Shocked

I feel the need to blog about something today which has been on my mind all night.

I knew of a young girl who developed anorexia when she was 11 or 12, which was a good few years ago now. Her family sought treatment at a residential centre and the girl seemed to thrive, emerging weight restored and looking absolutely fantastic; obviously there was still mental healing to take place, but she seemed so positive and full of the zesty youthfulness that a pre-teen should be.

Many years have passed, and yesterday by chance I stumbled across her profile on a social network website. I couldn't believe it. The girl staring back at me from that passport sized photo was a skeleton, almost literally; her beautiful eyes stared, massive and dull, in a head so angular and gaunt that I actually took a deep breath. Now at University, she is still very clearly in a battle with her ED. And I was heartbroken for her.

All these years, when my thoughts have absently drifted to her and wondered about her life, I told myself that her ED would have left her alone. I prayed that it had. And I'm just so sad that she has spent her entire childhood and early adulthood with this monster.

It really made me think - I don't want to waste any more of my life with this disorder. Obviously it's not that easy to just cast it aside and this poor girl clearly has a lot of issues which make it so hard for her to eradicate the disorder, but from a personal point of view the idea of spending the next 5-10+ years of my life cycling between being healthy and being underweight, living a life of guilt and restriction and compensation and self-hatred, is just horrendous. I don't want to continue spending my Mondays in therapy, and I don't want to worry my family and have everyone ask if I've eaten enough today.

Some days, it's so tempting to listen to the voice that wants me to return to being underweight. An outward manifestation of the internal turmoil, a visible indication of my ability to control at least one thing. But I don't want to be known for being able to control my weight below a healthy level, that's a stupid idea. I've been locked in this battle for 2 years now, which is a tiny amount of time compared to some - when my treatment team told me recently that I'd made no weight progress in 6 months I was shocked, because 6 months had passed me by in a flash; 6 months of worrying, calculating, controlling,  debating…6 months that could have been spent eating what I enjoyed, travelling, laughing, playing badminton, grooming horses, watching racing, painting, smiling. That time went so quickly, so who is to say that another year, 2 years, 4 years, 10 years stuck in the same cycle won't creep up on me too?

I just won't let it. So, on that account, tonight I shall be having spaghetti bolognese. This might seem like absolutely nothing to 99.9% of people out there, but the last time I had this I cried so hard into the plate that a pool of tears prevented me from eating most of it. But I shall not remain trapped and in order to move on, in order to leave this evil, life-sucking disease behind, I will conquer my fears.

A sad reflection

Recently the thoughts have been loud, and every bite comes with a silent struggle in my mind. It's so tiring having a constant dialogue running through your head, and even more tiring when you're trying really hard to fight it.

Earlier, however, I came across something that shocked me. When I first started trying to lose weight, I posted online looking for help with my weight loss and exercise efforts. Finding these diaries again has quite honestly made me feel ill; now, with my years of nutritional knowledge and many many hours of psychological help, I can see how utterly distorted my relationship with food and exercise was from the very beginning.

Each day I wrote out what I ate. I won't post it here because it's extremely unhealthy, but I have no idea where I got the idea that starving myself was a good plan. How did I function? It continues to stagger me just how much food I can eat and maintain my weight - the body is an amazing thing, and yet I abused mine so horribly.

Reading through my posts, I came across some statements which just made want to scream

Included in these statements were:

"I'm in such a bad mood today, for no reason."

-Actually, Suz, maybe it's because you've barely eaten a thing….

"Today has been a bad day for me, I'm having a bit of a battle mentally with myself regarding food...really quite worried that I'm going to start doing something stupid soon."

-This breaks my heart, to be honest. I wrote this after only a few weeks of poor nutrition; I wasn't underweight at all, but over-exercising and drastically underrating had already caused my thoughts to become extremely worrying, so worrying that I even wrote about it despite having no clue about ED's. 

"I'm getting back into not eating enough again..."

