A year today, I started my recovery Journey. At this point I do not think I was underweight, or if I was it was very borderline. That’s because you don’t have to be underweight to have an eating disorder and you don’t have to be underweight to recover.
I have relapsed, ended up “significantly undwerweight” as my triggering doctor mentioned, that day when I entered the room, alone, wanting to recovery but not wanting to recover. I said I ate normally but that was a lie. That was september 1st 2013. I started recovering before-hand. A year ago today.
After a few long talks with my mentor I didn’t want to stay sick. I didn’t want food to be such the controlling power it had become over the past 5 years. I chose to try and fight against it. Actually make an effort to eat “Normally” At first I did lose a little more weight, then I maintained. I was only eating 1200 calories, but it was a good start. I started to increase my calories, knowing I needed to gain weight. 2000-2500. I tried to eat healthily. It was all good. Actually recovery was quite fun.
That morning… that dreadful morning in the summer holidays when I had stepped on the scales and gained 1/2lb. YES 1/2LB So I started restricting again, 900-1200 calories if I remember rightly. I lost 2lb in 3 days…. Don’t ask me how. On Holiday straight after I had a raging appittie and ate 4000+ calories most day, I am sure of it. Although it was all unknown and therefor could not count. I gained 3lb that week. That’s when the relapse really started.
I was underweight already but 3lb. It was too much! That was when I started restricting to a MAXIMUM of 900 calories a day. I tried to fight it. Part of me still wanted to get better. I tried to challenge myself, I just felt so awful. I thre food in the bin, pretended I had eaten it. I remember once I had awful knee pain and wouldn’t take ibuprofen. Do you know why?
Because of 0.5 calories
Now that’s just a little extreme right? I had to be empty, I barley at any of dinner with my family, but just enough to keep them unsuspecting. As the weight dropped off the fights started. I found it hugely unfair that my brothers didn’t have to eat dinner but I did? It wasn’t even like I had much of an appitite by that point, I could only eat a few mouthfulls and I felt sick to my stomach. It was awful.
As I had said previously, I was trying to fight it, it was just so hard. That was when I started to binge and oh god did that make me feel awful. See I have this phobia of throwing up and I had binged 4 times within a week. That sunday evening I couldn’t sleep. I felt so sick, I knew it was because of the food. I remember spending nights purposfully keeping the window open, leaving off the duvet, doing endless sit-ups and lunges. Anything to burn off all that fat. Discretly burn off that fat, without my parents knowing.
I remember when my form tutor said “It’s because you are slim.” SLIM! SLIM! That wasn’t good enough for me. When a class mate said “Your so incredibly skinny.” That was good enough for me. “Skinny. Skinny.” Yes I liked that, being refered to as skinny.
So at some stage picked myself back up, I got my dad to make me breakfast to make sure I ate it. 2 slices of toast. 1 Jam. (NO BUTTER OR SPREAD) 1 Marmite (NO BUTTER OR SPREAD). That was when I really started to get better and also when recovery turned into some sort of living hell at times. When I realsed how triggering the world truly is.
Not many people knew about my eating disorder, at first. Eventually I learnt to become more open about it. Which is why I started blogging. I want to raise awareness and show people that they are not alone in this.
The weight gain stage is terrifying, stepping on the scales is terrifing. Even today. There are some days I can’t bring myself to eat cake, some days I can’t bring myself to eat lunch, or dinner. Some days I majorly overeat. (Like today) But I can honestly say things get better. I am in a better position both mentally and phsycially than I was this time last year. I’m happier, I can walk up the stairs without feeling like I’m about to have a heart attack and I actually enjoy life; even though most of it is spent in my room atm cause exams and shiz.
I weighed in at 9st this morning. I still feel fat, I still feel like it’s too much and I havn’t come to accpet my body fully yet but I am getting there and I am working towards it. I give myself days where I don’t count calories atall. (Weekends) and only rough estimate some of the time. Now I am trying to learn to listen to my body. It’s hard, but in the end I am sure that it will be worth it.
The last year has been a whirlwind full of emotions but if there is one thing I would like to end this on, it’s that:
Recovery is worth it.
Recovery Snaps 🙂