Hope, even when it feels inedible.
My world was 100% consumed by a world that my eating disorder had created. A world that I could barely keep my head above water as the ocean waves came crashing in and out. I was drowning and in reality I was dying, even if I didn't believe it. And this gift of life was disappearing.
When I decided and committed to getting on the recovery train, the saying that there is a 'light at the end of the tunnel' sounded absurd. Because at that point in time, my tunnel was filled with complete and utter darkness. So there felt like there was completely no 'light', not even a speckle of light at the end of any so called 'tunnel'. Recovery felt impossible and an unrealistic reality for me.
I was tired. I was tired of counting calories. I was tired of running myself ragged with hours of compulsive and excessive exercise. I was tired of all the rules. I was simply tired of everything being such an enormous effort all the time. This life, this world, my eating disorder had created wasn't living. I wasn't living life and I was barely surviving in this life.
And I reached a point where if I continued down this downward and deteriative spiral, my treatment team were going to be intervening once again. Once again, I'd be dragged back into inpatient hospitalization. Once again, I'd restrict and over exercise to loose as much weight I could before I'd be admitted. Going in and out of hospital became my life, for years. It had become my so called 'normal' and I began to believe that being in and out of eating disorder wards would be the way of life forever. But despite how crazy of a year 2020 was, I knew I didn't want to live like this, I didn't want to do it anymore. I had a serious one on one conversation with myself one morning, whilst I was on one of my compulsive walks. I knew that if I didn't step up and start taking some responsibility for my health and essentially my life. Intervention was right on my doorstep, and if I didn't do something that all the decisions were going to be made for me. And I didn't want that to happen, I didn't want to go down this same path or this cycle that had become my life to do another lap.
In all seriousness, it's taken months and two inpatient hospitalizations into an eating disorder recovery program and a ton of effort, hard work, commitment and many tears for me to begin to see that the tunnel isn't filled with complete darkness anymore. When I less focussed on the calories in that banana or that muffin and not plotting how I was going to burn off the calories to lose more weight. Slowly my narrow visioned world that consisted/entirely consumed by numbers, exercise and food. Did my world start opening up. I started to find things to laugh at and began finding things that I learnt to enjoy and now love. I started to write again. I even picked up a new hobby of making patchwork quilts. I began to enjoy waking up to get myself a morning frothy milky coffee that wasn't my old friend of the usual 'long black with no milk'. I began getting outside more, sitting in the warm sunshine and feeling the grass and the sand between my toes. I found a new love for nature, and how grounded I felt sitting by the ocean. Listening and only hearing the sound of the ocean waves as they come crashing in and out. (I have a noisy mind, so for me this is a big achievement). Walking became a pleasure and a way to clear my mind, instead of a way to loose weight and burn calories. I found out that I love yoga. I love how it allows me to trust my body and how it enables me to recognise that my body is a precious gift. Yoga is teaching me how to be mindful, insightful and how to listen to my body- how it feels and what it needs. It is also showing me what it can do and how it can move. I now appreciate this, because I once I was so preoccupied with manipulating my shape and weight, I did not have the capacity to appreciate this body and what it can do.
Such a huge part of my life has been taken up by my battle with Anorexia. I could only see darkness, there was no light. And when I would curl up in a ball and sob my eyes out to my step-mum, I wished someone could tell me how on earth do you get and how do you hold onto the handlebar of this rollercoaster ride until you get to the other side. How do you hold on until your tunnel of darkness begins to see light? And I guess the words I wish I had heard when I took that step to change my life and was filled with so much distress, anxiety and that loud eating disorder voice screaming at me would be:
"I know right now, what you're going through it complete and utter hell. That it's horrible and you're miserable. And it feels like this storm will never pass. You are tired of crying and that you are tired of feeling sick and bloated. You feel anxious and distressed all the time, and you question if it is really even worth it? It feel's like you are trapped on the other side of a bedroom door, after every time you eat. With your eating disorder abusing you for disobeying it. I know it's hard and I know it's horrible. But please don't give up, and even though your've probably lost hope please remember that somewhere in this world someone is holding onto hope and praying for you right now. I promise you that despite how shit right now is, it doesn't stay this bad forever. It's flipping hard and a battle, but the intensity lessens with time. It really does. The table becomes less of a battle field, and more of a new 'normal'. It still is hard, but the way I want you to try and look at it is that, to get better, to discover life and to rediscover yourself you got to do this. It's going to be really hard for a while, but the sparkles of light will begin to glitter when you least expect it"
Love Hannah x
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