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Is it just about being thin?

  


Eating disorders are often characterised by an intense desire to lose weight. Whilst valid, this statement is only true to an extent. It is true that, over the years, I have had a real urge to get the numbers that show up on the scales to drop. Even a menial fall in weight was a rush, and I felt like I had succeeded at attaining the personal goals I kept setting myself. It was almost like a rush each time. I know full well - as I have mentioned in previous posts - that these thoughts of success are lies, and that they are anything but the answer to my problems.

When your goal is to be as thin as possible, the reactions of others can be frustrating, because their worries seem to fly in the face of everything you are thinking inside. They think:
Why can’t they just see that looking emaciating is anything but pretty? 
Why can’t they see that they are damaging their health? 
Why can’t they come to the realisation that they are ruining their life? 
For the outside world, these questions seem completely logical, but for those of us who suffer from Eating Disorders, they are very much the opposite. The weight loss is very much the surface of this illness.

I know that being skeletal is unattractive. I know that having clumps of your hair fall out is not how I want to look. I know that my bones that have been wasting away might end up with me looking like an old woman when I am really in my twenties. 

This now begs the question: If I know all of this, why didn't I stop years ago?

My answer is simple. 

From a straightforward perspective, my day-to-day habits stem from learnt behaviours that have become deeply embedded into my brain. Quite simply, they are a part of my life that are so entrenched, I sometimes don't even notice them. 

Going deeper, these behaviours provide me with a macabre sense of self-worth. I haven’t felt proud of much over the years, so for me, being the 'worst anorexic on the planet' has sometimes been a goal of mine, and when I get better, it can feel as though I have 'failed' at being anorexic. Each weight-loss goal that I met never felt like enough. This disorder is scheming and brainwashes me into believing yet again, that I am a failure. I couldn’t even lose enough weight. 

Most importantly, however, is the deep-seated anxiety that lies beneath all of these negative behaviours. I am anxious often about the most minor of life experiences. I can become anxious if I am 10 minutes late somewhere, or if I accidentally break a plate. One time, I wrote out a list of my worries, which on the face of it, would seem ridiculous, but it helped to almost get them off my chest. For example, I have a massive fear of being caught up in a terror attack. I am also terrified of being in a plane crash. Of course everyone is scared of these things! It is natural to be fearful of these awful possibilities. However, I reckon most people would just brush them aside and hope they would never encounter them. 

For me, restricting my intake of feed helps to numb these debilitating feelings of anxiety. It tells me that it’s ok if I have messed up in other areas. It’s ok that I haven’t managed other things that people around me have. It’s ok because I have starved myself instead. 

To many, this relationship with food is anathema to their way of thinking, and so it should be. However, if we all dwelt on this just a while longer, we would see that mental state and food are connected in all parts of our society. It is deemed normal to feel sad and to dig into a tub of ice cream, if someone is unwell , it is considered a kind gesture to drop round a box of chocolates. Food will often make us feel better. It is something we have always believed and are unconsciously aware of. Why then is it seen as abnormal to refrain from food when we are not at our best?

In the ‘real’ world, looking like a skeleton is anything but an achievement. It is perceived as the opposite. For me, I have been unfortunate enough to feel the opposite until relatively recently;  it has been my only method of achievement. 

I am currently on a path of learning that I can succeed in other areas. I love writing - it's why I started a blog. One of my dreams since I was young has been to become a journalist. I often feel it is the best form of therapy. When I put my feelings to paper, I develop a true sense of accomplishment. All the people who have told me they love seeing what I have to write makes me feel as if there is something I have to offer to the world. This is a stark contrast to the falsehoods I have been telling myself over the years that I have nothing to give. 

Success is however you define it. Some people see it as being rich, others see it as having a lot of children, and I used to see it as being thin.

Anorexia has fed me lie after lie, which is ironic in the sense that it is ‘feeding’ me these false beliefs, yet not allowing me to nourish my body with what it needs most. Whilst I cannot speak for all sufferers, I know now that being thin is not the answer to my problems. I now understand that it instead leads me into dangerous territory. However, whilst I now know what to do, that is easier said than done. It feels like an addiction. An addiction that is so convincing, it has indoctrinated me.

I really hope that, by publishing my experiences, people can slowly realise how eating disorders are so far from the superficiality of wanting to be thin. Most often, they are just a smoke-screen of a lack of confidence. 

Over this holiday period, my clinic has been closed and is reopening this week. I am so unbelievably thankful I have been given a chance at correcting my self-beliefs and teaching myself that success does not come in the form of destruction. As always, it is a work in progress. 



                         



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