Shame hits my throat and burns my eyes as the last morsel of food I ate just half an hour ago is forced out of my stomach and into the toilet. Tears stream down my face as I flush the remains of my only meal down the drain.
I feel like you now know me on a more personal level. On a better level than those I am closest to. If you read my first post introducing my Eating Disorder to my blog then you will know that I have been suffering with this disease for as long as I can remember.
If you haven’t read this post of mine, then you can fill yourself in HERE!
It’s really hard for me to admit to the things I am about to admit to & I can’t help but feel ashamed of myself for slipping back into the darkness. I have now gone way past hiding behind my disease and pretending that it’s not there. I am now at a point where I want to document all the hurdles I face during my journey so that maybe one day I can touch a soul somewhere far and beyond & help them feel like they are not alone in this.
I am constantly badgered by the ugly voices in my head & I am unable to unburden the heaviness of my thoughts by openly speaking about my problems. I am physically unable to sit in front of someone & openly talk about the demons living in my bones without feeling like the floor underneath me is going to give way. My thoughts are disturbing and sick & I feel massively uncomfortable saying them out loud.
So again, here I am turning to my greatest outlet – writing.
I have spent so long hiding away from my disorder & I am only just grasping the ability to articulate it in words & confront my truths. Don’t mistake this as me being brave or showing courage because I am neither of those things. I just so tired, I am physically and mentally exhausted from pretending that everything is OK.
My last post was left at… “Eating disorders don’t happen overnight and neither does recovery.” In this post, I will explain to you exactly what that means.
Ramadan this year was very difficult – especially for me. It had been a while since I had abstained from food for such long hours, putting my body through starvation mode after forcing it to eat at least 2-3 meals for almost a year took me back to a state of madness. It made running back to the safe and comforting arms of Cruella so much more easier.
I committed my days of Ramadan trying my best to spiritually cleanse my soul & I dedicated my hours to gain God consciousness. In the midst of this I also trained my body to starve again and as a result lost a lot of weight and by the time it was Eid my collar bones were pushing their way through my skin, my face was sunken, and I could feel my ribs through my clothes.
I looked at my self in the mirror & I was so pleased with how skinny I looked. I couldn’t even recognise myself when I look in the mirror. After getting used to my chubby cheeks and accepting the fact I will never lose the roundness of my face I was shocked to find how small my face had actually gotten. Had I finally gotten to my goal weight?
I was so pleased with the way I looked I pushed Cruella away so far I was convinced I had got rid of her for good. She did her magic & I was skinny.
I can eat again now.
I can be normal again.
I can have a normal relationship with food again.
I can sit with my friends and family and eat like them again. I can finally be healthy and stop fighting with myself over food.
Except I can never be normal again. Can I?
I started eating comfortably. So comfortably I stopped keeping count of the number of meals I ate. I stopped keeping count of all the food I’ve swallowed and let enter my belly. I would eat 2-3 plates of rice and curry in the evening and I would top it off with an extra plate of rice and just butter.
I would sleep like a baby with a smile on my face because food was my friend again. This was the start of a new and beautiful relationship between me & food.
All that food slowly but surely turned to fat. Very quickly.
When I am happy I like to shop so off I went to buy myself some new clothes that would show off my new skinny body. I picked up some really cute dresses.
“They’ll look amazing on me and my new body” I thought.
Once I got home I tried my new purchases on & I was shocked to find they didn’t fit me so nicely.
I had put on weight.
The clothes were tight.
How had I put on so much weight in just 4 weeks.
Why aren’t these dresses fitting me properly?
HOW DID I PUT ON SO MUCH WEIGHT!
HOW COULD I HAVE LET THIS HAPPEN!
HOW COULD I HAVE LOST CONTROL OF MY WEIGHT!
You can’t even maintain your weight”
“Everything that goes wrong is because of you”
“You don’t deserve food”
So that is exactly what I did.
I started skipping meals again.
A fresh curry along with rice is cooked in my house every single day. The smell would reach my bedroom but I would refuse to eat.
