My advice in Anorexia Recovery - Youtube Video
The kindness in the mental hospital
I never thought it would be my best friend who places me into a mental hospital detained under the mental health act - Anorexia Recovery
What it is like suffering from anorexia and bulimia nervosa
My brain is sick, its poorly, its hurting and its weeping. My brain makes my body stop and unable to pick up a fork, my body will tremble when it hears the words “sandwich, spaghetti, pizza or burger.” My brain is being bullied. But I cant tell a teacher that so and so is bullying me in the playground, as it is not a person who controls me and sends me the hate messages. Its a disease. “your too big, your not going to succeed, lose the weight.” My brain is sick, my brain sends out messages for me to run 15 kilometres, then swim for hours then cycle 10 miles, all these activities my brain tells me to do consecutively. My brain is sick. It tells me that if I was thinner, I would be prettier, happier, popular, successful. My brain is sick. It makes me not trust people, it makes me not hug people incase they can feel the fat around my stomach that I am so insecure about. It makes me paralysed when I see there is one extra Rice Krispie on my plate. My sickness has two sides. My brain tells me to eat cake, ice cream, pizza, bread, spaghetti, custard creams all in one sitting. My brain tells me it’s ok to eat. Its more then ok to eat, food is fantastic, its my frenzy, my drug. My brain turns me into a polar bear attacking its prey, or a lion hunting it’s kill, however for me the prey is the chocolates on the top shelf of the cupboard and the predator is me. But then I freeze, the only thing that I can hear is the ticking of the clock, no voices, complete silence. The silence lasts about 15 secs until the tsunami of voices begin. “What did you just do, you’ve made a big mistake, your thighs are growing right now, stop them, stop them, look how big your stomach is getting.” My hands begin to shake, my stomach bloats, the feeling of fullness gets larger and larger. Until I end up stopping and staring at the water at the bottom of the toilet bowl with my fingers down my throat. The water is no longer clear, its filled with blood which drips from my throat and vomit that is dripping down fingers. My brain is sick. My brain tells my feet to step on the scale and the bullies start sending me hate messages again. The cycle repeats. My brain is sick. My organs are sick. My bones are told they are at high risk of osteoporosis. My doctors say its time to start fighting for your life and hand me an orange. I have not eaten or drank water in 5 days. I am informed my chances are slim and that this illness could kill me. My body sits in a wheelchair whilst people tell me “mental illness’s are for attention.” I get taken in ambulances almost fortnightly now, but its ok because my illness tells me “I deserve it”“I am the best eating disorder patient because I am the sickest.” My brain is sick. It makes me get my rights taken away from me and moves me to a hospital 2 and a half hours from everyone I know.
I gain 10 kilos. My body is healed. My brain is sick. It tells me I have an obesity problem, it tells me I will suffer from diabetes, high cholesterol. It tells me I am weak I am sick, I will be healthy if I lose 20 kilos, because then I won’t have the obesity problem anymore and I won’t be in a 1:3 range of the obesity epidemic England has. My doctors tell me I’ve worked so hard and I am finally at a healthy weight, they congratulate me. I don’t understand. My weight has gone up I am not healthy anymore. Tears drip down my face. I am sick. The voices are louder. “YOU ARE NOT GAINING ANYMORE, LOSE NOW YOU FAT COW, STOP GAINING. YOUR DISGUSTING, NOBODY LIKES YOU.” My nurses tell me, “its ok to cry.” that it is ok to relapse however it is never ok to give up, that the fact I’ve hit a healthy weight “is an achievement.” However my head tells me the extreme opposite. My brain is sick. I do not know what is rational. I am strapped in and on a roller-coaster that has the record number of loop de loops. My eating disorder is not a physical illness its a mental illness. My brain is sick. I’m on home leave and I see my family and friends. They see I’ve gained weight and they ask when will I be out of hospital and that I have done so well now that I have recovered from anorexia and bulimia. Why is it assumed that because my body has recovered my brain has? My brain is sicker then ever. I have not managed solid food in 2 weeks, relying on liquid calories because my brain will not send communication signals for my hands to pick up a fork, however I am a healthy weight so I am recovered right? This is not the case. MY BRAIN IS SICK. I do like food, I love pizza, french fries, burgers. I don’t eat lettuce leaves at every meal. I may have anorexia and bulimia but I do like food, in fact I love food. I wish I could eat food. My brain is sick.
Around once a month, I wake up. I see the real girl who stares back at me in the mirror. I do not see the fatness i’ve seen the previous night. I see the girl who loves sport, who’s passionate about her education, who is intelligent and cares about others. I see the girl who is fighting against anorexia and bulimia. I see the girl who’s trying so hard to overcome the disease. My brain is sick, however I am not giving up the fight for health and happiness.
Recovery is a choice you have to keep making
I like to compare an Eating Disorder to a drug, addictive in a way. You become obsessed and feel like you can’t focus without the thoughts of food racing around your mind. I remember the first time I said the words “I do not want an Eating Disorder, I do not know what to do” I feel like when I first said those words it was my first footstep into the journey of recovery. Recovery is a journey of “one step forward, 3 steps back” there will always be bad days in recovery, it is inevitable, however on the other hand good days are inevitable too.
I am a firm believer that recovery is a choice, developing an Eating Disorder is not a choice however recovery is. However, the choice to recover only lasts temporarily and you have to keep choosing recovery over and over again. I have worked out that on average I have the option to choose recovery 18 times a day if not more, thats 6 times for every meal, 6 times for choosing not to binge and 6 times not to purge up my food. However other times I would have to choose recovery is when I choose to get to bed at a reasonable hour, I choose to stand strong and fight the urges to not over exercise and more to get out of bed every morning. However there are many other times recovery needs to be chosen which you may even be oblivious too. Choosing recovery is sometimes an active choice which you have to keep thinking about every time, however overtimes these choices become subconscious and you recover “naturally” without thinking that you have to make the choice to practice self care by bathing or brushing your teeth.
Recovery is not an easy decision, it can bring waves of emotion. It can bring on bad emotions or bad situations such as panic attacks but it can also bring amazing emotions such as being discharged from inpatient services and getting periods back. There are many reasons on both sides whether or not to choose recovery, a few weeks ago I had to construct a list of pros and cons to recovering. I started to write the pros and I could not think of any other reasons why recovery would not be worth it. I have already done so many more things in recovery then I would in relapse such as eating birthday cake on my friends birthday cake and making my body stable enough to go on holiday.
For me, recovery is the best decision I have ever made. Yes, I do argue sometimes with the concept of recovery but I know that that is my Eating Disorder voicing that opinion and not my real voice. My real voice wants to shout back and recover. So lets go.