- Yes, correct observation there…

"I've been tired and a bit out of breath all day, hence the lack of exercise, and tonight I realised that my heart rate is quite low. So I ate my own bodyweight in grapes...didn't help though"

- Only 1 month after starting the crazy diet/exercise regime, this happened. It didn't take long before my body started sending some serious warning signs, all of which I ignored. And no wonder those measly grapes didn't help!

"Had a really stupid night and, despite going to bed at 9pm, didn't get to sleep until 3am because I spent the whole night worrying about what to have for breakfast because I don't have time to exercise today - the idea of having 2 weetabix was giving me a panic attack. Stupid food fears....I did end up having 2 weetabix."

-What can I say? Again, at this point I wasn't underweight, just obviously malnourished and the anorexic thoughts had clearly started, loudly. This makes me want to weep.

"I'm dieting and teeter at the edge of taking it too far; I obsess, calorie count everything, have a panic attack if someone uses butter/semi-skimmed milk etc, and I sometimes go even further. However, up until last night I've been relatively good at making sure I hit a certain number of calories per day and NOT going below it...I just have these stupid moments where my entire life is consumed by 'What am I having for lunch tomorrow? What is the lowest calorie option? Maybe I shouldn't have anything at all...or maybe I should splurge, screw it.'"

-I just want to reach into the past, grab myself by the shoulders and shake myself. Hard. 

"I'm so ashamed...where is my self control?

Going to do 30mins on my exercise bike although the damage has been done. What a moron. Ok, so it's just a bad food day and that's FINE, but I'm mentally beating myself up like I've just commited a terrible crime. Urgh. The chips weren't even good! They were greasy and now I feel sick - and I was thinking that whilst shovelling them into my face, WHY?!"

- Terribly guilty feelings started to dictate my life…

My life was typed out as a numbers game - calories in vs. calories out, and the mis-match between the 2 was huge. I was at a healthy weight during all of these postings (although I thought myself fat, how tragic) which just proves that you can have a very disordered mind without being underweight. I thoroughly believe that poor nutrition flicked the switch in my brain and started anorexia very quickly after I began restricting; the restriction, coupled with the amount of exercise I was doing daily, meant that my body and brain weren't being nourished at all, and the effects were immediate. Each time I posted it reads like a cry for help, yet not one person recognised it and instead applauded my ability to eat so little and do so much.

Although it makes me so, so sad to read how grim my life was at this time (and this was before the effects of being underweight began, obviously…) it also acts as a stark reminder to me that I do not want to go back to that place, and that I must keep eating well. I don't have to be underweight for the guilty, panicky thoughts to be in place, but as long as I am undernourished they will be there.

Poor body. I will never starve you again. I promise.

Remembering who I am right now

Now that I look, feel and behave much more like a healthy adult, I often have a hard time remembering that I am not, yet, entirely healthy. Aside from the little weight I still have to put on to be considered physically healthy, I still have an awful lot of work to do mentally before I can consider myself to be anything like recovered.

Often it does me a lot of good to think of statements which apply solely to me. Looking at myself in the mirror and thinking “But I look fine, why is the rest of the world allowed to eat healthily while I continue to eat all the foods people say I shouldn’t?” reminds me of two things: 1) The very fact that I still worry about the foods I’m eating and consider cutting things out of my diet means I still have a lot of work to do, and 2) I am ill. I have an illness which means certain things that don’t necessarily apply to ‘healthy’ people do apply to me. Much like you’d tell someone undergoing chemotherapy to stay out of crowded shopping malls, or a recovering alcoholic to stay out of bars, there are certain rules which I am, for the moment at least, required to live by.

1. I must continue to eat 3 meals, and 3 snacks, every single day to repair my body, metabolism and mind.
2. Dropping any amount of weight – even ‘just a few pounds’ – is a very damaging aim for me as a I try to recover from an eating disorder.
3. My meals and snacks must, for the most part, be balanced to prevent me from getting sugar highs/hungry soon after eating.
4. Reading weight/diet/fitness related content in magazines, newspapers or online, or watching such topics on television, triggers negative thoughts and therefore I shouldn’t tune in to these things.

