i'm catherine. i'm a chemistry finalistat the university of warwick, i'm a daughter, a sister, friend,girlfriend, and recovering anorexic. i want to give you an insightinto eating disorders and recovery using my journey,
crash diet 500 calories, my journey of pain, tears,acceptance, and discovery. eating disorders do not discriminate: gender, age, sexuality,and race mean nothing. these illnesses are not reservedfor troubled teenage girls
who want to look like models. they are serious illnesseswith devastating consequences. anorexia has the highest mortality rateof any psychiatric illness. i suppose the question here is: why? why do we choose to starve ourselves, make ourselves sick,and exercise to oblivion? why do we choose to harm ourselvesand those around us? the answer is simple: it's not a choice. eating disorders are not a choice.
they are a coping mechanism,a safety blanket, an identity. they make life simpleby giving you a rule book for life. rules that tell you how to live;what to do, what to say, what to eat. rules take away chance and decision,and they take away risk. they give you control. of course, we all want to feel in control. but often, demons arise: alcoholism, drug abuse,self-harm, eating disorders. all addictions, all seeking control,in a world, full of social constructs
set by somebody else. seeking escape from the torturethey feel in everyday life. seeking peace fromthe constant voice in their head telling them they're not good enough, seeking numbness so that they don't have to dealwith their negative thoughts and emotions. eating disorders are notjust about food and weight. they are an addiction, they are self-harm. every eating disorder is different
from the way they startand how they present themselves to the rules that govern themand the purpose that they serve. but that's the common factor;they all serve a purpose. five years ago today,it was my 18th birthday. i held all the insecurities that any young woman holdsabout her appearance, but unlike my peers,i wasn't excited about turning 18. i didn't want to go outdrinking and partying. i didn't feel ready to be an adult.
i was stuck on this unstoppableconveyor belt of gcses to a-levels, university, and work. it felt like my life was out of my hands, and i didn't know what i wanted. so, i turned to one thingi knew would make me happy: food. i wanted to eat more. so i decided to lose weight so i could eat morewithout feeling guilty about it. then came my rules:
don't snack in-between meals,don't eat unless you're starving, don't eat more than anyone you're with. these went unnoticed by those around me, and i tried my hardestto keep it that way, because i was in control. the plan worked; i didn't snack in-between meals,i didn't eat more than anyone i was with, and i didn't eat unless i was starving. so, i lost weight.
but i didn't eat moreas i promised myself. time passed, life went on. january exams camealong with all the stress. i felt out of control again. so, i made more rules: never finish a plate of food,never eat foods high in fat. always pick the lowest calorie option. i was back in control. i felt safe again.
but little did i know the rules that gave me safetywere slowly killing me. by april 2012, i'd lost around a stone. my ribs began to show,my hip bones protruded, and i was a hanger for my clothes. i didn't thinkthat i looked any different, but my family and those around me noticed. my mother dragged me to the doctors. i was so angry.
i didn't think there wasanything wrong with me; i thought it was perfectly normalto never eat dessert, take cornflakes to the cinemainstead of popcorn, and weigh myselfat least five times a day. the doctor referred meto a specialist service in leicester for an assessment. at the assessment, i was diagnosedwith 'anorexia nervosa.' i ticked all the criteria. one: an intense fearof gaining weight or becoming fat,
even though underweight. two: a refusal to maintain a body weight, at or above a minimallynormal weight for age and height. three: a disturbance in the way in whichone's body weight or shape is experienced, and an undue influenceof this on self-evaluation. after my diagnosis, it becamea lot harder to follow my rules. my family were aware now and plied mewith food at any opportunity. so i had to get sneaky. i added more rules to my arsenal:
never eat alone,never drink calories, avoid food at all costs. i had to visit the hospital every weekto be weighed and see my therapist. i took great delight in seeingthe falling number on the scale every time i stepped on. i was getting sucked in deeperto the anorexic way of thinking. home life was getting worseas i was being increasingly deceptive. meal times were horrendous; an internal battle between not eating,and causing yet another argument.
i knew, as soon as i putmy knife and fork together, half of my food untouched,that it would start. my sister, running upstairs, unableto cope with what i was doing to myself. my mother crying, my father shouting,asking me if i wanted to die. i just sat through it all. it killed me to see what i was doingto my family but i couldn't stop. i didn't think that i deserved to stop. by this time, it was june. time for my final a-level exams.
