My Story

I've never been fussy around food- even in the depths of my ED I enjoyed food. A common misconception about eating disorders is that we hate it, despise it even! Whilst this is the case for some, a large majority actually love food. I like to phrase it as: rather than hating the actual concept of eating, I actually hate the thoughts I have surrounding it. I hate the voice in my head that tells me I don't deserve it; the voice that turned my entire purpose into how much I weighed or ate.

My homelife became unsettled when I was 9. Food was always a social thing for my family- the time we would get together and talk nonsense. Amidst the chaos, this routine had quietly simmered away into the background. I quickly became fascinated by diets and 'good' foods and 'bad' foods. I started weighing myself on a regular basis. I didn't really know what it all meant yet; calories weren't introduced to me at this point.  However being an academic kid also meant I was curious, I loved learning. If I didn't know a term, or something that came up in conversation, I would immediately research it. I was smart enough to know that eating less = losing weight. 

I matured a lot faster than my peers in primary school, when raising concerns about my body I was faced with "It's just puppy fat, you'll grow out of it." But my new habit of comfort eating may have had something to do with it. I had recently joined a new school- midway through year six. Since I was little, I have always been sensitive and anxious; being in crowded places lead to panic attacks and meltdowns. Starting a new school as the quiet kid was a real life night-mare. To cope with this feeling, I avoided eating during the day and ate dinner at night. I thrived on routine and structure and this became one I had needed for a very long time. 

By the time I was 12, COVID hit. Like many others, I was forced to be quarantined with my very dysfunctional family. I had used self-harm since I was 9, but now it had developed into cutting. I fell down a dark rabbit hole of binging and purging. Eating past the point of discomfort numbed the feelings I desperately avoided: fear and sadness. Due to this cycle, I had gained 3 stone in just 3 months- instigating the referral to ED services.

Its common knowledge how sickening the waiting list for these services are. When I finally got an appointment (which was virtual due to the pandemic), my eating habits had dramatically took a turn for the worse and I was now counting every calorie that touched my lip. Engaging with 'pro-ana' sites, my head was riddled with illogical and disordered thoughts. I made journals of my plans to lose weight, often consisting of pro-ana quotes and excuses to not eat. This all went unnoticed, even by my ED clinician who was keeping a record of my weight. Yet I successfully lost almost half my body weight in a year. 

At age 13, I was living in a residential care home. I had been moved into a non-kinship placement after 3 re-feeding admissions during the summer. When asked if they had training regarding eating disorders, they said yes. 6 months later as I ended up back in hospital, a staff member had mentioned this training never took place. I was called all sorts of names. When I would ask for help with my self-harm, I was called attention-seeking. As a result, I hid all incidents of self-harm and refused to tell anybody. Later when they found out some of them required stitches, they shouted at me because I should have told someone! I re-engaged with purging, and was told "you know better than this, we can't stop you but you have to disinfect every surface once you've done it." I was 13 years old. 

I had moments of quasi-recovery. To outsiders I looked like I was doing well: eating 3 meals a day. What they didn't take into account was the sneaky antics of an ED. My 3 meals a day resulted in me being admitted to hospital again. Even though my mum had sent them an email expressing her concerns over my weight loss, three months prior! When I went nil by mouth for a week I was rushed into hospital, yet when I ate less than 300 calories a day disguised as 3 meals, I was told I was doing well...

Two years later, my placement had ended. The residential home kicked me out for the reason they took me in. The director of the home sat on my bedside table and called me insane. Carers told me its a choice, the manager of the home told me I was too difficult for the other girls to live with. I was called manipulative and a bully for not eating when someone else wasn't. I was later moved into a secure unit...

I am now in a stable home, engaging with a private eating disorder specialist. It has not been a smooth journey, and there will still be bumps in the future. However, I have the right support around me and a better mindset to help pick me up quicker than before. I truly believe working with somebody who specialises fully in eating disorders has made a significant difference; they understand me like no one else ever will.