My Past Experience of Anorexia


TRIGGER WARNING – THIS IS ABOUT EATING DISORDERS (ANOREXIA)

This account is purely about my own experience of anorexia. This disease affects all sexes, not just women. It can also affect people of any age group. In my case, I was in my forties when it began. Treatment these days may well be different; I don’t know. If you are struggling with an eating disorder or suspect you may be, please seek help from your doctor or any of the helpline numbers given at the end of this post.

Anorexia isn’t about the food; it’s about control. I wanted to control my life but thought if I could control my body and weight, I’d start to feel better. How wrong I was.

It started with me cutting out fats and carbs like many people on diets. I began to lose weight and felt like I was achieving something. As I lost weight, I still wasn’t satisfied, though, convincing myself I was overweight and needed to lose just a few more pounds. I lost more weight, but I still wasn’t content. I began to develop rituals around food, such as cutting food up into tiny pieces to make them last longer or seem more and, weighing everything I ate, then totting up the calories. I stopped drinking coffee with milk and drank only black coffee and Diet Coke. Still not satisfied; eating salad wasn’t enough to control my habit. I began to weigh the lettuce, water well shaken out of it, and work out the calories in three thin slices of cucumber. The weight started to drop off me, but I couldn’t see how ill I was.

I need to make it clear that anorexia is not a choice, a fad, or a diet; it’s an extremely serious and dangerous illness, which is nearly always caused by significant trauma in childhood, as was the case with me.

More rituals developed, and the weight loss continued. I’m not going to go on to describe all those habits and routines because I DO NOT want this to read like an ‘instruction manual’ for anorexia. Suffice it to say; I ended up in the local psychiatric hospital on the eating disorders ward at a very dangerously thin weight of five and a half stone! I was confined to bed and only allowed to use the bathroom with a staff member present. It was so embarrassing.

My first meal there was presented to me two hours after I’d arrived. It was, to my horror, vegetable curry and rice followed by bread-and-butter pudding and two scoops of ice cream. It wasn’t a small portion, either. I don’t think I’d ever felt that sense of panic before. A nurse sat with me and insisted I ate every stone-cold mouthful. I cried, I sobbed, and I begged, all to no avail. I was made to eat all that food despite having terrible pain in my stomach. It seemed barbaric to me. It took me nearly three hours to force the food down. Other than that, they threatened to tube-feed me, and with my phobia of choking, I couldn’t bear the thought of that.

The eating disorders ward had strict rules. Everything was done on a reward and punishment basis. To begin with, I wasn’t allowed phone calls or visitors, not even my family, and I wasn’t allowed out of my room. Weeks passed, and as I gained weight, albeit reluctantly, I was ‘rewarded’ with a phone call to my daughter, then my son and my Mum. They were all worried sick about me and dreadfully upset that I was going through all of this at the same time, realising I was very ill and needed help. There was no way of ‘cheating,’ although some of the people there tried. We would have lost a reward if we lost weight, which was impossible with every mouthful being supervised. It was such a thoroughly miserable time. At the time, I thought it was tortuous; it certainly felt like it.

However, there are only three ways out of anorexia in my mind. One is to get better despite it being painfully hard work (but well worth it); the other is that you spend your life battling with your illness for, possibly, the rest of your years (and believe me, that’s pretty awful), or you die!! It’s as simple as that!

I began to make good progress and started to feel better physically. I was allowed to eat in the dining room with the other inpatients on our ward; I could go to activities and learn about the basic psychology of eating disorders. We were taught about CBT therapy and offered other forms of treatment once our minds had started to recover from the starvation. We were basically given another chance at life, and I was grateful for that.

Finally, after being in hospital for six whole months, I was allowed day leave, and then weekend leave etc. Eventually, I was allowed home but had to attend the day hospital every day.

I don’t think you are ever really ‘cured’ from an eating disorder, but for me, it’s like being in remission, and I never take my life or health for granted. Anorexia is an addiction as well as an illness. Like any addiction, you have to consider yourself in permanent recovery. Now, at the age of 65, I’m making the most of my time and intend to live the rest of my life without harming myself in this way. I’m happy in my life with two adult children and four gorgeous grandchildren. If anyone is reading this and recognises themselves in what I have written, please, please, seek help.


