6 years ago anorexia tried to kill me. Since then I have had a constant battle with food, weight and shape. I’m writing this story to help other young teenagers
who may enter the lock of anorexia. I don’t want it to happen to others.
I’m Hannah, a recovered anorexic struggling with traits of bulimia. I was 12 when the
dieting began, I had a good appetite as a child but as I was hitting teenage years I became obsessed, worried and scared about how I looked. At the time I didn’t
realize what anorexia was. 12 months later it dominated my life.
A year after the dieting had began I was admitted to my local children’s ward. I remember the
day well. The receptionist came to my classroom asking me to leave. I left the class, unaware of the fact that this would be the last time I’d see some of my friends for
4 months. I was petrified about how much weight I’d gain while being in hospital; however deep down I was relieved. I couldn’t keep going like this. I was a tired and
energy less wreck struggling to keep up with school work, maintain friendships and basically lead a regular healthy lifestyle. The pediatric doctor empathised the
dangers of this illness. I could have easily had a heart attack had I gone on much longer. This is when it hit this 13 year old, naïve little girl that it was change now or
die.
When I was in hospital I thought this was going to be the end of the hard work, pain and emotional torture that I would have to deal with. I soon realized
that the hard work was just beginning, getting over this evil devil that possessed me was the hardest most challenging work that I would ever have to deal with and
still now, 6 years later, I still can’t believe I did it.
A week after being admitted to the children’s ward I was referred to an adolescent eating disorder unit in
London called Ellern Mede. It was here that my struggle began. When my mum left me at this unit, at first I thought I wasn’t going to be able to cope but the staff and
young people in here were so unbelievable supportive. I met some amazing people, most of which I will never forget. One in particular played a major role in helping
me through a lonely and scary time; I will never be able to thank her enough. She’s an amazing girl and I hope I never loose contact with her.
Firstly I was
worried, I wrote many letters to my sister telling her that she had to get me out, I didn’t belong there, everyone was so ill. People argued, threw plates at dinner and
emotionally had great difficulties. I didn’t realize at the time I fitted in perfectly. I didn’t have much time to think about missing home. The intensive therapy began the
day after I got there. My time was also filled with school work and social groups; however the main focus in this unit was on meal times. There was an hour for
breakfast, an hour for lunch and an hour for dinner. We had to eat everything we were given or it portrayed the fact that we weren’t recovering and your time at the
unit would increase. Nobody talked at dinner as everyone was concentrating on their food, cutting it up, smearing it into their plates, and doing their best to hide any
food. Some girls hid it in their knickers, that’s how desperate they were to avoid this enemy.
I was allowed to see my mum every Saturday for about 2 months.
I also had two half hour telephone calls every week. As time went on my desire to go home became stronger than my desire to loose weight. This pushed me towards
a discharge date and visits home became more frequent. I spent less and less time at the unit, it was difficult to adapt to things at home. I found school especially
difficult to fit into. I missed my friends from the unit. We understood each other and we had good relationships. There were 17 of us for the majority of time I was there
but a few came and a few went within my 4 months. There were 16 girls and 1 boy. We all had something in common, something that was so important to us we
didn’t want anyone to take it away. We cared for each other. At my school I felt I was the new girl. I didn’t know which friendship group to join. I had to leave
everyday at lunch time so I could have lunch with my mum otherwise I would have left it and been dragged back into old habits.
Eventually, months after
being admitted I was discharged from Ellern Mede only to find that battles with food and exercise were going to continue for a long time yet. I continued my therapy
treatment. After returning to London for a few check ups I was passed on to a young patients unit in Bath as an outpatient. At this point I was at such a low. I cried
myself to sleep every night and resented the weight that I’d gained. Deep down I knew the weight I had gained hadn’t been enough as my periods still hadn’t
returned from when I lost them at the age of 12. I loved it that I didn’t have periods, it was like a safety blanket for me as although I also felt so fat, I could always tell
my self that I was medically underweight. My BMI was still too low.
I hated what I was doing to my family. I put them through so much hurt and pain. I don’t
know how they put up with it. My lowest point was when I was smashing my plate of pasta on the floor; I turned around to see my 8 year old brother, Ben, standing in
the doorway crying as I screamed at our mum in her face. I threatened them; I blackmailed them, anything so they wouldn’t make me eat.
Week after week
me and my mum traveled to bath for therapy. I would swear, cry and run out the room if I put on weight. If I had lost weight one week I would be more
talkative.
In the autumn of 2005, just as I turned 17, my periods returned. This was a really horrible time as I no longer had that safety blanket. I had to learn
to see myself that I wasn’t fat rather than rely on medical facts. My BMI was now in a healthy range. This was hard and I turned to a new way of coping. Bulimia. It
began when I went out for a meal with my friends and ate loads. I felt disgusted with myself and had to get rid of it quickly. Although I hated being sick I continued to
do it. It became more and more frequent until I was doing it up to two times a day. I was addicted to it. I would go out my way to binge then throw it all back up. It
hurt. I knew I was damaging my body but I became a victim of a vicious cycle. I binged and threw up because I felt so fat, however the more I did it the more weight I
gained so I’d feel so fat. When you throw up after a binge, most the contents you have thrown up is water. This is why my weight continued to increase when
actually this was the first time in 6 years my weight should have stabilized. At this time I found it difficult to concentrate on school work and friendships. It was a time
when my friends were beginning to move on in their lives. Get boyfriends and decide where they want to go in life. I had no idea, all I would focus on if food, getting
rid of food, weight and shape.
During all this, I left the outpatient unit in Bath and was admitted to an outpatient unit in Swindon to carry on with the much
needed therapy. I became sick of being ill, I felt so worn out from thinking about my body image and food. I was exhausted. I felt as though I was running a race and
it was never going to end.
This year I have come so far in terms of recovering. When I was ill I missed having a regular happy lifestyle that I once had. I’ve
got it back and I’m so grateful for that. Anorexia has taken away 6 years of my life. I don’t want to have to look back and regret but its difficult not to. This illness isn’t
self inflicted. If someone came and offered me anorexia on a plate now I’d like to think I’d say no. I don’t think I have ever met anyone with an eating disorder who
said this is how they wanted to be. Most of them are totally oblivious to the fact that they even ill. I want people to know the signs, symptoms, dangers and long term
difficulties with this illness. I want to help people before the struggle even begins.
