Afternoon all,
I'm going to write about something serious. Something that has had a significant impact on my life. Something that still scares me today even though I'm progressing and looking forward to the future.
That something is 'Disordered Eating'.
You may well be thinking "Oh she means Eating Disorder". Sorry but no, I mean Disordered Eating. I never heard of the term until 2013 when I was diagnosed with this. Before I get in too in depth, let me back track a little.
Growing up, I always loved food. Especially when I was a teenager, I could eat and eat and eat. My friends and I came to the decision that I had an 'inner fat man' called Brian - so many jokes, we would laugh til we couldn't breathe! However I maintained a healthy weight by being active and eating healthy meals (very important in life), being 5"6, I would be around 130-132 pounds (recommended weight 125-155 pounds).
My life was pretty much going according to plan, odd hiccup here and there. Received an offer to study at university and I couldn't be happier. I enjoyed first year and passed my exams ready to knuckle-down for second year. Back home for the summer, I distinctly waking up one morning and having the thought "Food is disgusting". No idea where that thought came from, wasn't like me to think that! But as I went on with my daily life, the foods I would normally happily chow down didn't seem to have the same satisfaction. I thought "I'm getting older, maybe my tastebuds are changing" and didn't give it much thought after that. It was only when a few weeks later whilst on a family holiday, sitting down with my family for lunch I was presented with my meal and a wave of nausea came over me, I realised this really wasn't normal for me. During that holiday, I found it difficult to eat a meal or find food that didn't repulse me. I ended up snacking throughout the day on much smaller portions instead of having a structured meal plan - this did not help my diabetes (I inject when I eat so had to inject so many times!).
Time passed and I was moving into my second year house with my flatmates ready to start the academic year. My eating habits hadn't improved, I was still constantly snacking and whenever I tried to have a "normal" meal, I'd end up leaving most of it! Soon enough, by late October, I started to feel really sick on a daily basis and lack energy (a real struggle where I studied as campus was perched on a steep hill). I'd begin to miss the odd lecture here and there and just catch up whenever I could, but it wasn't just uni I missed, I began to avoid social activities because the pain in my stomach was too much.
Weeks flew by and I started to spend a lot of time in my room curled up on my bed, writhing in pain. I would sleep for a couple of hours, lie awake in pain, sleep for a couple of hours, lie awake in pain... a vicious cycle. Whenever I tried to eat, the pain would be too much that I'd stop. The less I ate, the less pain. A very bad idea.
Christmas soon came around and I could tell my mum knew something was up. I had lost weight and I wasn't enjoying any of the food provided or generally being involved in social situations. I told her it was just a bug and it'd pass (I'm a stubborn person who tries to do everything on her own).
Back at uni, I had passed my exams but after an insane amount of revision. Pretty much 3 months worth of lectures in a week. Stressed wasn't the word.
By February, I had lost a lot of weight. Being a healthy size 10, I dropped to a size 6 and was surviving on 300 calories a day. My life had turned upside down. Spent my days in bed or lying in a bath to try and keep myself warm. Barely went to uni, hardly saw my friends and it was upsetting.
Mum came to visit me before we broke up for the spring holiday. I literally put all my effort into getting dressed and walking down the stairs to greet my mum at the door. As soon as she saw me, I noticed the shock in her eyes. I opened my arms for a hug but I couldn't properly hug her, my skin and bones felt so fragile it would feel horrible to be touched.
Back home, the pain was indescribable. I tried to live what would have been my normal life and my mum wanted to help. We figured a nice walk in the mornings would help. I could barely walk past the driveway. Mid-walk I would crumple into a heap, crying in pain and severely out of breath. The frustration this caused my family broke my heart. I didn't know what to tell them, I didn't know what was wrong with me. We went to our doctors but didn't get a solid answer so we visited our friend, a private GP. He lived back in our home county - we had moved from Buckinghamshire to Gloucestershire during the summer of 2012 to a small village, closer to my dad's work.
The appointment felt like torture, trying to figure out what was wrong, I could barely talk I was so deprived of energy when I was asked "How do you feel towards food?". I broke down. I admitted the thought of food repulsed me to the extremes. He performed a blood test but was unsuccessful the first time as my veins had shrunk so much, as soon as the needle hit the vessel, it burst. This was due to lack of nutrition. After the appointment, I was in a state of shock. He diagnosed me with Anorexia. But I was confused also. I thought Anorexia was an eating disorder where the person would deliberately keep their body as low as possible. I wanted to eat. I really wanted to eat but I just physically couldn't!
Home again, I was ordered to bed rest - the doctor said I shouldn't even be walking 10 feet let alone going for a daily walk - and to start attending an 'Eating Disorders Clinic'. My world was blown apart from that day. I had to stay out of uni (luckily, I had enough marks to scrape 2nd year without doing my summer exams), I had no social life, my diabetes was severely messed up, I looked like a skeleton and I hated life. Depression overtook me.
