Mealtimes and Milestones (3 page)

My friend rang me back after tea. It was really good to speak to her and just to hear a friend’s voice. For thirteen minutes I felt healthy, and that I could recover. It gave me real
motivation – but just as quickly as the motivation came, it went when she hung up the phone.

I had a session with my key worker this evening, and I shared some things which were really close to me. I just don’t see the point of living any more. I feel worthless. I’m not any
good at anything. I find it so hard to want to put anything inside me like food and water because I am no good. I don’t deserve it. I’m nothing, so it is easier and better to have
nothing inside me. My key worker asked me to think of three good things about me, but I can’t think of any.

I had the same conversation with my mum in my phone call.
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She said that she had quite broad shoulders, but I think that it was hard for her to hear that
her daughter just wants to die. So much of this illness is behind closed doors. I bet most people can’t imagine what it is like to feel this way. Imagine if my friends at school knew the real
truth – that their friend is in a state of mind where she can’t see a way out. The voice keeps telling me that death is the only option. I have reached rock bottom, and I can’t
see any hope. I am super-glued into a hole.

I was obviously quite distressed about my phone call, so it didn’t help that I had to go straight into evening snacks afterwards. I walked into the dining room and just burst into tears. I
didn’t know how to cope. When I’m upset or confused my first combat reaction is just to starve myself.

I’m going to bed early so I can just get to sleep and forget the day, and drift away. If only it could be a reality.

Friday 10 August

I woke up this morning in a new frame of mind. I was going to do this, beat anorexia and not have a tube. This unfortunately went as soon as breakfast was put in front of
me. My confidence and strong will were shattered once again by anorexia. It had blown things totally out of proportion. I had a few sips but this seemed like a gallon of water. I guess this is how
it takes control and is so deadly because it makes you believe that you are having more than you actually are.

During team games my key worker called me inside. I knew from the minute she called my name that it was either about having a naso-gastric tube inserted now, or discussing when it would be put
in. She had spoken to my parents, and they had given permission for a tube to be passed. I am so cross because I don’t want to live any more, I just want to starve myself to death, I
don’t see why I am still here. It would be better if I wasn’t here because I am such a burden on everyone.

‘You’re nothing, a total waste of space.’

What is the point of my life any more?

She had also spoken to the nurses and they had taken the decision to pass a tube at 10.45 a.m., unless I could eat all of my morning snacks.

I burst into tears again at snacks. My key worker walked down the hall with me into the dining room and sat down next to me. Even more thoughts were running through my head – not running,
these were sprinting. I wanted the tube, I didn’t want the tube, eat – I was starving – don’t you just want to die, don’t give in and end your life, you are never
going to recover, but they won’t let you do that. HELP!! . . .

When 10.45 a.m. came, I had managed a bite of my snacks. The nurse then walked in, and because I had made a start the decision was made to let me have until 11 a.m., but then they would tube me.
I just cried and cried. I felt like all the emotions that I had felt over the last few days were just coming up in buckets and buckets of tears. I was totally helpless, I couldn’t help
myself, and I couldn’t accept help – anorexia wouldn’t let me. They gave me the last option which was to drink my snack in Enlive,
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but I
just couldn’t . . .

They basically had to drag me out of the dining room. I had to sit down on the treatment room bed. This was it. I was having the thing I least wanted, but also what my anorexia most wished
for.

One member of staff took the tube and measured it against my body to see roughly where my stomach was. While my key worker held my hand, she told me that she would push it up my nose, and then
it would go down the back of my throat and then into my stomach. She moved the tube nearer and nearer my nose. I moved away, so she had to support my head. I was crying and groaning, but through my
tears I begged her not to do it. ‘Let me die, I’m worthless.’ This wasn’t my anorexia saying this, though . . . this was me now.

I thought about what my friends would be doing at that moment. Having fun at school, laughing with friends, enjoying life – and here I was, having a tube inserted into my stomach.

To make it smoother going down they suggest that you take a gulp of water, so when it goes down the water opens up the passages. I didn’t want to have it, but I had it anyway just to try
and make it more comfortable. She pushed the tube up my nose and then said the word ‘gulp’. I swallowed the water and the stiff tube went down with it. It was awful. For one thing, I
didn’t want to live, and two, it was like I could actually feel the tube going down inside me and moving. She then taped the rest to the side of my face and round the back of my ear.

It was then time for my first feed via an NG tube. They syringed up the Enlive, attached it to my tube and then pushed it down. I could actually feel my stomach filling up but nothing was
entering my mouth. I felt really light-headed and I vomited. They got me to do breathing exercises to try to calm me down. It helped a bit but I still hated the sensation, and I wondered how long I
would have to go through this for.

I ate some lunch, but it was really uncomfortable with the tube in my throat. It feels like when you don’t chew a large piece of food enough, and you can feel it go down your throat. You
keep swallowing and eventually it moves down and you can’t feel it any more, but the tube doesn’t move, and it stays there.

In Friday Group
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one of the things talked about was the low mood, which was partly because of people not eating. I feel like all the young people are really
mad with me, and that I have caused the entire low mood. One of the young people actually directed a question at me.

‘I wonder how it feels for Constance hearing this?’

There was a long silence where I wondered whether to respond.

‘Yeah, it is quite hard, because when people talk about the non-eating, that is basically me, so I just feel like I take all of the responsibility, and I’m so sorry that I have
affected you all so much.’

There was another long silence, then another young person responded.

‘It’s just hard when other people don’t eat, because none of us want to, but sometimes you just have to.’

The conversation then moved on. I just feel so guilty though. I don’t want to affect other people, but I also don’t want to eat.

