"How did you recover" or "How did you rid yourself of this monkey"
I can tell you now, there is no simple 'moment' where you just wake up and think, "Oh frick, I'm gonna go and just EAT" (I WISH it was that simple). I do however recall one morning I woke up, super motivated to eat some bananas on toast - downed them, only to feel this horrible wave or remorse and guilt seep over me that the monkey had created; It consumed me and I literally felt like ripping my skin off for what I had done.
I felt like that, every time, every second of every day to be honest.
I like to look at my recovery from Anorexia, as a series of 'fortunate' events.
A few small events in which - I, Sam, Won the battle with the monkey.
It may not even have been a battle, but a point in which I felt I had more control over the monkey more than it had over me.
After having nearly the whole year off school, People would have obviously been questioning what was wrong with me. Only a few closest to me really understood, the rest just thought I was 'Sick'.
One person I've always found it hard to explain well to - is boys. As, the female make-up and physcology behind eating can be in many ways a lot different from males, and sometimes, incomprehensible. I would never expect any boy to EVER understand the lengths that us females obsess over food daily.
I would receive texts from my boyfriend at the time in the middle of the night saying how, "He wanted the old Sam back." - This would bring me to tears.. had I really gone that far?
I was torn between holding on to this life of secrets I had created, and the life I used to live and was still running, but I was not part of it anymore. It was almost as if it was a dream.
I remember one night, my father sat me on his lap; It was at the dinner table, our regimental time of 6pm where I was sat down and watched (it felt like all eyes on me, when my parents were probably just looking at me hoping I would be okay) as we ate. He looked me in the eyes, and I've never ever seen such a sadness in somebody's eyes; His heart was really struggling to see me like this. Emaciated, a skeleton, frail and fragile and his own daughter - watching her slowly fade away.
"I want my daughter back"
Were the only words that could escape through his lips. I sat there, staring into space. I remember so vividly the hold this Monkey had over me. It was convincing me, "You don't need them, you've got me, remember? Remember what you really want - You want to be perfect. You want to never gain weight again"
Day in and day out, I fought with the Monkey. It seemed everyday was a new, exhausting battle - but the days seemed to blur into one. I had lost complete trust from my family; They didn't trust the Anorexia, it had all power. I had to be monitored for every meal, I wasn't allowed to be left alone for a minute- I was always under supervision.
The mental toll this takes on ANYONE - Having your freedom taken away from you - is horrendous. I had nothing. I was a zombie, a puppet, with no say in any matter. All I could do was follow orders.
I vividly remember a changing moment in my recovery - was one night, It would have been around 1am, I couldn't sleep. My joints were in agonizing pain, and my mind was just so overactive from not being fed properly. I decided to write down my thoughts on paper, I had no clue what I was going to write - but I just began writing, all of the things I wanted back in my life.
1. Freedom. I wanted to be trusted to eat a meal by myself. I wanted to be able to walk around the house without my parents thinking I was going off to a secret room to exercise.
2. Green Milk and Special K Cereal. I wasn't allowed these foods because they were considered "Diet foods", hence anything to do with "diet" or "fat free" would fuel Anorexia's hold over me. I actually thoroughly enjoyed Special K Cereal and having trim milk, as it made me FEEL nutritious and good. But no, wasn't allowed it. All thanks to the Monkey.
3. To be able to walk my dog. I wasn't even allowed to walk down my hallway for heavens sake, let alone walk my dog.
4. To go back to school. I missed learning, and being around friends that I cared about.
The list would go on and on, covering the most minute things that had been taken away from me that I wanted back.
I still have this list today.
My weekly checkups were still happening.
For me recovery was something along the lines of 2 steps forward, 1 step back.
It was always a yo-yo, I KNEW that recovery would not be smooth sailing. It never is. I was in for the long haul. I would do ridiculous things to try make my weigh-ins.
