There are so many reasons why it is important to speak out about an eating disorder as soon as possible, that I could go on forever. The longer that an eating disorder, such as anorexia, goes untreated, the more severe it becomes.
Anorexia was never intended, never wanted and never fully understood. Yet in the September of my second year at university, I somehow found myself being taken on by an intensive outpatient treatment team.
Eating disorders grow in the dark. Sharing my story might help or maybe inspire someone else to keep fighting. It may even help me to get closer to that finish line where I am fully in control.
My anorexia started when I was just 11 years old. However, I wasn’t officially diagnosed until 10 years later. That is a decade of illness before I started treatment, by which time my ED was well and truly ingrained.
I know how daunting it is to think of the recovery journey ahead. I know how easy it is to be deceived into thinking that it’s simpler to let your eating disorder control you and destroy you.
I used to believe that there was nothing wrong with me, that I was meant to be like this. That I was my eating disorder.
Finally, for the first time in a long time, my day was not completely structured around when/what I would eat, and my mind was not completely consumed by thoughts of food and my eating disorder.
I never felt beautiful; I was always a little chubby. I have a tricky family life and a physical disadvantage, so I believed I couldn’t do anything. I was sure I was a disappointment and a load on the people around me.
I have talked a lot about my struggle with anorexia in the past; however, what I have failed to comment on is what happens after recovery.
I started suffering from eating disorders when I was just 11 years old. It was a way to deal with the stress that I was facing concerning my parents’ abusive behaviours and divorce, as well as the bullying I was experiencing at school.
It’s been a rocky road but it’s been worth it, and I’ve met some amazing people along the way, including my best friend, whom my life would be so incomplete without.
As I approached 47 years of age I had expected my life to be entering the ‘relaxed’ phase. Not quite pipe and slippers, but I had in my sights sipping tea and eating cucumber sandwiches lying amongst the freshly cut grass of a farmer’s field.