Mealtimes and Milestones (2 page)

People are noticing me. My friends have never really seen me before. Now finally I am being recognized by them – and they like me because I am thin.

This was perhaps the first time I made the connection between thinness and happiness – and I loved this new-found power. Starving myself gave me a power and a real feeling of excitement
that I had never experienced before.

Maybe my eating disorder was a predisposition within me, maybe it was a manifestation of my inner insecurities, or maybe there weren’t any specific triggers. I am now 16 years old, and my
anorexia was diagnosed when I was 14, yet I can remember from as young as 11 or 12 years old wanting to be physically fit. I would carry my school bag, sports bag and violin up to school all at
once, instead of going on the bus, in an attempt to make myself stronger. At that stage I hadn’t made the connection between exercise and weight loss, and an unhealthy relationship with food
didn’t arrive until I was 13, but the foundations were certainly there.

Thinking back, I can’t pinpoint exactly every part of my life which could possibly have contributed to my eating disorder – and it would be unrealistic to try. But I have always
worked to the best of my ability, and even at a young age I would stay up late to make sure that a piece of homework was perfect. Before anorexia overtook my life, it must have been perfectionism
and an inbuilt highly driven trait within me that led me to these extremes, because no one taught me or told me to do this.

I have had a very happy and stable upbringing, and have always been loved and had positive reinforcement, yet I still had many gnawing insecurities about my likeability and talents. I never felt
I was good enough, even when I got an A grade. I guess sooner or later these doubts had to reveal themselves, because no one can possibly hide them for ever.

I was bullied at my junior school, but my current school was the one I have always wanted to go to, and I absolutely loved it. I started off as a day pupil, but enjoyed school life so much that
I started boarding one night a week, then two. By the end of the first term I was a weekly boarder.

It was at school that I developed an interest in running, and I ran for the county, but I quickly realized that I could use it to lose weight. Perfect. People would just think that I was
training. I set a mental programme for myself. Each week the distance would increase – and the percentage for my enjoyment became lower and lower. It wasn’t for me any more; instead it
was for the voice getting louder and louder inside my head, punishing me if I didn’t comply. Eventually I was running around 25 km a week and swimming around 6 km – on only half a
yoghurt and a cherry tomato a day. But how did it get to that stage?

The voice crawled in gradually, but quickly tightened its grip.

‘It’s easy,’
it told me.
‘Just do it really slowly and no one will notice.’
A whole jacket potato soon became half, then a quarter. Salad became a
leaf or two. I would follow this restricting pattern in the week, but then I would eat ‘normally’ at the weekend, so that my parents wouldn’t notice. It was the perfect plan.

Finally my lack of eating and excessive exercise became apparent to people around me. They would say that it wasn’t normal to do this amount of exercise.

‘Yes it is.’

‘Are you anorexic?’

‘No, you liar.’

I didn’t want to believe them. They were lying, they were meant to be my friends, but they were just trying to make me fat. I hate them. I HATE THEM.

But they knew something was wrong, and were very concerned about how much I was exercising. Eventually they took my running shorts and hid them from me to try to stop me from going
outrunning.

By that time I’d started to faint at school. The first time it happened I had just come back from a run. I was in my room on my own, and my sight became blurred, and black circles took
over my vision. The black circles in front of my eyes were like the anorexia on my mind, distorting the truth. Of course I was scared, but I was even more scared to tell anyone.

‘If you say anything I will punish you, you’ll regret it, keep yourself to yourself, they don’t understand. They don’t like you either.’

I fainted again later on in the week, and I was light-headed. I begged my friends not to say anything to the teachers, but they did.

‘See … they’ve betrayed you … I would never do that to you. I saw you and befriended you when they didn’t want you.’

This was true. The voice had picked me up when I was low, and convinced me that I was invincible; why should I think that it was lying to me?

Later on, the school matron came to see me. At first I was really closed off to her.

‘Don’t tell her anything.’

