I’ve spent just a little over the last four years of my life with an eating disorder (ED). For the most part I would say I’ve had what is termed eating disorder not otherwise described (EDNOS) as I’ve restricted like crazy, purged to the point of having full on bulimia for a time and binged. Oh have I binged. It’s still an odd thing for me to say probably due to the cycles I go through and having accepted these eating habits as part of who I am but it’s a part of me I hate. It can consume me. I feel disgusting, ashamed, guilty and worthless when I think about what I’ve put my body through. As it is I can hardly stand being in my own skin, I detest myself, and am all too aware that I have such a long way to go.
I struggled on by myself for over three years and no one had any idea there was something amiss. Doing loads of sports at both my undergraduate and postgraduate universities meant my weight loss during term time was easily shrugged off; the result of studying hard and doing a ridiculous amount of sports. My obsession with not eating certain things and exercising everyday was all part and parcel of making sure I kept match fit. Eventually I’d had enough. I wanted a normal, happy life. I want a normal happy life. I wanted to be rid of my diet pills (they were herbal but diet pills all the same), the scales, the restriction, purging and binging. I also wanted to overcome the depression that came with it all. My first port of call was the university councillor. I’d never been to one before and he was quite honestly useless. Talking got me nowhere, he said he found it difficult trying to council someone so self aware and perfectly able to analyse what was going on clearly and precisely (why thank you ^_^). By the third session I’d told him I didn’t think we could go further and he agreed. The doctor at the university practice was my next stop. They confirmed depression and an ED but said there was no help unless I wanted to travel half an hour for group sessions. I was open to anything but the sessions clashed with lectures. I felt helpless and alone though at this time my family and boyfriend were aware of the situation and being wonderful as always. I continued struggling with my ED and depression to the point that I could barely function. I had two options 1) intercalate from my MSc to get some recovery time or 2) accept a postgraduate diploma. I opted for option 1. I’d put too much into my degree, I’m positively desperate to do a PhD and I was sick to the back teeth of my ED getting in the way.
After accepting the intercalation and moving home my own doctor referred me to a specialist to be assessed for cognitive behavioural therapy (CBT). I was really hopeful. I shouldn’t have been. They accepted that I had a “concerning” ED but as I was not having the same severity of behaviour whilst living with my parents compared to when I was at university they felt I should work through a self help book on my own. I can understand why they chose to do this as there are so many girls that need help, I did my undergraduate degree who had struggled with ana for years, but I felt somewhat betrayed by the whole system. I’d suffered in silence been to darker places than I ever thought possible then when I finally gained the strength and courage to ask for help I get a book... Which didn’t help no matter how hard I wanted it to. Maybe if I’d have let loose the emotional lunatic dwelling below my calm collected exterior I’d have received some tangible help and now be able to better manage my inner torment. As things stand I still suffer. Some of my behaviour has calmed down as I live with my partner but I’m recovering from hitting rock bottom. I didn’t care about myself at all; what weight I was or whether I woke up in the morning didn’t matter.
This blog is intended to give me some focus and act as a support as I endeavour to lose weight and uncover the person I once was. This is the start of the beginning and if I help someone by inviting strangers to share this journey with me, all the better. I want to have confidence, self worth and happiness. I’m miserable and don’t recognise myself.
Here’s to the start of a happy, skinny me, someone I’ve lost but am determined to get back... Here’s to becoming butterfly beautiful.
