My Experience of AN

 My Experience of AN

Anorexia affects everyone differently – while there are some common traits or symptoms how people manage/experience them and the struggles associated with the illness is unique

For me anorexia developed gradually after innocent weight loss following comments about my appearance and bullying at school. These experiences have made me very wary of people around me so trusting others and building relationships is hard. Not only that but it made me highly self-conscious – a trait many ED patients share (this can be heightened in EDUs as groups form, discussions take place and paranoia becomes intense).

While it was gradual in the beginning feelings of worthlessness, being unlovable and a failure triggered its development (this can again be heightened on the ward when people promise things that don’t happen, or patients compare themselves to others and believe they are getting less help or support).

As with many who share this disorder, I became competitive in many aspects of my life, from academic achievement to body image and appearance amongst friends, family and peers (in hospital this manifests in constant comparison as a result of being surrounded by others with the illness and can be extremely triggering for some patients). While my main rival was myself, I became obsessed with food and exercise – the two would occupy my mind constantly, leaving no room to concentrate on the simplest of tasks or things I enjoyed. I’d often spend hours stood still thinking – not knowing what to wear or do – conversations became hard to follow and my interest in others or things outside of my own mind reduced massively – I found it hard when I arrived in hospital to engage with staff and other patients – to remember who was who or what discussions I’d had with each one – all in all I was not able to think due the malnourishment of brain and the lack of space for other thoughts. At the height of my disorder I’d have to pre-plan and schedule when and how much of each (food and exercise) I’d allow myself to do, with strict rules and a huge sense of guilt if they were not met – to my brain at the time, they had to be balanced or more exercise than food, even better! I felt guilty or not worthy of the foods that I enjoyed – sweet treats were extremely rare, with most things I loved (as well as food groups I considered bad ie carbs) cut almost completely out of my diet – and the very very occasional exception could only be justified if excessive exercise or tighter restrictions followed the next day.

When in the darkest depths of the disorder, I found myself becoming detached from the reasons I initially began reducing my diet – to lose weight (as I was clinically obese) and get to a healthy weight. Body checking and weighing were immensely important to me (I know not everyone has the same opinions about these behaviours) and yet the target to lose weight/get a flatter stomach got lost in ensuring my rule book was adhered to the letter. My perfectionist brain wouldn’t let me rest until targets were met, but each day the bar for steps count or calories burned was set higher and higher as I reached and exceeded goals. Exercise became a secret get away or escape – a way of not only controlling anxiety and emotions but preventing guilt and shame, however, this too became shameful, taking myself away to secretly jog on the spot in the bathroom or squat while waiting for the kettle to boil in the kitchen. Anyone or anything that got in the way of me completing any one of my rules was subject to a wrath of anger – whether it be from telling me to eat, offering me a chocolate or refusing to go on a dog walk – I had become controlling, manipulative of others and liked my own way, my personality lost to the ‘anorexia voice’ in my head that was controlling and manipulating me. 

For me personally, I reached a point my body was unable to do the things I wanted – simple things like climbing the stairs, dressing myself or standing up from a chair were a huge challenge – and despite having been told by friends, and identifying it within myself, until this point I believed that I was okay and could help myself to get to a better place. It’s when the penny dropped and I started to see things in a very different light – I looked in the mirror and didn’t recognise myself (my face had aged significantly) and bones were so visible I looked like skeleton – that I acknowledged just how serious matters were. Not everyone gets to this stage but acceptance is huge in recognising the need for help and support - the first stage of any road to recovery - without this the battle gets tougher as the manipulative voice fights against the advice of those around you.  

Again, until I was sectioned under the mental health act and taken swiftly to hospital – I was not aware of the psychiatric side of the condition, I naively, like many others, saw anorexia merely as a physical condition – as the weight loss and side effects are so visible - and thought that it would be simple to overcome if I could just gradually increase my diet, little by little and regain the weight I had lost.

It’s only through education, reading and support that I am able to reflect on and write about my experience with anorexia. If it weren’t for hearing the harsh realities of the physical health consequences (ie that the lowest BMI I reached is classed medically as incompatible with life); the common dysfunctional thinking behaviours associated with the condition (that I could relate to within my everyday life including dichotomous thinking and mind-reading) and learning of techniques (such as CBT and mindfulness practices) to retune the brain into different thinking patterns, I would almost certainly be stuck in the anorexic cycle, bullied by my own inner critic and unable to see the beauty in everything around me. By opening up, not bottling up, and exploring more positive pathways, not blaming myself and recognising things I can and can’t control – I am able to see a clear pathway ahead towards a happier, healthier mindset and way of life with ‘food freedom’ and my old personality that got lost in the fog of the disease.