It was like a religious dressing - I'd put on all my heaviest clothes (jeans, coats, shoes, belts, I even thought some heavy earings would at least give me +30gms) I'd put on about 3 layers, wrap some stones out of the pot plant in gladwrap, and put them down my bra.
Low and behold, my weigh in was +500gms! A gain! The doctors, and my parents, were so happy.
Deep inside I was scratching at my eyes. You fucking idiot.
A week later, whilst mum was cleaning my room she found the wrapped up stones in my drawers.
She asked me what they were for, and I hesitantly replied with, "I'm stone collecting."
The look on her face was priceless.
Soon enough, The monkeys ways were no longer secrets. My parents, and the doctors new what to expect. I reached a point, where I was told - You have two choices, Eat to live or starve and Die.
This is when ME, Sam, Piped up. A little bit of courage was still hanging on, a little bit of faith. Somebody who wanted to LIVE.
I have no set answer to recovery. I have no cure. No remedy. Each individual persons experience with this disease is different. But one thing remains clear with me - that each milestone I faught and won, Each time I put on a bit of weight - I got something of my life back. I was REWARDED. I liked that, it made me really smile on the inside. I started being able to go for walks, only for 10 minutes. But it was enough to smell the fresh air, feel the breeze sweep over my skin and for me to feel 'normal' again.
I thrived off this, and I think it was the motivation for getting my life back that really pushed me to recover.
I reached a point where I was allowed to go back to school for half days.
I am still, ever so thankful for my friends who welcomed me back open armed. With no questions, just let me be and I felt no anxiety whatsoever. It was truly a blessing to have that.
Ironically, my first period back at school was Cooking.
Fuck.
I literally wanted to run and hide, or skip the period.
But ya know what, I stuck it out. There is NO going back now. I didn't want to make a dick of myself in front of all my friends, then I KNEW they would talk about me as that "Anorexic who skips cooking class".
I wanted to feel normal again. We were making bread.
Okay, I can deal with that. I ended up making a wee monkey out of my bread.
Monkey bread, yeah. We'll go with that.
It was morning tea, so we were all sitting outside in our social circle. I remember opening my wee monkey out of its warm tinfoil, and looking at its horribly formed yeast fast.
I laughed, and thought, "Monkey, I'm going to eat you."
And I ate it. All by myself.
Silly monkey, had no chance.
Another defining moment in my recovery would have been whilst me, my father and my brother were over at a friends house catching up. Social situations were scary for me, because I knew they always involved food. Our family friends, had this ritual of before dinner, sitting around, having a laugh and drinking Speights whilst munching on some chips and dip.
My eyes were on the chips and dip as they were passed around the room.
My dad took one. My brother reached in for a handful. And the bowl came around to me.
I looked at it and gulped. I slowly reached in, and took one chip. A single chip, no dip. I couldn't handle dip I just took a bloody chip for goodness sakes.
I ate that chip.
On the way home, my day was so proud of me! We run mum on her cellphone using the cars speaker system and I told her my story of me eating a chip without getting anxiety.
Everyone was so damn proud, and heck, I was too.
All over a chip.
It was moments like those that slowly added up and therefore I started to creep back into the healthy weight range for my height and age. I was around 50kg. This is a lot considering my lowest was 37kg.
The doctors and specialists advised me I would be discharged from hospital at 53kg.
I was scared of that number, the Monkey had made me fear it SO much. I felt disgusting thinking of that number being ON me. I didn't want that... but I knew, I wanted my freedom more.
The day I was discharged from hospital, was one of the happiest moments of my life.
I walked out of those doors feeling like I had my whole life back. I was whole.
But the Monkey, he hadn't left.
His voice still lingered in the back of my mind.
He whispered to me in his comforting manner.
"You're out of there, good work.
Now, you are all mine."
I have experienced this "Monkey" in many different shapes, forms and experiences. Initially, it was the Anorexia - but I will in my next blog go through with how my emotional relationship with food affected my life over the next few years, and how it sprung into a disgusting, vile, binge eating disorder.
Thankyou for reading, Once again.
Sam x
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