Despite what the voice was telling me I did admit about the collapsing. She told me to wait in my room and not to leave. I felt angry and alone. And now my one friend was punishing me too.

‘Look what you did . ..you stupid, idiot girl. You are nothing. I hate you too now.’

‘No, please don’t leave me, I’m sorry, you’re all I’ve got,’ I cried to myself in my room. In a short amount of time I had become reliant on this imaginary,
deceiving person, and I couldn’t get out of this loop. It was my one friend.

I felt that no one could understand me, and I didn’t want to talk to anyone because I was afraid that they would laugh at me. No one could understand what was going on in my head. I had
admitted about the fainting, but I was never going to confess about the voice.

Matron and my house parents told me to go and see the school doctor. He made me feel really uncomfortable and put me completely out of my comfort zone. He weighed me and measured my height. My
BMI
¹
was obviously low and he said that by the end of the next school holidays he wanted me to have put weight on. He also banned me from doing sport. However,
this just accelerated the anorexia, because if I couldn’t lose weight by exercising I had to restrict my food intake even more.

‘See … they are all betraying you … I am your true friend.’
I began to hate everyone around me. I felt on my own. In desperation I started to make myself sick. I
couldn’t see any other way. The packed lunch would be given to me, and I would open up the packets of chocolate, crisps and sandwiches, to make it look like I had eaten something – and
then throw it all in the bin. When dinner came, I ate about half of it – I was so hungry, I hadn’t eaten properly in so long, but then in comes …

‘What have you done? You’ve got to get rid of it.’
I had to do it, I had no choice. I went into the toilet and just made myself sick. It was an awful experience. I sank
to the floor after I did it and sobbed alone in the dark. I knew this wasn’t normal, but I had to get rid of the toxic food that I had just eaten. There was no other option. The voice even
congratulated me afterwards for doing it.

In a matter of only a few months it had taken over my life. I would do anything for anorexia to please it. It destroyed any hope and inner strength that I had, and it stopped me from accepting
help and seeing who I really was, and how physically and mentally ill I was. I continually doubted myself, and many times through this journey I doubted the point of my life. I was never good
enough and I always put myself down. I felt like I was screaming out my pain and loneliness, but the sound of my misery was buried and trapped deep within me.

It picked me up because I couldn’t control this feeling of failure which always followed me, and so the only way I could gain self-confidence was to starve myself. But I sank further and
further into myself. I isolated myself from others and was in complete denial that anything was wrong.

My body was so weak. Every single muscle ached. It got to the stage where all I could do was lie on a sofa and rest. Whenever I tried to stand up I would just collapse. But all I could think
about was how this was making me a better person.

Eventually Mum took me to our local hospital. By this point I was refusing not only to eat but, more worryingly, to drink anything at all.

‘Keep going … you’re doing so well’

I was cross with her for taking me, but also relieved because my anorexia told me I was being recognized as a ‘good anorexic’. Finally I had something to identify myself by. I
continued to refuse all nourishment, despite endless support from my parents and the hospital staff, until the point came when they had to act: I was delirious and my heart was beginning to slow
down.

Refusing water was my ultimate weapon. They even gave me a little medicine measuring cup, and tried to make me drink a sip an hour. But I couldn’t do it. I just couldn’t.

‘It will make you fat … don’t do it … they’re trying to trick you.’

I stayed there for a week with a drip in my arm. Then I was transferred to a specialized eating disorders unit for adolescents.

I remember being so scared while driving to the unit, but I didn’t cry. I didn’t have the strength to cry.

At the unit I joined around fifteen other young people from all over the country, all of whom were also in-patients. I tried to think about it as like the first day of a new school term. The
difference was that this time I didn’t know how long the term would be. Would I be there for weeks, months or years?

Going into hospital as an in-patient, although it was such a gruelling experience, helped me to break this defensive anorexic shell and re-emerge as a more confident person – to realize
that I am who I am, and I don’t have to compare myself with anyone.

