I had an eating disorder. Already indulging in self-harm and banging my head on my bedroom wall from the age of 11, my eating disorder began when I was 11 almost 12 years old, during the 1994 summer holidays when I developed a habit of drinking lots of diet cola and eating only bowls of breakfast cereal. I lost half a stone by doing this and went from 12 stone to 11.5 stone. I was very proud of myself.
Then when school began again I resumed my normal habit of eating for comfort; eating eased and helped me get through stress and while doing the eating it suppressed anxieties. Along with eating the man sized portions my mother would serve me at meal times.
During the new school year (still aged 12) I discovered that I could still enjoy eating, yet "get rid" of the food by vomiting, which I felt was amazing, it was my special, secret way of controlling something.........I was "in-charge". This feeling of being in-charge is a rue that the devious illness of a eating disorder gives the sufferer.
So this went on for another and another year in secret until, when I was 14 and at my heaviest I was just hitting 15 stone and wearing men's 32 inch waist jeans, the vomiting became noticed and was put down to some sort of stomach bug by my parents, which I happily went along with, I could vomit, no questions asked and I stopped school due to the "illness". All good I thought! At this point I began to reduce my food intake while still vomiting and I lost some weight, the doctors became involved in finding out what was wrong, blood tests etc, etc. No mention of an eating disorder!! In 2 months I had lost 3 stone in weight.
It was a mystery. Daisy loved her food, so there must be something......a physical illness of some sort, but it came to a stand still. Weight continued to drop and I was loving the "control" I had over my body, I had power, the feeling of being "in-control" is immense when you are in the midst of eating disorder. Exercise began, 100 sit-ups a day, in my mind I was living a dream. All the while the self-harm was continuing, hidden, my secret way of coping with what the eating disorder seemed not to help with.
Anorexia was eventually diagnosed, with shock and horror from family.
I was consumed and I loved it.................BOOM! I wanted to die! Age 15. A slow, steady death, with me "in-control" 'til the end!
Feelings of depression and suicidal thoughts had been waving in and out of my mind for a few years.
I did get the feeling then and now (looking back) my mother quite enjoyed me being ill. It gave her some power, she referred to me as her little doll.
I was told at age 16 after blood tests and weighing in at 4 stone 5 lb, I had roughly a week until organ failure, I refused hospital and my mother wouldn't let me go in either. Bed rest!!
I knew there was more, life was waiting for me but I needed to breath.
When I was 12 I attempted to hang my-self in my bedroom, when it didn't work out I sat on the floor and cried hard. I looked at my body and wished I could cut it all away. I hated home, hated school, hated my-self with repulsion. Not just for the way I looked but for everything. My lack of friends/social life and my art work was never good enough! The things you think went you are in that place.
I was so alone and my parents were so preoccupied with baggage from their childhoods and marital problems. I did try talking to them but was told in these words when it came to a lack of friends "You don't try hard enough"(father).........."You are to judgmental of people"(mother).
I wish I could go back in time to that child and give her a big hug. Hold her and cry with her. Tell her things will be good.