I have decided that my first post should really give you an insight into the last few years, and so consequently why I’ve decided to change careers, and start this blog- hopefully it will be in a non ‘X Factor sob story’ fashion!
Towards the end of 2010/beginning of 2011 things in my life changed a bit. The breakdown of a relationship, death of a Grandparent, and me moving out of my parents seemed to trigger something. I guess it was the loss of control of things that were happening around me. I suddenly felt like I had nothing- no relationship or prospects of a family, no amazing high flying career, nothing much that was my own.
Standardly with me, I lose weight when matters of the heart are involved as I lose my appetite altogether- a heartbreak diet I guess, and this had happened with previous breakups. What had never ever happened was the anorexic hell that quickly followed. It started as bulimia, just every so often, after a ‘binge.’ I was fine, I thought, I could handle it and no one need know. It got a bit better for a short time and things seemed OK. Then I started to gain weight, my clothes were tight, I didn’t like it. So it began again, worse this time. I’d make myself sick after ‘normal meals,’ not being able to bear the idea of gaining more weight.
On New Years Eve 2011 I held a party at mine, and during the evening must have made myself sick about 5 times, and it was on that night that I thought things needed to change. I couldn’t keep doing this, this wasn’t what ‘normal’, people did- this wasn’t what I did! So I tried to get better and stop with the sickness, and for a short time it wasn’t too bad. The thing was, I was still desperately unhappy, and felt every aspect of my life was a failure. An eating disorder is a mental illness so that’s what needed to be addressed- the mind.
This is when it got a lot worse. My life, as I had previously known it, just melted beneath me, and I was unable to stop it- I also didn’t care. The only thing I cared about was food, and calories, and counting calories. Gradually I lost more and more weight, eating barely anything, training and exercising pretty much daily. I saw my GP who referred me to an eating disorders consellor but I personally found no help what so ever. I had to move back to my parents, as I just couldn’t live alone. Then my mum saw me weighing lettuce and knew she had to find some sort of help, before I actually killed myself.
I saw a therapist and nutritionist- weekly and monthly respectively at first, and then as I improved I saw them both less frequently. I genuinely don’t know if I’d be where I am now had I not sought help away from the NHS. Anorexia was hell, absolute hell. You are fighting a battle with something, something that’s taken away every inch of the person you were, and replaced it with just a hollow shell. You aren’t living, just existing in a strange world that you don’t want to be in.
There is so much to talk about with eating disorders, the help available and the help I received. I’d like to write more on each, and will do further blogs on things I’ve mentioned, but just wanted to give you an insight into my last few years