For the rest of the day I just had to keep thinking that the more I ate normally the less I had to have through my tube. It was such a struggle, with every snack and every meal. One of the staff
members was lovely and offered loads of support as she could see that I was finding it really hard. She asked me why, but I just kept crying and saying that I didn’t see why people were being
so supportive, when all I wanted to do was end my life. She kept reiterating that I DID deserve to live, and I DID deserve food, and I DID mean something to many people. I tried to believe this but
I just couldn’t, it was too hard, and a complete lie to me. It’s all a lie.

Saturday 11 August

My parents arrived at 10 a.m. for their visit today.
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I had to get my tube re-stuck on as the tape wasn’t sticky any more, so
they were waiting in reception for me. When I opened the door I found it really awkward. I knew that they were slightly anxious about seeing me in case I was angry with them for giving permission
to pass the NG tube. To be honest, I am a bit, but I was just so glad to see them. Whenever something painful has happened to me before Mum has always been there holding my hand, but this time she
hadn’t been there, which makes me feel even more lonely.

When I left them to go into morning snacks, instead of having a green snack, I changed it for a blue and a red;
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this was more manageable for me, because
it enabled me to have smaller mouthfuls. For me, it is more about the portion size, and not the calories, but while I have been here I seem to have developed an obsession with calories, because
here everything is so calorie controlled – it’s hard to avoid getting caught up in it. I guess I didn’t count them before because there wasn’t any real option at school to
know the calorific amount in the food; I just went on portion size, as that was much easier to reduce.

I’ve tried different methods to disguise food for myself while I’ve been in the unit, to try to make myself think I’m eating less than I am, so I won’t get distressed
about it. One thing I do is wrap food up in other types of food. I did this at snacks this morning. I put pieces of chocolate inside a dried apricot. I guess I was trying to trick my mind into
thinking I was having less than I actually was. I finished my snack, but my guilty feelings just became too great. I walked out of the dining room and shut myself in the toilet. I couldn’t
believe I had been so stupid as to give in.

‘You’re a failure. You’ve betrayed me.’

I didn’t deserve to eat food. So much for wanting to end my life; I had just got as far as possible away from doing that.

‘You stupid, stupid girl, you deserve to die, you’re nothing, nothing.’

The voice kept on and on at me.

I tried to compose myself as I went back to join my parents, but one of the nurses had seen that I had been crying and called me back and asked if I wanted to talk. We sat down, and I just felt
all of the emotions come back up again. I didn’t know what to do but cry. I possess so much self-hatred. I just want all these pressuring thoughts to disappear, and I want to be able to eat
some food, even a snack, without feeling the need to commit suicide afterwards. Is that really so much to ask for? My parents had seen me talking to the nurse so when I went back Mum opened her
arms out to me and gave me a big hug. I burst into tears again. I am fed up of this illness, I just want it to leave me alone, I want Mum to click her fingers and it all to go away, but it is never
going to be that simple, and the road of recovery that lies ahead of me is very long, very hard and very frightening if I choose to take it, and I am scared of embarking on it.

Mum and Dad left at 5.45 p.m I was incredibly sad that they were leaving but also glad because they are quite ‘lovey-dovey’ parents, and because I am so self-conscious about my body
I don’t really feel comfortable with hugs, so I always get cross, but I don’t feel strong enough to say that to them in case they become cross with me. I would rather have a swift exit
than a ten-minute goodbye. I want to exert independence, and I don’t appreciate that much affection, especially when I want to die anyway. I know I should be able to accept affection, but I
just find it too hard.

I ate about a third of my tea, but then I had to wait for my feed by tube, which just increased my anxieties. It was so much today, I was really down on calories. I cried the whole time that the
nurse was feeding me. I know that this isn’t what I want in my life. I just want to escape and never return.

I got a text from one of my friends tonight and it said:

I just found that so inspirational, and I was really proud to be friends with someone so supportive, and things like that give me glimmers of hope, which I really need
right now.

Sunday 12 August

I really wanted to go to church this morning. I just find it really helpful. It gives me an hour of peace. I find prayer very beneficial, and I believe that if you believe
enough, God will answer your prayers. I used to go to church a lot with my dad when I was younger, but then I stopped. But since I’ve been ill, I’ve been praying a lot more, before I go
to sleep.

You have to be up to date,
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though, to go to church, and that is what got me through breakfast. I just had to give myself a chance to show myself that I
did deserve to live. At the end of breakfast I still didn’t think that I deserved my life, but at least I had managed a meal.

One of the nurses came over and said that they were pleased that I had completed breakfast, and that church had motivated me, but they were concerned about how the rest of the day would turn
out, because to be up to date before church I actually only needed to eat breakfast because we would leave at 10 a.m.

She also wanted to talk to me about tomorrow’s trip to Willen Lake, one of the activity trips that take place in the summer holidays. You can do canoeing, low ropes, high ropes,
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orienteering, etc. I would be restricted anyway on some of the activities because of my tube. She also reminded me that the tube would only come out once I’d
been completely up to date for three whole days – they didn’t want to take it out and then have to put it back in because it’s quite an intrusive procedure.

She said that she would allow me to go to church though.

I did have mixed feelings about going to church with my tube because I was afraid people would stare at me. On one side I am very ashamed of having a tube because it shows that I have given up
the fight, but I’m also proud of it because it shows me that I am doing well at being the ‘best anorexic’. Although it was embarrassing I did wonder what people were thinking when
they saw me . . . and yes, people did stare.

When we got back for snacks, I felt an enormous amount of pressure because I wanted to try to prove to the staff that I did deserve to go to church. It was very hard as usual, but I did manage
it.