UK HELP: https://www.beateatingdisorders.org.uk/

US HELP: https://www.helpguide.org/home-pages/eating-disorders.htm

AU HELP: https://au.reachout.com/articles/support-services-for-eating-disorders

(Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash)

Make Believe


She got up early and painted her face
to cover the shame and her falling from grace
She dyed her hair ginger and put blue on her eyes
She thought she’d catch all her friends by surprise

She smacked on red lips and looked into the glass
Outside the window, she watched people pass
Nobody noticed this sad tired stranger
Nor that she was in imminent danger

She pulled on her face and forced out a smile
and held the expression for quite a while
She easily feigned joy; could have earned first prize
for kidding them all with her perfect disguise

Exhausted and weary, she started yawning
and time slipped by, ‘though it was still morning
She pulled down her hat to cover her frown
No one would know her, dressed up as a clown

She’d tried so hard but things were so tough
She decided that enough was enough
What a sham, what a game; she picked up the knife
Could she pluck up the courage to take her own life?

Perish

I hide between layers of darkness and grime
The soot-black air rasping through my lungs
among the smoke and ash
There I find my home

If there were a breeze
to cleanse away the pollution in my mind
oh, what relief would be had
and perhaps I would be saved

I lay my rags upon the ground
and sink my face, guilt and shame
into the grit and dirt below me
as the wind howls over my bones

There is no saving or comfort
for the likes such as I
who perish in the storm whipping up
My shadow is all that remains of me.

Whispers to the Soul

“This was me before I knew about anything hard, when my whole life was packed lunches and art projects and spelling quizzes.”

― Nina LaCour, Hold Still


Rage screams out in silenced moments

Beating in her shattered heart

Muted words tell of her truths

Ripped her childhood years apart

~~~

Pain seared through her fragile figure

Like a sword sliced through her gut

Agony cut trenches in

To stop the screams with lips sewn shut

~~~

Innocence is lost in moments

Sins shut from the outside world

There she sits with guilty bruises

In a corner, tightly curled

~~~

She trembled as the torment came

Spoke whispers to her sacred soul

Crying out in stolen voices

Filled the gaping, bleeding hole

~~~

Keeping secrets nearly killed her

Suffocates her choking voice

Trapped and twisted honest truths

Ignoring pain, she had no choice.

Dancing in the Shadows

Reality she feigns so well

Till the closet doors slam shut

A sureness of the truth becomes

A feeling from the gut

~~~

She’s dancing in the shadows

Tar running through her veins

Weaving webs of gossamer

Till nothing pure remains

~~~

Just then her hushed emotions

Tucked carefully away

Go screeching to the hills

As night follows on from day

~~~

The darkness wears disguises

Where her heart and soul had been

Closely guarded secrets

Always clever, never seen

~~~

And the devil burns so brightly

When the skeletons come out

The enigma slowly surfacing

Until there is no doubt

Searching For Tomorrow

You may think me rather sombre as I write my feelings out
I concur they’re somewhat dark, as well you’ll know
Do you understand my pain, and why I try to hide my face?
My shame lives on from very long ago

I started this year well, without a tale to tell the world
But then I started digging, as you will all have read
Was that the wisest move, or should I put it all behind me?
But then I’d have to keep it in my head

My heart and soul are burdened; can I bury thoughts again?
Should I bid them on their way to pastures new?
Friends are standing by me and for that, I bless my soul
Do I really want to lose that loving view?

Oh, I’ve had my share of joys and bliss; an awful lot of fun
Along my endless travels, and on the brightest roads
So, why the saddest face and the hesitance to smile?
When I’m longing now to lose these heavy loads

I attempt to write my heart out; as it gives me real relief
Will you bear with me some more, while I search for peace?
Don’t give up or look away, as I’ll get there in the end
I’m so near the point of getting some release

I’m grateful, one and all, for your love and such kind words
They’re much appreciated, as I wend and find my way
The sun’s begun to shine and the sky’s a vivid blue
As I look forward to a better, brighter day.

