07/04/1994 - my date of birth, making me 18 years old. 18 years of fun happy memories. 18 years of girly innocence, from pink fluffy teddy bears, to family holidays to Spain, New Zealand, school ski trips to Austria, Holy Rood junior School to St Joan of Arc secondary School, Employed as a swimming teacher assistant at 15 blah blah blah.....
No. as much as i wish that was the case, my life has not been an easy journey so far. So far.... fun, adventure, hurt, pain, loss, addiction.......Mental Illness.
Aged 15. 2009. My life, my existence, my hope, was taken from me. Stolen. Destroying me, Heather, in the process.
It is impossible to sum up the last three years of my life, so I'm gonna skip events, brush over details and refuse to expose myself fully... but here goes a 1054 word overview, originally written to be read at a therapy group for sufferers just like myself...
My story starts like any others, with an incredible happy
childhood, plenty of friends, and only the odd little problem to complain
about, that looking back now proves to be completely insignificant.
I loved my school; I loved my friends and family to pieces. I tried hard at
school, yet had a good social life also.
It got to year 10 and the pressure of GCSEs begun. At the start I welcomed it
with open arms. I was excited to get started and wanted the challenge. But started getting too much work and I felt
the burdened of potential failure as I aimed for the unreachable perfection.
We had a family holiday booked for the summer of 2009, to Cyprus. So, being a
classic body conscious 15 year old girl, I wanted to lose a little weight, and
tone up. I gave myself a goal of ½ stone. I wasn’t over weight, yet that amount
was not damaging to the size I was. However, escalation took this to another
level, and the weight fell off uncontrollably. I returned home after out holiday miserable,
withdrawn, terrified and confused. On the plane out to Cyprus, my clothes all
fit, on the plane back, the drowned me. This shocks me now, that in two weeks I
managed to damage myself so much.
So the combination of a holiday and exams, to most people is simple and pretty
manageable, yet for me, and I predict some of you, was and is a disaster zone.
I began to become very withdrawn, dedicating ALL my time to my school work, I
never went out, and I made myself earn food, by having it as a reward after
completing my work.
This ‘Reward’ became less and less, getting to the point where dinner was my
only meal of the day, with no pudding. Throughout the day I had a bowl of
salad, an apple and diet coke, and a coffee if I felt really light headed.
Unintentionally I was torturing my parents and my sister; the three people that
mean the world to me and love me so much, felt totally helpless as I fought to
push them away.
I was lost. Inside I was so alone, desperate for someone to help me, but on the
outside, I rejected all form of love and care.
As you can see, the person I was previous to all of this, disappeared in a
matter of months. I wasn’t bubbly, I felt guilty even to smile. I went weeks
without talking to anyone at school. I spent my day at school and in bed. I had
no energy for anything else. Some days I couldn’t manage to even get out of
bed.
I cried myself to sleep every night. I felt drowned in my clothes and smothered
by a huge heavy black cloud inside me, that I just couldn’t find a way to fight
through it. So I allowed it to continue.
I was gone, and some monster had crept its way into my head and was dictating
my life, belittling me, encouraging me to eventually kill myself. I was
diagnosed with depression, and am still on medication now.
My parents were (understandably) terrified, so convinced me to go to the
doctors. My mum took me, but would have gone alone if I continued to refuse.
I was referred to CAHMS and begun to see Tina Fisher in October 2009.
I became an obsessive calorie counter and kept food diaries exact to the gram.
Whilst I write this, it breaks my heart and I have tears in my eyes. I can’t
believe this has happened to me. It feels like I’m telling you a friends
experience, not my own. But that proves how much anorexia changes who you are.
It steals your identity.
I’m not 100% better now, but I doubt I ever will be. BUT I REFUSE to let it
ever steal me again.
Right now I am the happiest I have ever been, yet I’m sitting my A levels
(qualifications that will determine my future, but I’m coping) and it is stressing
me out so much, but I’m not taking it out on my food! Although I’ve lost
friends along the way, the true ones have stayed by me, and are totally
incredible. My boyfriend only knows of my depression, allowing me to eat
totally normal with him. Maybe one day I’ll tell him, but to be honest,
anorexia’s my past, and that’s where it is going to stay. I can smile, and laugh and go out for meals
with the ability to control my anxiety and enjoy life exactly the way it should
be.
I attended a Family Therapy Group with several other girls.
We were all at different stages of recovery and ranged from 14-21.
The overall experience was very beneficial; together we compared to pros and
cons of the illness, figuring that we had no choice but to fight. It showed me
exactly where I was in my recovery, what parts of my illness I needed to
challenge and it taught me to communicate to my parents in ways I’d previously
been unable to, allowing them to understand more about what was going on in my
head and the battle that they couldn’t do anything about, but take into
consideration when times at home became more of a challenge.
I learnt to distinguish between my irrational thoughts and fears and my own,
normal feelings.
My sister, who I’d been pushing away, learnt more of the illness and that I
didn’t mean to hurt her. For my dad, talking to other parents increased his
understanding, and I believe he became a little more patient with me following
these sessions.
I realised I wasn’t wasting peoples time and that I deserved to get better,
just like every one of you do!
I believe that anorexia and any other related illnesses are just challenges
thrown at us and that in the long term, makes us better people, able to
appreciate things so much more and able to appreciate people so much more,
however everything feels totally pointless at the time, keep fighting!
Not every day is easy, and I continue to need medical support, but my life is
full of colour again. And I can’t describe to you how good freedom feels.
I sit writing this today, still feeling afraid, yet hopefully for the future that at one point, i may not have had. I am excited for the day when i like myself for who i am and i don't look in the mirror and wish i was slimmer and boney and...well.... lonely, miserable, cold and all the other negatives that anorexia make me forget, associated with the body that it makes me believe i should have.
I AM curvy, i AM a foody(and i shouldn't be ashamed), I AM worth peoples time and I AM a good person.... and i should be proud... one day, very soon i am going to love what i see in the mirror.
