It's not a choice...

I can’t comment on all eating disorders as my experience only stems from Anorexia, but having been around those battling various different eating disorders, whilst at Orri I have witnessed two things they all share; resilience and immense strength. Everyday these qualities are demonstrated, and it’s in seeing others rise from such lows that gives me hope on my harder days.

I spend so much time berating myself for being ill, and how selfish I am for causing such pain to those I love the most. And there’s no going around it, eating disorders are incredibly selfish illnesses, and they cause seas of tears from those watching as their loved one presses the self-destruct button once again. But they are not choices. 

They are not choices. 

This is something I’ve battled with a lot recently as I’ve certainly felt like somehow mine was a choice; that somewhere along the line I made the wrong choice and it landed me in a mess that’s now far bigger than me. But… that’s not the case. I’m learning that eating disorders often come about to protect, and mine did just that. When nothing else felt safe, secure or dependable, anorexia did. The façade it portrays of being a ‘friend’ is what’s so alluring, then before you know it the talons are firmly dug in and there feels no way out.

Except… there is a way out. However, it involves going against every fibre of your body multiple times a day as you challenge each ingrained thought and behaviour. But doing so provokes the eating disorder to become louder and LOUDER as you do so. Why? Because eating disorders don’t want you to escape, they want you under their thumb forever, as ‘then you’ll feel in control’. 

Bullshit. Never have I felt more out of control than the past five years. Is control being locked in hospital? Not being allowed to return to university? Crying over a crumble? No. 

Eating disorders are the most corrupt, deceptive, and difficult illnesses to treat. You’re almost treating two separate people, the one that wants to get better, and the one that doesn’t. When it’s my illness reacting at Orri they say my ‘shutters come down’. And when they’re down it’s a different person sitting in front of them. As Paula said the other day, if she didn’t know I had this, she’d genuinely think I’d taken drugs as the glazed-over look in my eyes is so apparent. It’s scary that it makes me turn into someone I’m not; in fact, it’s the total antithesis of Mima. Mima cares about upsetting others, about trust, loyalty, laughter. Anorexia on the other hand doesn’t care at all, all ‘it’ cares about is reducing my life to something so lonely that it doesn’t feel worth living anymore. That’s the strength it has. 

Look at the immense support and kindness I have around me, yet still on days anorexia leaves me feeling totally alone, questioning if I can even go on. But whether I can or not can’t be a question, I HAVE to go on. Tonight I’m holding tightly onto what my dear friend at Orri wrote in a very special book she gave me for my birthday last week, “Not to spoil the ending for you, but… she was courageous and kept on fighting for the free and wonderful life that she deserved. Even on the hard days she remembered that the better ones were coming. And they did”. 

I have to keep going until those days are here.