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I used to think that writing about my own story and struggles with an eating disorder was a bit self-absorbed or maybe even pretentious.
I believed no one understood my battle and dug myself a deep hole I did not anticipate I could re-emerge from. By definition, I was a person who was anxious and anorexic. I believed this was who I was, so it could not be changed.
In today’s society, so many people are loud-and-proud gym bunnies, constantly posting on social media about PBs, juice cleanses and gruelling, military style workouts.
Let's rewind five years. A young girl, just 17, her bags packed, sat in the car trembling with fear. Where was I going? What is this place going to be like? Did I really need to go?
Recovery. It evokes so many different emotions for different people. It may frighten you, it may frustrate you, it may encourage you. For me, recovery is all that and more.
At the age of eighteen I had my place to study Music in September…however, I was also in the depths of anorexia.
I was still in the healthy weight range (most of the time), my blood tests were coming back and everything was in the green and where it should be, so I was healthy, right?
As there has been a lot of talk about anorexia, particularly in recent times, almost everyone now knows what it is. Or at least they think they know.
When we are bombarded with “New Year, New You” messaging and diet talk, January can be a difficult month for people with eating disorders.
Overcoming adversity is one the biggest things that I struggled with three years ago when I first developed bulimia nervosa. For so long I refused to accept it to myself and lived in denial.
Opening up was never easy for me but before the words left my mouth the assessor slammed me down. “Your BMI is high and the ED services won’t see you because of your weight.”