogging despite the rapid weight loss and my parents allowed it, as despite knowing full well that it wasn’t healthy for me, exercising was the only time I was relaxed enough to openly talk about my condition. Even though I now tell myself I have no need to exercise, physical activity to burn calories is still occasionally present in my mind. I enjoy the many flights of stairs I have to climb every day at work, unwillingly feeling particularly happy whenever I am required to take them several times throughout the day. It is however, a symptom of my illness I have learnt to cope with and I definitely do not feel any need to punish myself anymore if I don’t exercise in the day.

Whilst researching for similar blogs to gain inspiration and help from others in a similar situation as me, I stumbled upon pro-anorexia (pro-ana) blogs. Pro-ana is a term coined by sufferers of anorexia where the illness is encouraged and tips are often shared between its members to help them lose weight. To satisfy my curiosity I decided to read one of the pro-ana witness accounts. I will not repeat anything that was written but the very nature of the account was extremely distressing and I felt uncomfortable reading it. Without wanting to come across as judgemental myself and therefore hypocritical, in a way I found the whole thing very distasteful and I can in no way whatsoever glorify this disorder to the extent these people can. I do however understand why they have deceived themselves into believing that anorexia is helping them, due to the extreme comfort and soothing feeling achieved from restriction. Consciously, I never let myself settle into or embrace the illness. As soon as I admitted to myself I had anorexia, I sought help from my GP and I can safely say I never allowed myself to enjoy the illness nor let it become a friend. Anyone can recite the many disadvantages and perils of anorexia; I can however admit that in my mind there are some positive aspects to it (if there weren’t recovery would be far easier!). I have mentioned it before but the satisfaction gained when I manage to resist cravings and to cut back food is quite euphoric. In a way you could see it as an addiction and the deeper you go with the restriction, the more you need to cut back in order to achieve the same ‘high’. The hungrier I got, the better I felt.

They say good can come from the most dire of situations. This is one thing that I have come to realise as true. In the true cliché style ‘of every cloud has a silver lining’ relationships with my family have never been better. Before, I was never close to my dad, through no fault of his. My parents never acted as friends to my siblings and me, yet I do not see this as a bad thing, as to us they were always parents and therefore we would never entrust them with the very personal aspects of our lives. However, upon the development of the illness my dad immediately became my rock and supported me through some very dark times. He stepped into the role as a carer with an ease that I would have never thought possible, enabling me to continue my recovery within the community. A lot of the time he was the one I turned to when I felt angry, upset and depressed or simply when I just felt I couldn’t cope. He never judged me especially since he himself sought to learn a lot more about the disorder and tried to offer advice (he still tries no matter how hard I resist it!). Though it took her a lot more time, my mum has become a person I can trust in very much the same way as my dad. My mum resented my illness and fought hard to come to terms with it, however she has finally arrived in a position where she too can be equally as supportive as my dad and that is something I’ll thank her eternally for. The relationship between me and my parents has changed for the better, I feel a lot more comfortable sharing my life with them and I honestly believe they appreciate this new bond too. I would have never thought they could be proud of me at the moment but they have- word for word- told me they are and they now genuinely BELIEVE me when I say I want to recover. Even though I will always look back at this time in my life as very dark and one I would rather forget, this relationship will move forward with me in my recovery and might very well be one of the biggest factors in that journey.

Alongside the minimal positives come the huge negatives with anorexia and relationships. I will delve into this further in future blogs but I particularly want to mention that I miss my sister extraordinarily. The past couple of years before I fell ill, my sister and I became undeniably close despite the 3 year age difference. We would rely on each other a lot and trust one another with secrets and things we could never share with others. Upon developing anorexia I pushed her away due to sheer resentment and I would compare myself to her feeling a huge jealousy towards her ability to be free and sociable.  Something I cannot forgive myself for is the way I took it out on her, as I never gave her a reason for pushing her away. We lost the connection we once had and I had taken for granted. However, letting her go was for the best for her as I truly made her life miserable. I miss the bond we had with each other and I not only want to but need to work it out with her. I appreciate the time she’ll need to heal the wounds I may have caused her but hopefully in time I wish with all my might that we can become the two Michaud sisters we once were. In no way do I want to make her uncomfortable, upset or pressurised by writing this but a big fear is I can never become the person I used to be, as it feels like a different person… a different lifetime.