It’s often hard trying to resume a normal life and adhere to the conditions which keep me well; ‘normal’ people can miss breakfast or lunch and be just fine, ‘normal’ people don’t want to tear their own skin off when the newspaper comes with a 5:2 supplement, ‘normal’ people don’t have to remember snacks, ‘normal’ people don’t get upset when the conversation turns to how much weight everyone in the room has lost in January. But I’m not normal. Not yet. In order to achieve the life I strive, I must concentrate on achieving these recovery goals every single day, no matter how tiring or boring or plain inconvenient they seem.

Things that make me happy

I keep meaning to blog more; I have many ideas for what I want to write about in my head, but when I sit down to write I can't seem to get the words right. Actually, what I'm striving for is perfect - a bad ED trait and something that is impossible to reach. I need to learn to write from my heart and be happy with my words however they come out - they don't need to be perfect.

Before I get back to blogging about some of the issues I want to talk about, I thought I'd just blog about anything! So, to start the day off well, have a list of 20 random things that make me happy and that I must learn to fully appreciate more:

1. Opening a new box of Bran Flakes with big flakes.
2. Realising that I remembered to make up a new bucket of sugar beet for the horses the day before, so I don't need to do it today.
3. Reading an academic paper the whole way through and being able to concentrate on it all.
4. The beautiful red sky this morning.
5. Shiny new coins.
6. When I am giving the horses new straw bedding and it is easy to pull the straw off the bale.
7. Getting a piece published in The Racing Post newspaper and being contacted by the thrilled connections of the horse I wrote about.
8. Watching the puppy stretch.
9. Freshly baked scones.
10. Browsing ski brochures.
11. Macintosh red apples.
12. Cinnamon.
13. Bunches of flowers.
14. My Lumie alarm clock which is transforming my sleep.
15. Buying Lottery scratch cards now and again.
16. Mini Eggs.
17. Starting off with a bomb-site living room, and tidying until it is back to normal.
18. My new Espa bath oil that mum kindly bought me.
19. Eye-lash tinting.
20. Feeling, for a moment at least, content. 

Back to school!

As I stood on the train this morning, this song was the first to play from my iPod. It made me smile.

365 days ago I was in a very bad place. I had a total breakdown whilst on holiday and, when I came home, it was decided that I was too unwell to return to my nursing degree and I was to take a year out. It was like my world had ended; I was overwhelmed with guilt, failure, disbelief, shame, annoyance, despair. How could I, a contentious, clued-up 22 year old, have let my life spiral so deeply out of control that I'd had to drop out of Uni and live back at home while my friends got married, had children and held down full time jobs?

 The truth is, taking that year out was the best decision of my life. I could never have continued my full-time, full-on nursing degree whilst seriously battling anorexia. First in my thoughts were the patients and staff where I'd be working - it just wouldn't be fair on them. Secondly, the tough physical, mental and emotional toll that nursing takes on a person just isn't compatible with recovery and the time I had allowed me to make the baby steps towards eliminating the demon from my head. University in general is a toxic environment for those with eating disorders; it allows for unsupervised meals and exercise, offers little in the way of emotional comfort, often demands long hours and is a hard place if you stubble with perfectionism, as many with ED's do. Distancing myself from those problems allowed me to focus on myself, relax and enjoy life again.

In October it became apparent that, despite the progress I'd made since January, I still wasn't ready to go back to nursing. This killed me inside - once again, my thoughts immediately screamed failure. But, I can now see that my decision to switch from nursing to health studies doesn't signify failure, but signifies a newfound sense of determination and resilience that did not exist while I was deep in my ED. Ok, so nursing didn't work out for me right now, but I can still get out there and learn what I love, and can make decisions which don't please other people, or please my perfectionism, but are best for me at this point in my life.

