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Life With an Eating Disorder

"I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror..."

By Tracey EvansPublished 6 years ago 5 min read
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Photo by Mervyn Chan

I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror, teary and red-eyed. The feeling of satisfaction having again purged my body of food over-rides the shock of my appearance. My stomach hurts from the forcefulness of the vomiting, I flush the toilet several times and spray deodorant to mask the smell. I then return to my office desk feeling slimmer and more in control. Of course, I am completely in control.

Later the hunger begins to creep back in. I purchase sandwiches, crisps and chocolate, I demolish it all in one sitting. I don’t taste the food, I don’t savour it, I am like a machine, the continuous input of food into my mouth until my insides feel like they will burst. I do not stop until all of the food is gone, I cannot possibly leave any food behind. The pain of my stretched stomach tells me what I need to do next. I feel like a giant being; I am fat, gross and completely unable to focus on my work. I have an over-powering need to purge and detoxify my body, rid myself of this contamination. I need to regain control.

I make my usual return journey to the toilets and clear every last content possible from my stomach, my fingers reach deep into the throat further compounding the existing scarring on my hands from the abrasiveness of my teeth on my skin. My throat is sore, my head hurts, my stomach hurts, but I feel cleansed and ready to return to my work. I feel lighter, I feel like a better person than I was ten minutes ago. Of course, I am completely in control.

I didn’t always demolish copious amounts of food and then purge, in fact, the opposite is true. I starved my body, I exercised constantly and I lived off cold baked beans and coffee. I lost weight and I received compliments, lots of compliments and I felt good. I no longer felt like a giant being, huge, over-bearing and in the way. I was gradually starting to disappear; I liked that sense of fading into the background. The stomach pain from emptiness at times was excruciating but a reminder that I was smaller, “more beautiful,” more acceptable and more in control of my life. The truth was, on reflection, I was not really overweight in the first instance, but I felt it. When I looked in the mirror, all I saw was a mass of flesh and lots of fatty body parts.

I remember the first time my eating behaviours changed from starvation alone and involved purging. I was at a family party and I was really hungry, so I ate some food (home-made Scotch eggs to be precise). The moment I had done so, I felt guilt and shame. My stomach was so uncomfortable that in truth I felt like was going to be sick. It turned out I wasn’t naturally about to vomit, so I helped myself along. How did I even know this was a thing? I didn’t; it was a natural response. The immediate sense of relief was overwhelming and from there on in, I used purging as a method of controlling my weight.

People frequently commented on the amount of food that I consumed and yet I was so tiny, maybe they knew the truth? It shamed me every time comments were made and I would pass it off with remarks such as “I exercise, so I can eat as I please.” This gave me the scope to continue with these behaviours. I was not tiny, I always had a bit more weight I could lose, a bit more toning that could be done and so the cycle continued for years.

At some point, a friend became concerned and insisted that I went to the Doctor’s. I did and he checked my body mass index (BMI). The Doctor told me that I was within range and that I could afford to lose more weight. This was like a double-edged sword: on the one hand, I thought he was telling me that I was fat and on the other hand I had the green light to continue down this path of self-destruction.

In my case, an eating disorder was representative of dysfunction at an emotional level and warped thought processes. This type of behaviour made me believe that I was actually in control of my life, in reality, the opposite was true. My life revolved around food, whether that was consuming bounteous amounts of food and purging or starving my body. Both left me feeling weak, tired and mentally exhausted. I could not engage in normal activities without pre-planning, how could I possibly go for a meal with friends, what if the toilets were busy or people would hear me vomiting? The never-ending “thinking” and planning around eating was completely exhausting and I often would just sleep, for long periods of time. This perpetual cycle needed to be broken and I needed to engage in a healthy relationship with food.

The process of change is not easy, but it is essential to overcome the entrapments of food disorders. Therapy, for me, cognitive behavioural therapy, was the key. Identifying trigger foods, re-labelling foods rather than my usual “good” or “bad” types and learning new behaviours was instrumental in the healing process. Implementing these new strategies is a journey in itself, it is not a quick journey - what are learnt behaviours from years of reinforcement need to be replaced with new behaviours. Now, I would be lying if I said my relationship with food is 100% “normal” that is not completely true and I do at times regress, the difference now is that I understand this fragile balance. Other coping strategies for life are employed, I changed my focus and became educated, I have just completed a PhD and look forward to a career in medical research. I do not punish myself if I can’t go for a workout and I learnt to love my body and my soul again.

Life can be punishing and our experiences, certainly for me during childhood, alter our emotional state such that we employ alternative life-coping-mechanisms. The key is to start to love ourselves again, nurture and be kind to our bodies. Once the ropes that tie us to an eating disorder are loosened, life can be lived and joy can be had.

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About the Creator

Tracey Evans

A medical researcher with a passion for reading and writing.

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