Anorexia and me.....

Okay, here goes...

It was difficult to pinpoint an exact cause and correlation as to why I developed anorexia nervosa. Looking back to when I was 14, though, I can think of numerous contributory factors. The most common thought to anorexia's cause by psychologists is a feeling of zero control in the sufferer, leading to said sufferer turning to food, body and exercise, so that they can feel in control of at least one aspect of their life.

I'm not entirely convinced. Sure, this would ring true in some respects for me, my life at 14 was entangled in chaos; my mum had just come out of a life threatening coma from a car crash that had happened 2 days before Christmas. There was damage to her liver, kidneys, spinal cord, neck, heart... you name it. It was a surprise she came out alive. Other shocks to the system included my boyfriend dumping me when I announced it was love, puberty progressing and, my mu's return to alcoholism. Alcohol, from time to time, is what I blamed as the cause of my anorexia. My mum would often come home out of her face, scream abuse, act like a fool and pass out before she reached her bed.

My dad and I had always had a strong relationship, and when trauma from his childhood was bought back coinciding with a dark period for my mum, he was put on anti depressants and was often bed ridden. He stopped eating, which fitted in perfectly well with my mum's lack of eating. She forgets to eat breakfast, lunch and dinner most of the time even now. These erratic schedules showed me up to my skinny dad as a binge eating. My meals were often so small though, that to fuel puberty I probably required more food, and it just happened to come as ice cream, sweets, and cake. I was still slim, but my dad warned "you're getting away with it now but one day you won't."

My dad complained often about my eating, and then the button dropped... My gran announced I had a double chin. Utterly offended me, as I am very sensitive and perfectionist and I went on a run. I remember that run, it was desperate. I came back and didn't allow myself to eat. My mum assisted my shift toward a 'healthy' diet by buying in lots of vegetables, eggs, and showing me methods to cook healthily. I will emphasize my perfectionism... my knowledge soon succeeded hers. I spent months of my life collecting tips and tricks, and became seduced by pro anorexia sites tips and tricks. I soon wouldn't allow anyone to cook for me. I cooked for everyone else. Besides that, I did sit ups, a run, and other secret exercise in my room daily. I set strict rules, no eating after 6, only green tea or black coffee to drink, no sugar, no dairy, only egg whites and low fat yogurt, and plenty of vegetables. Even fruit became forbidden.

I realized what a problem food was when every day I kept a calorie journal, I spent hours in shops checking nutritional information on just about every vegetarian product, besides online calorie counts. I would miss social events if it meant eating. I discovered oats as a sneaky way of eating but eating very little, and gave the illusion of eating loads when having a low calorie huge bowl of soup, or water porridge.

My friends worried about me but few said anything. My parents panicked, and what was worse to me was revising for GCCEs whilst my hair was coming out in thick chunks, and I had trouble breathing. Oh, and my periods stopped completely to. People always used to tell my mum how nice, pretty, and bubbly I was. These types of compliments turned to anxious suggestions for concern, notifications of my ill health and dangerous appearance. I became like a ghost, not caring for anyone or anything around me. My aspirations to be a photojournalist, a writer, a zoologist and to travel the world had all gone. All that was left was this nightmare-ish lifestyle, the scale, and the figures it read. A good day was a decreasing number, a bad day when it stayed the same or increased. Meanwhile, I cooked food and fed other people.

My dad and the doctors finally were what bought to me a little rationality. My mum has never handled this well, and still fails in this. I began to progress to saying I would maintain. I had an array of personalities in those times, the main good healthy one would force me to add olive oil to limp lettuce, to drink a glass of soya milk, and the main bad one would insist it was measured precisely and low calorie. Moving from 200-400 calories a day, gradually to as much as 1200 calories I felt an absolute failure, a binger, and a food addict. I cringed as others watched me eating something I'd regard as unhealthy such as a cake, I as much as possible in secret, apart from dinner which was a quarter portioned slow affair with my dad.

My weight never increased, though I often put on a show of trying to make it, buying protein shakes to 'bulk up' whilst I'd use them as meal re-placers.

Gradually, for years I began re-adding foods to my list of food I could eat. It was a breakthrough for me before Christmas to eat pasta again!

It's difficult to really convey to anyone without an eating disorder the fear and loathing that comes with it. It's not an obsession you quickly move on from, either; it seems to stay with you forever. A constant battle as to whether food should be thrown, eaten, cut in half, hidden, stored, cooked for someone else, frozen, whatever... For example, what's on my mind right now? Should I, when I get back from babysitting tonight allow myself a soy yogurt or should i go to bed on an empty stomach. If I eat it will it cause me instant weight gain? No, obviously not. I'd have to eat a lot of soy yogurt to do THAT.

Why then, such fear, order, precision, and perfectionism about something I know to be irrational? If I knew I'd probably be dealing with it. But for now, let’s hope I keep moving forward, and not backward. In recent times I've gone vegan, which in many respects has made me feel healthier as I'm eating more and it still allows me to be fussy and check for something. I also have an amazing boyfriend who lives in Italy, who I've been with since October. In August I told him about my condition, and he said he had suspicions, but was completely loving and caring about it. That was a huge breakthrough for me, to talk about it with someone other than my best friend.

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