Despite still feeling a teensy bit ropey this morning, I packed my bag, packed my lunch and positively skipped out the door at 7am ready to start school all over again. When I got into the class of nursing students, for a moment I did feel a little sad; they are out there managing fine, so why can't I? But as I enjoyed the feeling of concentration in a lecture, and took notes without my stomach rumbling, I realised that comparing myself to those around me is a fruitless past-time. I am me. I didn't ask for my struggles, but I've overcome them and work around them and now I'm back out there, taking a new path but one which I know, ultimately, is right for me. I'm proud of what I've chosen to do, proud of the challenges that I have faced, and a little bit proud of myself.

I'm sure I won't be saying this in a few weeks when I have a 4500 word essay due, but right now I love being back at school!

I hate being ill!

For a long time, pizza frightened me. Now, I positively look forward to the nights where a BBQ chicken pizza features as part of my tea. A few nights ago, however, I put my pizza in the oven and realised that I really didn't feel like it, or any other food; strange, as I'm always peckish by tea-time. As the night wore on, I felt progressively worse until I ended up lying on the bathroom floor, head pounding, throat white and aching all over.

I haven't been sick sick for years; when I was young, tonsillitis was a frequent visitor and I vividly remember literally crawling to the GP surgery with my bucket, wondering why I never saw any other kids at the Doctor's actually being sick (something that I still wonder…). I had rather forgotten how awful it is to feel so poorly that sitting up in bed is a tremendous effort, and how much I miss being able to do things like eat and sandwich or drink a cup of tea.

For once, I actually want to be able to eat all my food - some days meeting my meal plan is an impossible and horrendous task, but right now it'd be just dandy to be able to eat again without feeling nauseous, and to feel hungry. I must remind myself of this when I do feel better! For the longest time I've taken feeling well for granted, and now that I feel lousy I realise that I should appreciate feeling like a human being a bit more! I've been trying to keep eating and drinking as much as possible and, thankfully, today I feel much better and so far have managed cereal and toast, a sandwich and some Ritz biscuits. Being ill panics me rather; I could get away with not eating, or eating less, and I get confused about wether I really do feel sick or if it's just ED butting in that because I'm sitting inside on the sofa all day, I don't need to eat. What I'm trying to do, however, is act normally and manage what I can - I need food to keep my energy up and help me get better. Plus I always seem to feel worse with an empty stomach?

Fingers crossed this horrible bug vanishes pronto - I'm supposed to start back at Uni tomorrow :(

Occupation: Recovering

On Monday, my dietitian described recovery as a full time job. In the early stages (and I don't just mean early as in the first few months, it can takes many months or even years to reach the next stage in the journey where hunger is normalised and the thoughts much less obtrusive) recovery takes up much of your time and thinking. Thinking about what you're eating, when you're eating, making sure you get enough etc etc…it's time consuming. Then there is all the time spent dealing with the thoughts and feelings that come with eating; guilt, pride, bargaining with yourself, debating in your head, anxiety, confusion.

The idea of devoting a lot of time to recovery sat badly with me at first. "But I just want to be normal - I don't want to have to think about what I'm eating and when, it's not what other people do" I moaned at her. And I am right, it's not what normal people do. But, contrary to what my head tries to tell me, I'm not like other people. I'm recovering from an eating disorder, learning to eat normally again and trying to retire my hunger cues, metabolism and physical health - so devoting time to these things is important and necessary.

Sometimes it does really frustrate me that I can't just walk out the door without planning snacks or taking a packed lunch. I remember, vaguely, the days when I left for Uni without a care about lunch, intending to purchase something from the bakery next door when I felt hungry. However, I'm hopeful that that day will come again; right now, however, I need to stick to a plan to prevent me from undereating or making poor choices. And I shouldn't be ashamed of that - it won't be forever.

