When my eating disorder was at it its worst, food had to be 'earned' - a planned transaction with more negatives than positives. If I wanted a cookie for lunch, I would skip breakfast. When going out for dinner, I ate little in the day. I believed that too much food equalled (instant) weight gain and I was obsessed with what I put inside my body. Always prepared by me, low in sugar to prevent cellulite and on my 'safe' list of ingredients according to the #CleanEating trend.
Unlike other illnesses, which by no means are any easier to overcome, living with an eating disorder is that much harder because we need food to live. I had to get comfortable with a way of eating or else I would, without sounding morbid, no longer exist. Therefore, to try and recover is to consciously eat more and un-write a list of 'safe' foods that the eating disorder permitted. From cheese and chocolate to alcohol and coffee (based on nothing at all - no intolerance or allergy - purely fear). It is incredibly difficult. At the age of 27, I am basically relearning how to eat (excluding etiquette).
It took me until October 2020, eight years of food rules and 14 months of therapy, to get to a place of enjoyment. I used to find it unfathomable to hear my therapist tell me that eating more is not just about weight gain, which I had to do anyway - but that food would be converted into energy; I would gain life. To pursuit hobbies and passions, socialise without being distracted by what to eat for dinner and ultimately find enjoyment in living. I may have sniggered at the time, thinking what a cliché and easier said than done, but of course she was right.
Who knew that satisfying hunger pangs, listening to emotional or spontaneous cravings or simply needing a boost of energy actually satisfied you? Personally, it means I no longer obsess over what to eat and drink 247 - and what the eating disorder brainwashed me to see as 'one-off treats' are now accessible. Surprisingly (genuinely, it surprised me) I don’t want to binge on them all day everyday (a pre-recovery fear) because I can have them when I want and choose to.
I never thought that I would progress to this mindset. For the first time in a long while I enjoy foods I previously avoided and don't feel regret if a recipe doesn't go to plan (what I often determined a 'waste' if my one 'treat' meal didn't taste as good as I hoped). No longer at war with food but reaping the benefits of energy and understand, in a wider context, that it is mostly fuel.
*I re-read this in May 2022 and am humbled by my optimism (and surprised at my smug outlook).
Although my 2020-self did break through some barriers, I am still challenged by similar worries and the eating disorder voice is ever-present. It resurfaces when I am stressed, lonely, overwhelmed or feel unproductive. When business makes me feel lost, if life feels uncertain, I remember old behaviour traits and my body often becomes the scapegoat of these emotions. Although I know better, my brain tells me otherwise - and I slip up, revert back.
I really do believe in the energy of food but also don't want to paint a picture of happiness when it is not always this. Nor do I want to sound like other mental health recoverers I see on Instagram - and really admire - promising that "recovery is worth it", "better days are coming", "life is better without the eating disorder" and "keep persevering." Because I am not there yet (and am jealous, slightly bitter, about it). I understand that all of this is probably true but alluding to the future is not now and sometimes I roll my eyes and want to explain that right now I can only listen to the eating disorder to prevent me from feeling any more sick with fear and anxiety; worried that body change does make me less attractive and, with nobody to reassure myself, this belief goes.
What I am trying to say is, I still sometimes skip lunch because I am overwhelmed with uncomfortable emotions. It is easier to punish my body than ignore the eating disorder and take a risk to see if it pays off. Being completely honest, I know all too well that, as much as I hate to say it, I feel 'better' when I shrink myself and feel smaller. Probably a universal thought, I am definitely not alone in thinking this - but then I don't think that makes the argument any stronger. If anything, it is more worrying. This is not the mindset I want - I want a bigger, fuller, more fulfilling life - it just might take longer than anticipated.
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