I was admitted on Tuesday 17 July 2007 and I was there for seven months. This is the diary that I wrote, starting in August.

THE DIARY

Thursday 9 August 2007 to

Thursday 14 February 2008

Thursday 9 August

Weighing today. I really hate it. I just get so anxious. Have I put on weight? Have I lost weight?

In the past I have usually had about two good weeks followed by three or four bad days. This pattern has almost become a habit, but where have the bad days gone? Shouldn’t they have come
by now? I suppose I might be getting better! But how come? I’m not ready to get better. I still need to get thin. I can’t accept this, I can’t. The voice told me, and planned that
I wasn’t going to eat. It told me that if I put on weight, that could be my excuse to starve myself again. It told me not to worry if I had put on weight this time, because I will soon be
able to lose it again. It told me – so I have to believe it.

I went down, undressed, got on the scales and waited for the three numbers to come up. Yes, I had only put on a tiny amount, but it felt enough to blame myself for.

Breakfast was put in front of me.

‘No, don’t give in, you mustn’t. Do NOT put it in your mouth.’

I kept telling myself this over and over again. Then I figured there was no point in not eating but still drinking, it didn’t have enough impact for me, I had to not drink either. I was so
tempted the whole time, but I just kept saying to myself that it was for the best.

For the morning activity someone came in to teach us drama. But to be honest I wasn’t really concentrating, I was preoccupied with thinking about food and water.

Snacks.
²
Resisting my snacks felt so good, because they looked really nice. I pulled them closer to myself to make it look like I was trying, but I
wasn’t going to have any.

At lunch I got to the stage of cutting the smallest piece of broccoli off. I got it halfway to my mouth, but then stopped …

‘DON’T GIVE IN!’
it shouted at me.

I had a core team
³
meeting today. My key worker
⁴
brought up my eating today, and asked what was going on. God, I
really wish she hadn’t. I just want to forget about it and get out of here. When they asked me how they could help me, I just didn’t know. I have wound myself up so deeply. I have dug
such a big hole and there doesn’t seem to be a ladder around to get myself out, and I don’t really want to find that ladder. I’d planned to gain some self-confidence today through
not eating, but now anorexia had taken over, and I wasn’t in control any more. It isn’t up to me, I just have to obey my illness.

I only managed a few sips of water at afternoon snacks. I was feeling so trapped. Anorexia had taken control, and I didn’t know how to get out. I was so hungry, but it just kept telling
me:

‘This is a good thing. Keep going. Never give in. Hunger is your friend; it means that you are losing weight.’

It took a lot of encouragement from staff just to make me take those few sips. Afterwards I felt terrible. Everything had just become out of proportion.

Afterwards, I had a meeting with two senior members of staff. They explained very bluntly that they would have to pass a tube
⁵
if I carried on not eating or
drinking. This put me in such a big mess, I was so confused about what to do, I had so many thoughts and feelings:

‘You want the tube because it gets the message across, it means you are ill.’

‘What? … No you don’t, it’s painful and unnecessary, you don’t need to go down that road.’

‘Just eat, Constance, you can do this, you are hungry and thirsty.’

All these thoughts were running through my head and I just didn’t know which one to choose. I had already taken the decision to let anorexia take control, and that clearly was the wrong
decision, but then again, it was making me thin so that is the best thing that has ever happened to me.

In my core team they decided to let me have a phone call with a friend, but I couldn’t get through, so I had to leave a message. I just said that it would be great to talk to her and catch
up if she wanted to give me a call back. I was quite nervous, because part of me was really ashamed of being in hospital and I didn’t want my friends to feel burdened with my feelings.

I only managed six sips of water at tea. By now I was feeling really weak when I stood up and I really wanted to give in, but I knew that I couldn’t. I felt guilty too, because the staff
were giving me so much support, and were really encouraging me, and I could see how it was affecting the rest of the young people.