I have a serious tendency to strive for normality to such an extent that recovery gets put on the back-burner. I think I'm doing well, because I'm 'being like everyone else', but in fact this leads to me slipping. Desperate not to become a slave to my disorder, I've been trying to push it out of my life by ignoring it - this doesn't work. In fact, I do need to commit myself full time to recovery, at least for a little while. Eating properly, exercising less, removing triggers - all things which are wholly necessary to become 100% better.

"Many of life's failures are people who did not realise how close they were to success when they gave up." - Thomas  Edison 

Just because I'm not at the very beginning of my recovery journey doesn't mean that I can't choose now to commit completely and make this my main focus for a while. Ok, I'm not going to sit at home 24/7 writing positive quotes and meal planning, but I am going to recognise and accept that more time than I have been previously prepared to give up is required for recovery. One day, it won't need to be my conscious main focus, but for right now, recovery is my job.

Honesty and tears

Oh dear. My predictions about today not being a good day were correct.

This morning, I had dietitian and psychologist appointments. They didn't go well; what I believed had been a successful, 'free' Christmas was shot down in flames when it was discovered that I'd lost weight.  I started this blog with the intention of changing and haven't done that so far, and I'm mad at myself. I'm going to admit some things which are painful to say:

• I haven't actually gained any weight since July 2013. In fact, I've lost a little.
• Meal planning stopped a long time ago. And I was not mentally ready to stop.
• I haven't had a mid-morning snack for some weeks now.
• The anorexic voice has become firmly in charge of my food choices; healthy things have crept back in and overwhelmed my snacks, I've been choose light food, avoiding cheese etc.
• Walking has become an issue for me again - I'm not sure what impact, if any, the walking I do has on my weight (I don't walk far) but it's the rigidity of the habit, the 'I must walk today or I am a fat lazy person,' which is the problem.
• Self care = non-existent. A warning sign for me is when I stop caring what I look like, and I've long since done that.

Ok, I said them. I hate my ED for all that. For making me a liar, for making me manipulative. I came home from my appointments and burst into tears, before spending a long time sniffling and isolating and feeling sorry for myself. Some days, like today, recovery seems like an impossible uphill task.

"Success often comes to those who dare and act; it seldom goes to the timid who are ever afraid of the consequences." Jawaharlal Nehru

Recovery is not, however, impossible. It just requires a lot more effort, determination, motivation and grit than I have been putting in thus far. Crying to mum earlier, I said "I just don't know how to get better." But I do know how. I just don't like the answer. Meal planning, upping my calories, varying my diet…it's all scary, out of my comfort zone stuff, not to mention time consuming. But without putting in this effort, I'll never get better - it's that simple. My weight has been slowly slipping for so long now, and it's an ever sliding ride back down to ED-hell if I'm not careful. I thought 2014 was going to be a good year? Well, I have to make it that.

Coming my way in the next few weeks is a lot of hard work. I predict some tears too. But it can only be worth it in the end, and I can't wait to finally go to my treatment team with some good news rather than tears and a slice of self-loathing. 

I started this afternoon in determined fashion….

Things I am thankful for

Tomorrow, on paper, is a rubbish day for me; I have 2 appointments early on, and the post-Christmas weigh in at 9am just seems mean. I'm dreading it, to be honest.

But, keen not to let the prospect of tomorrow ruin my today, I'm going to list 10 things I'm thankful for today:

1. Singing swing music in the car with mum
2. How happy the puppy was to see me when I came into the kitchen at 7am this morning
3. The big juicy prawns I had for dinner
4. Walking for the Sunday papers in a beautiful, frosty sunrise
5. The fact my hair seems longer
6. Ginger and clementine shower-gel
7. Manni digging for polo mints in my pockets this evening
8. My hot water bottle
9. Peppermint tea
10. The loud, squeaky yawn the puppy makes when he wakes up

Don't be a sheep

It's that unescapable, unavoidable annual revolution. When the newspapers come with free diet plans (thanks, todays Times…), unknown 'celebrities' release workout DVD's, even my local radio station has it's own diet website, and the tv is almost unwatchable. Low-calorie, no-calorie, high-intensity, fat-burning, fat-blocking, carb-blocking, weight-watchers, slimming-world, ready-meals, calorie-counted, calorie-controlled…the list goes on and on and on.

