I was around 15 when I first started to show signs of what I now know was anorexia. I'd always been stick-thin as a child, and when I hit puberty and started getting 'puppy fat', I panicked and decided I needed to diet. This was only confirmed to me by a school doctor, who told me during a medical that I needed to 'cut down on the biscuits and crisps'. What the doctor had neglected to note was that I had been preoccupied with my weight for a year or so, and was already cutting down on everything to an unhealthy extent. I had put on weight partly due to puberty, and also due to a thyroid condition that wasn't detected until later, but none of this was picked up on at the time.
After the doctor's comments, I felt fat, ugly and greedy. I responded to this by insisting on eating only diet or low-calorie products, and exercising a lot in private. I don't remember losing much weight – even though I know I must have been – and so thought I was useless and a failure. I remember a few other girls making comments on my boobs being too big for the rest of my body, and this made me very self-conscious. I started to wear baggy, unflattering clothes, although none of this was about fashion or image. I interpreted other people's comments as being judgements on my weight, only to realise years later that I was imagining it.
It was around this time that I also became estranged from almost all of the friends I had made at school, and became extremely introverted and obsessive about everything, from what I ate to schoolwork. I went from being a mediocre student to getting straight As in everything, but I had absolutely no social life. In the meantime, my parents were on the verge of a messy separation. Being at home was like a war zone with a lot heartache, and together it was all too much for me. I wanted to make everything 'right' again, by being 'perfect'.
At the height of my problem, I would only allow myself to eat what I had 'planned' to eat. This usually took the form of writing down every meal I would have, often a week in advance. This had the effect of making me anxious all the time, as I'd have to have exactly the right foods down to the exact number of calories. I'd panic if I couldn't get hold of the prescribed products, and will never forget how I once found myself standing in a supermarket, staring at the shelves in an absolute state of terror because I couldn't find a particular sort of bread. I knew exactly how many calories were in almost anything I ate, a trait that remains with me to this day.
I lost around 4 stone, which at 5ft 1in was an enormous amount of weight. At my worst I weighed just below 5 stone. Clumps of my hair fell out and I stopped having any sexual feelings whatsoever. I felt cold all the time, and dressing became purely a means of keeping warm.
Emotionally, I became another person. I was clingy, like a child with my parents. I cried a lot, felt horribly guilty at what I was doing to them, but couldn't stop it. I usually slept for several hours a day, but would occasionally wake up panicking that I was going to die, and would go and stuff my face with cereal or bread. While I was not intending to commit suicide, I remembered thinking that apart from worrying about hurting my family, I didn't care if I lived or died.
Other people's reactions didn't help. I was generally seen as a freak. Girls at school would shout, 'Eat something!' when they walked past. I overheard conversations in the classroom – about myself and other anorexics – in which we were described as 'selfish', not deserving of help or sympathy because we had a 'self-inflicted illness'. At the time, my self-esteem was so low that I largely agreed, and often felt I was wasting people's time by seeking help or attention. I sometimes didn't even believe I had the illness, thinking I had 'made it up' to seek sympathy.
I used to hide my behaviour – I couldn't eat in front of many people at school, so would hide in the careers room under the pretence of doing 'research'. I never let my parents know the full extent of how I was depriving myself, and once they had started to worry about me and tried to make me put on weight, I would claim to be eating things they made me while I was actually throwing them away. I still feel guilty about this, but it just proves the extent to which the illness can control you.
My thinness was partly a cry for help. I was proud of the amount of weight I'd managed to shed, and enjoyed flaunting my skinny arms and legs around school, prompting horrified gasps. I wanted people to see how much I was hurting and how alone I felt as a result of my isolation at school and unhappiness at home. This eventually led to my parents and teachers sending me to see a psychiatrist, and I don't think I'd have recovered as well – if at all – if this had not happened.
Eventually I made a successful recovery, although a few things haven't changed. It's mainly an over-sensitivity to anything food-related that I have had to try to keep under control – people make comments not intending to hurt that really wind me up. My boss couldn't understand, for example, when I went into a sulk after he'd remarked that I 'really love my food'.
I am still more interested in all things food-related than most, and will always feel uncomfortable if my routine gets disturbed in any way. Sometimes this boils over into anger, and this is the main reason I choose to tell close friends about my history so they won't take it personally.
People with anorexia need to realise first and foremost that it is only the illness that is keeping you from living life to the full. Once you can let yourself not worry about food, that space in your life will start to be filled with more positive things. It's important that you seek other interests and keep as busy as you can to help this happen as quickly as possible.
For me, focusing on my university applications and looking forward to starting a new life helped me to change my outlook, but any 'project' you can get involved in will help tremendously. I also started to think more carefully about the people I chose to spend time with – if someone made me feel inadequate or undermined my recovery in any way, I knew I had to find the strength to disassociate myself from them.
Most importantly, I think you should bear in mind that – contrary to popular belief – eating disorders can be overcome, and however bad things get, with the right help and support you can go back to leading an entirely normal life. It boils down to a question of choosing to change your attitude, being aware of what triggers the problem, and knowing that it can be beaten.