Live today facing forward—with your back on yesterday, your eyes on tomorrow, and your head and heart in the moment.”

Richelle E Goodrich

Dissociative Healing

Image by Ulrike Leone from Pixabay

The past came back to haunt me yesterday
I thought I was over all that
It suddenly came flooding back
When opposite my counsellor, I sat

I cried a river of tears
As I remembered the sickening pain
I didn’t want to go back to that place
To experience everything again

The adult within me departed
Although I was sat in my seat
I could feel myself drifting away
As my heart skipped its regular beat

My thoughts were transported elsewhere
To a time so long ago
The world seemed unreal as time transposed
My agony completely on show

I had gone somewhere else in my mind
Somewhere distant and safe
I couldn’t be touched from where I was hidden
As I became the child, the waif

Gradually soft words broke through
It’s okay, you’re secure, you’re here
The voice, far away, waited patiently
Till the muffled speech became clear

Her voice brought me back to the room
My head cleared as she reached out her hand
The fear left and the pain abated
As I began to understand

My adult returned; it was time to go
Slowly, I walked to the door
I thanked her and smiled as the sun shone in
For I knew I was healing for sure.

Please Be Careful Where You Tread

reach-for-the-stars be careful where you tread
Image source unknown

This is barely a poem; more of a ditty, so I hope you will excuse its simplicity. Despite spending the afternoon with a friend, I’ve been feeling rather low and introverted this evening, and my mind has been working overtime – probably too much time alone to think about my feelings.

If I want you to, would you love me true,
like it’s going out of fashion?
If I cry a tear, but you’re not aware,
do you think I’ve no compassion?
~~~
If I ask you to, would you stick like glue
and be there by my side?
If I don’t seem right, do you think I might
have died a little inside?
~~~
Do you seem nonplussed, I have issues with trust?
Do you know I’m not being rude?
If I’m slow to get going, I wonder if you’re knowing
I still like my solitude
~~~
If I can’t walk far and can’t reach the stars,
do you think that’s how I roll?
If I shiver and shake, don’t assume I’m fake,
and damn me with no parole
~~~
If it’s been a while since you saw me smile,
can you imagine what’s in my head?
Will you stop and think why I’m on the brink?
Please be careful where you tread.



Fragments

I will show you

fragments of me

myself

us

hesitantly

if you are kind

and have patience

to listen

and trust

~~~

I will open cupboard doors

that have been closed

for many years

and bring out

pieces of me

people

and truths

hidden

over my lifetime

~~~

Clumps

have been grabbed

thrown

to the ground

but I gathered them up

and tucked them away

in my mind

in my heart

carefully hidden

~~~

These pieces are me

if you see them

as superfluous,

say they are unimportant

are of no value

and without meaning

I will gradually

silently

hide them

once more

~~~

I will fold them

securely

in tissue paper

as if they were jewels

and place them

back into the cupboard

never to be seen again.

A NEW START

sideways view girl with hair in bun blog

Yesterday, I was jolted back to my neglected blog which is how come I’m here now after such a long break. I had an email from WordPress telling me that my annual payment was due on my blog plan which happened to be a ‘Premium’ plan. This had given me more options when it came to the look of my blog and the features and widgets that I could use. Unfortunately, my financial position isn’t brilliant, and I’m not able to afford the fee, hence my new look. It’s much simpler which feels quite different, but I think I’ll get used to it.

I’ve also decided to update and replace my gravatar. I’ve chosen a more adult image (above) rather than a picture of a young and rather sorry-looking child (below). This previous image was suitable for my blog when I started writing four years ago. Back then, I was writing mostly about my severe abuse in childhood and all the ensuing serious mental health illnesses I had. Fortunately, I’ve moved on from that period in my life – I don’t feel the need to share all those very distressing life experiences.

lantern girl 1

I want to get myself out the negative mindset I connect with this childish image. Maybe, this will give me the incentive, and added confidence I need to write more positively and frequently. To use a chlichéd phrase, ‘watch this space’, (but don’t hold your breath either!).  😉

A new start?