I know it's unavoidable, but I'm not going to lie, it is hard for me to deal with all these diets and the media telling me that if I'm not trying to get fit, I'm a failure. My initial diet that led me to develop my ED started with a New Years resolution on January 1st, so hearing about my friends losing weight brings back bad memories. However, I've started to realise that I will never be able to remove this trigger from my life, and I must try and remember that by February 1st, it'll all be over for another year as people ditch the unsustainable 'healthy new lifestyle' and the media hype dies down.

One diet I have a serious problem with is the 5:2 diet, where the participant eats normally 5 days a week, then eats 500 calories for 2 days. A friend of mine is currently embarking on this plan, and said on Facebook that she "dreads life 2 days a week!" How sad. Life's far, far too short to 'dread life' and starve oneself, and nobody should wake up wishing time away simply because they won't eat that day. To me, this seems a thoroughly unsustainable way of  living and completely miserable; trust me, been there, done that. This morning, I flicked onto The Daily Mail website (I know, I know, I shouldn't…) and the main story is about 4 women who lost weight on this crazy plan. I completely understand that weight loss is a healthy necessity for some, and in that sense I have no problem with it, but I firmly believe it should be conducted in a sensible and sustainable fashion. One woman writes that she's now maintaining her weight and "only fasting for one day a week." Again, this strikes me as tragic; we shouldn't have to be fasting at all. What happened to everything in moderation?

Just because it is January, and the Daily Mail are telling everyone that they must look toned and spend a portion of their life hungry to be in control, doesn't mean we all have to do it.

Starting today - an intention to change

I'm well aware that there must be thousands of these posts on January 2nd, but as I sit here enjoying some 'me' time while the family are out, what better time to set up my new blogging adventure?

Of course, January 1st would have been a more traditional day to begin, but I was implementing another new decision all day; a decision to get out there and enjoy life and all the adventures that it holds. Spooked by a poor forecast and feeling rather lethargic, I was sorely tempted to stay inside and celebrate New Years Day by fermenting in front of the fire. But given that staying inside has led to me feeling really grim lately, I decided to buck up and get out there - we were going racing! 

We got cold, a bit damp and very tired - but y'know what? I had a great time. The people were jolly, the racing was really good (if you come to know me, you'll realise that horse racing is one of my greatest loves) and just getting out in the fresh air was a relief after all the inside time that the festive season brings. Pushing myself a little pays off, and today I appreciate the chance to have a day inside. 

So, why have I started blogging under this cringey title today? Well, my story is thus; I have an eating disorder and have been in recovery for over a year now. Great progress has been made since the dark days of starvation, isolation and exercise but, as we embark on 2014, I have realised that my recovery is now stagnant. Almost weight-restored, less anxious and much more normal looking, it is tempting for me to say 'That's it, I'm done!' But I am not. By a long shot. Aside from the small amount of weight I still have to come to terms with putting on, my mind feels a very, very long way behind my body. I no longer push myself, no longer challenge myself, have neglected to take great care of myself of late, and this feeling of 'stuckness' is wearing me down. It's wearing my family and treatment team down too. So, in an effort to unstick myself, I've decided to start blogging. 

"It does not matter how slowly you go, so long as you do not stop." Confucius

I like that quote a lot, but I feel that I personally have taken my foot off the gas too much, and that has to change. I'm entering my 24th year in the world and want to make it a good one, not one controlled by ED. I hate New Years Resolutions (after all, the last one I made and stuck to ended me up here…) and endeavour not to make any, but today marks my intention to change. I shall have to be brave, I shall have to be bold, but I will find the magic.