Never in my life had I thought I would suffer from a mental health condition. Always described as a friendly, bubbly girl - quite the contrast at that point - I thought it couldn't happen to me.
Even though these problems developed over a 6 months, it happened all so quickly.
My depression got so bad, I started to have dark thoughts. Horrible thoughts. If I saw them through, I wouldn't be here today.
Depression on its own is an unusual thing. If you haven't suffered it - I hope to God you never will - it's difficult to understand. The best way I can try to describe it is your mind and body is no longer yours. Its like this dark cloaked figure has taken over you and you can't escape. My family couldn't recognise me any more but they were so unbelievably supportive. Without them, I don't know what would have happened. The immense struggle they must have suffered, I can't get my head around it.
I remember I was sat in the bath, crying my eyes out and I looked up to see my mum standing in her bedroom just looking at me with tears streaming down her face. Times like that, I knew I had to get better, my mum needed in me in so many ways. I couldn't let her down.
My appointments soon came round with the Eating Disorders Specialists. Most traumatic appointment of my life - even worse than being diagnosed with diabetes. I tried my best to explain that I really wanted to eat food and be "normal Ellie", I wasn't trying to keep my weight down, my skeletal figure was not what I wanted - I just physically couldn't eat. A small bite would cause unbelievable pain. They came to the conclusion 'Disordered Eating'.
I won't go into all the detail (this post is already wayyy too long!). Long story short, I had to learn to eat again. A long and painful process but it was the only way. It seemed like I had to eat all day long, 3 grapes would take me an hour. I know it sounds like I'm being over-dramatic but its so hard to describe what it was like. We had to "train my brain" into thinking food was good. With all the pains, I had subconsciously associated food with pain. If I saw food, my face would turn white. Being pushed around the supermarket - I couldn't walk I was so fragile - I would burst into tears and get the shakes from looking at all the food. This was the beginning of my debilitating anxiety.
From the fear of food, anxiety consumed me. I developed "ticks" to try and control myself. I would scratch my head/face and tap my foot - didn't even realise I was doing it! The next stage was panic attacks. My god, that was an experience and a half! My panic attacks were so bad, I had to be hospitalised on several occasions. They say 100 beats per minute is the normal heart rate. Mine would reach over 250. My anxiety had to be controlled with a concoction of drugs. Life was a real blur. When I had a mild panic attack (I say mild, it was still extreme), the only way I could become relatively calm - enough to put my mind into a sort of unconscious state - was to go for a drive. Bless my parents would drive for a good couple of hours in the middle of the night to help me. Can't thank them enough. They went above and beyond.
Months passed and I was slowly able to eat toddler sized portions. I was able to go for a five minute walk. I was able to laugh at my dad's ridiculous jokes. But I was no way near ready. After many conversations with my family, doctors and my professors, we decided the best option was to drop-out of university. A heart wrenching decision but one that I had to make, my life literally depended on it. I took the decision hard. From a young age, my life goal was to graduate from university. I don't know why it was so important to me, it just was. To this day I still get upset about leaving university. You may think "why not apply again?" - Things are complicated and taking 3 years out to study just wouldn't be the best option. If I win the lottery and my health is okay, then yes, I will do.
My brother's graduation soon came around, so determined to be there for him and the family but it wasn't to be. I suffered a major panic attack, trouble was, we drove
3 hours to Exeter and stayed in a hotel, this made things a lot worse. It was 11pm and my parents didn't know what to do, they were deciding who would stay with my brother and who would take me home. This tore me apart, seeing my parents make a decision like that was awful. I couldn't let that happen, it may be the only graduation they get to go to. We decided to go home, the parents get a few hours sleep and then make their way back to my brother. I was happy they went. Set myself up with happy Disney films and our neighbour came to check on me.
A year later, I was up to 100 pounds and could function on a small scale. Got a part-time job filing and things were looking a little brighter. Started to enjoy life a little more. Few months after that, I actually went on a date! February 2014, 115 pounds, offered a job and met the love of my life. My demons have not totally disappeared. I'm no longer on depression medication which is good but my anxiety can be difficult. I have methods to help ease it but I its something that'll stick with me from now on. My diabetes is better too after many dramatic changes (another health blip early 2015- food intolerances! That'll be another post ;) ).
Wow. Felt quite relieving writing that. Some form of release!
There is so much I wanted to say and put across to whoever reads this - I have no idea even if any of the points I wanted make got through. Probably a big ramble!
I guess I wanted to say - to put it in a neat little box - please don't bottle up your feelings. I had no idea the power of talking things through could have. It saved my life! No joke.
A lot of people don't understand mental health, I used to be one of them. I used to think people with depression are just over exaggerating, just enjoy life. Its not that simple. My whole perception of mental health has changed (for the better!).
If you are struggling with anything, seek help. No matter what it is. Remember, you are not alone.
I am so lucky to have parents like mine. I can't even put into words how much they mean to me. I love them immensely.
xxx
