Recovering but not recovered.

So how does it feel to be in that limbo of ‘okay’, but not good? In recovery but not ‘recovered’ from Anorexia Nervosa? When nobody can see the struggle because you look well, yet even when you try to explain it or reach out, people turn away. When a world of restriction turns upside down, it becomes a realization that food tastes good, that recovery is worth it, but one does not know how to accept this. Food has been the perceived enemy for so long, the thing that causes the dreaded weight gain. This limbo of recovery provides sudden clarity, that an eating disorder is not about food, weight and shape, but at the same time it is all about food, weight and shape.

Recovery can occur in a variety of ways, it can include one minute of being adamant that one will lose 5kg, but the next decide to eat well, be ‘strong not skinny’. It can include a sudden gorge on all the foods that one has deprived oneself of for so long. It can include this gorge to bring up so much guilt, that one transitions to a diagnosis of bulimia.

I apologize for a more personally written post, but if one person reads it – I hope to feel some relief to finally share my constant whir of thoughts… I am recovering, not recovered.

Every day, I remember lying in that hospital bed, completely confused as to how I got there, but totally aware of my body sinking into the bed. The smell of paper towels, the smell of fortisip supplements staining my mattress and skin as I tried to hide it, the humiliation of shitting myself because I took too many laxatives. An NG thrust through my nose as I screamed and cried. Friends and family visited and left crying, but all I felt was numb. I could not cry, because I didn’t understand. I hadn’t reached my goal weight, so how could I be ill or underweight? The only comfort I felt, was that my heart rate was at 29bpm, I felt like I’d achieved something, in some sick way that I still don’t understand.

The worst memory is seeing my mums face, when she told me I had a month to live if I didn’t accept treatment. That image will never leave my memory, how much I’d hurt her, knowing now the turmoil I put her through. So I was flown to London to an ED inpatient unit. I now cannot stop thinking, how every other weekend she lost her free time off work, to fly to London and take a train to see me just for a few hours. How she lost weight herself because of stress, and how she had no time for herself, yet all I felt at the time was jealously, that I was in a unit to gain weight and she was free to lose weight. How I still returned home and put her through hell, hid food, deceived her, shouted at her, made myself sick in front of her, sat staring blankly as family members cried when I wouldn’t eat, avoided good hygiene, touching toilets in the hope of catching a vomiting bug, all for what? To lose weight. To somehow achieve the unachievable.

The guilt never fades.

Every day I’m so conscious of my body, noticing every jiggle, all the loss of muscle because my weight goes up and down like a yoyo, muscle is the first to go so I never sustain it… constantly comparing myself, never being thin, but not even looking slim because I’ve lost the muscle. Depression sinks in. I just sit or lie in my bed for hours. Even though my bmi remains on the cusp of healthy – I only see the fat I’ve obtained from lack of activity, so I just look a normal size, leaving everyone oblivious and confused by my distress.

Nearly very night for the past 3 months, I have binged and purged. Purged so violently that my throat has not stopped burning, I have grazes on my knuckles from my desperation, burst blood vessels around my eyes, under my tongue and down my cheeks and neck from the straining to get out every last morsel… my teeth are starting to recede as the acidic vomit has worn down my gums. My fingers are stained with smell as I’ve pawed through my vomit just to make sure I’ve purged everything. Further memories are triggered of going into every food shop in a train station, spending over £50 on food because my friend hadn’t turned up, knowing full well I was going to purge it all in the station toilets.

I hate myself every day. Not just for looking the way I do, but for not being strong enough to recover, for having 5 years of my life taken from me and ruled by thoughts and calculations of calories, weight, shape and body.

For what I’ve put my mum through.

I have remained a healthy weight for a large percentage of this time, yet these times have been the worst – because everyone thinks you’re over it, that you’ve come out the other side, but it’s just a hidden demon. A dirty secret that nobody wants to hear, because loving food is normal, but having a life ruled by it’s dictatorship is not. A life where the number on the scale or the reflection in the mirror each morning, is what defines whether a day is good or bad.

Each day, my thoughts are about food, weight, calories and how I look. I wander around food shops the majority of the days, just to look at food I wish I could eat, trying to tell myself I can do it but if I do, I know full well I will throw it up. In the eyes of the unknowing, I am healthy, I look like a normal 20 year old. Yet I cannot concentrate, unless it’s about what I have eaten or what I will eat that day. I cannot shift the memories, I cannot let go. Oh I so want to let go, if only my eating disorder would let me go.

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Alone or Lonely?

In depression, there is a limit when it comes to convincing yourself that you’re isolated because you like being alone, being left alone is all you want. All you need to carry on is your own company and being alone is always preferable. The need to be alone leads to a constant insistence to push away those around you, push away the very people who are openly offering to help you and to lend a listening ear. Yet, all the while there is a persisting fear of loneliness. So why do we insist on pushing others away? When it’s inevitable that we’ll return home to an overwhelming sense of loneliness, further sinking us into depression, believing we have nobody to support us, forgetting that it was in fact us that rejected and ignored those whom tried to reach out to us in the first place.

Depression is a selfish illness, a self-centred world of dark and negative thoughts, emotions and behaviours, all leading to perpetual sense of being lost, lonely and hopeless. There is no room for anyone else because the mind is clouded by this self-focused cycle. It’s not to say that being alone is always a bad thing, we all need to time to ourselves, it can be refreshing and it’s healthy. But just like it does with everything, depression exaggerates this need to be alone. A swarm of fear is created, that one will be made to face the real world, a belief that one simply doesn’t have the energy to engage with others or leave the safety of being under a duvet. All of which are methods of faulty thinking, but very real and unavoidable concepts for the sufferer. This response is reflected in many from a young age- in the face of difficulty the response is to hide away, to suppress emotions in fear of making things worse, or to act out through aggression or other behaviours to separate oneself. This mechanism to shut others out should be challenged across all of society, both in the well and unwell.

The evidence shows that by having more social connections and networks, a happy life is much more likely, whilst being alone and without social contact can lead to lonely, unhappy lives with a much shorter life expectancy. If you have a friend with depression or whom appear withdrawn, don’t be disheartened if they are not in contact. Reach out to them, persist with it and offer kindness not rejection, visit them if you can – we visit and encourage the physically ill, it should be no different for the mentally ill. They are the ones who need contact but are too afraid or unknowing of how to reach out.

And if you’re the one in the thick of depression; don’t give up, make a change and try to face the world, face your demons, face everyday life and allow yourself to express your opinions and feelings, both to yourself and to others. Avoid shutting others out, being honest about your true feelings can go a long way to helping you and others understand. The need for some time alone is not something to be ashamed of, and those who are true friends will understand if you say that’s what you need. Set yourself goals to get in touch with others little by little, you can still have time alone without being lonely.