I am always on the go at my job. This was a good excuse to start skipping lunch.
I didn’t want to drive my body to oblivion and at the same time didn’t want anyone to notice the drastic changes in my diet so I continued to eat breakfast.
I force feed myself crisps and biscuits and cakes and washed it down with red bull in the morning.
If I’m unable to purge this out within half an hour then I refuse to eat for the entire day.
& what do you know, the weight is shredding of as I type.
To silence Cruella’s nasty remarks and complaints I drowned her voice by picking up new books to read about girls suffering with disorders as well as frantically searching the internet for movies or documentaries of girls going through the same thing as me.
It’s my biggest trigger.
That’s why I do it.
To my delight, Netflix released its newest original To The Bone & I was ready to dive into the deep end of the Disordered Pool.
The film tells the tale of young woman suffering from anorexia. Yet another story of a middle class white girl who is disturbingly skinny. Yet another stereotypical representation of the disorder. Yet another story of a girl who is told by her doctor she must eat if she wants to live. Yet another story of a girl whose spine is painstakingly poking out of her back. She is gray and gaunt. Her body is bruised from excessive exercising. She looks ill. She looks unhealthy. She has an eating disorder.
SHE ALSO LOOKS LIKE EVERYTHING I AM NOT.
“YOU DON’T LOOK DISTUBINGLY ILL.”
“YOUR SPINE IS NOT STICKING OUT THROUGH YOUR SHOULDER BLADES NEITHER IS IT SCATTERED WITH BRUISES.”
“ YOU DO NOT EXCESSIVLY EXCERCISE”
“YOUR FACE ISN’T GAUNT IT’S ROUND”
“YOUR BONES DON’T SHOW AS MUCH AS HERS”
“YOU DON’T HAVE AN EATING DISORDER”
“YOU NEED TO LOOK LIKE HER TO HAVE AN EATING DISORDER”
“YOU NEED TO BE AS SKINNY AS SHE IS”
“YOU ARE NOT SICK, YOU ARE JUST FAT”
“YOU DON’T NEED ANY HELP YOU NEED TO LOOK MORE LIKE HER”
“DOCTORS WILL NEVER TAKE YOU SERIOUSLY”
“YOU WILL NEVER RECEIVE HELP BECAUSE YOU’RE FAT”
& this tipped me off the edge.
After watching the film I genuinely felt like I could never seek help or treatment for the demons that parade around in my head as I don’t even look like someone who is suffering from an eating disorder.
I don’t look frail or like I need help.
I don’t look like I’m suffering.
I don’t look like I haven’t eaten a meal in a week.
I am fat and will always be fat until I look like you can snap me in two with your bare hands…
Until I am hooked up to a machine that feeds me trough a pipe I am not ill.
Until a doctor sits me down and says to me “You need to eat If you want to live” I can’t consider myself as someone who is ill let alone seek any help for it!
In a twisted and sick way my eating disorder helps me feel like I am in control of something. When everything else in my life goes to shit and I am unable to control the crumbling pieces of my world from falling and burning to the ground the one and only thing I can run back to in full force in my disorder. That’s is the only place I feel sane. That is the only place that makes me feel like I have a purpose. That is the only place I can go and hide and find solace within.
The fact that I am able to control my food intake, I am able to restrict myself from the things we need to live on a day to day basis and still survive. I am able to get through my day to day life with just red-bull turning into acid in my stomach and still be ok. It makes me feel powerful. As though I have a superpower nobody else does.
I am the person behind my disorder. I am feeding it. Me and & Cruella, hand in hand, creating a storm in my mind and destroying all the flowers in there.
People talk about rock bottom in the most glorious way. It’s known as this dramatic & life changing turning point, where everything suddenly comes to a halt and all becomes clear. I haven’t hit rock bottom. Instead, I have carried a cloud of darkness around with me for as long as I can remember. I have allowed this cloud to suffocate me a little bit more every single day. I have been hanging off the edge of a cliff by the scruffs of my fingernails, scared to look down.
& now I have finally let go.