somehow, i made it through, determined not to letmy 14 years of school go to waste. >from the day i finished,i deteriorated rapidly. each day, eating less and less,becoming more and more deceitful. rules increasing day by day,becoming more and more restrictive: never eat more than 500 calories a day. never eat anythingthat you haven't weighed, never enjoy food. that summer, we hada family holiday abroad planned,
but i wasn't allowed to fly. at home, i couldn't sleep. my heart rate so low,my body scared i wouldn't wake up. my 15-year-old sisterhad to give me a piggy-back because i couldn't walk up a hill. i couldn't think straight. i knew that i couldn't live like this,but i couldn't eat. i couldn't gain weight. because that would mean losing control.
and that was the strongest rule of all, the one presiding overall the others: never lose control. after one of my weekly appointments, i was admitted, voluntarily,as an inpatient to leicester eating disorders unit. i was so confused. what had i done? i didn't want to be there,but i knew that i needed help. i'd spend my nights lying in bed,watching food network,
gazing at all the beautiful foodthat i was depriving myself of. food. one of my favorite things. of course, i couldn't admitthat, not to anybody. because anorexics hate food, right? no. deep, deep down, most anorexics love food. they're just depriving themselvesof something they love as a punishment. over my five-month stayon the anorexia ward,
i experienced thingsthat not many 18 year olds would: i heard screams as a girl had a feeding tubereinserted for the fourth time that day; unable to leave my roomduring ward lock-downs when somebody on section tried to escape. of course, it wasn't all like that. i made some amazing friends. for the first time, you're with people who understand exactlywhat you're going through.
we had so many good times: evenings watching movies,doing face masks, laughing, and joking. i felt normal, albeit in an abnormal situation. i progressed through the program, every day challenging the rulesi'd made to keep myself safe. for every one i broke, another sprung up. anorexia is a very competitive illness, and being surroundedby other anorexics gives you ideas.
you pick up their habitsand their rules, too. but i did it; i restored my weight. i broke my rules.i ripped up my rule book. anorexia was a chapter in my life,but it wasn't the whole book. i was discharged, wentto university after my gap year, and all was good; for about a month. this story isn't linear, and the journey from anorexiato recovery is rarely linear. i relapsed.
my weight deteriorated again,albeit not as fast as the first time as i was eating one or two meals a day. it turns out my rule bookwas still intact. walking to and from lecturesbecame difficult. five-hour labs were unbearable. i was going in and dealingwith dangerous chemicals, having not eaten for almost 24 hours. how i didn't harm myselfor somebody else, i have no idea. i struggled throughmy first year of university,
plastering on my fake smileand pretending everything was fine. i made it though my exams,but then i had to move home. this stabilized my weight loss as i was being made to eatthree meals a day, plus a snack, under the watchful eye of my family. being at home and eating more meanti had to be much, much sneakier again. crumbling biscuit downmy dressing gown sleeves, pretending to have lunch,lying about what i had or hadn't eaten. i became a lying machine.
i hated lying to my family. they knew, though. they knew exactly what i was doing. even as i deteriorated, i was adamantthat i was going back to university. i was not taking another gap year. i was not giving up. i met my psychiatrista week before term started. he told me i couldn't go back. i cried and shouted.
i didn't want to go back into hospital,but it was my only option. i gave up on going back to universitythat year and accepted a bed. it took all my strength, but i had just takenthe biggest step forward imaginable. this admission wasso much harder than the first. i had a new desireto be the 'perfect anorexic.' this thought kept meprisoner like no other. it played on all my feelingsof self-doubt, inadequacy, fraudulence, and worthlessness.
my weight had plummetedto almost half of what it is today, but still, i wouldn't eat. "perfect" anorexics do not eat. i sat through meal after meal,nurses willing me to eat something, and i wouldn't. my blood sugar crashed. i was so dehydrated, the doctor couldn't get bloodfrom my veins for tests. it was only on the threatof being 'sectioned'
that i began to eat again. i began my journey of my recoveryfor the second time. yes, i had started eating again,but i was still clinging to my anorexia, clinging to the rules i'd madeto keep myself safe. i believed that i was worthless,and that my life wasn't worth living. why would being three stone heaviermake my life any better, make my life worth anything? so, i stayed ill. safe.
away from reality, and away from harm. i was numb, and i liked that. it meant i didn't have to dealwith how much of a failure i felt. recovery was just too risky. recovery would meanfinally letting go of anorexia; letting go of my rules,letting go of my identity. if i recovered, who would i become? what could i amount to? recovery isn't just aboutwanting it enough:
you can want it morethan anything in the world. you can have so many reasons to recover,but you just can't do it. it is the most terrifyingconcept imaginable. it means letting go of controland leaving your comfort zone. of course, we are all guiltyof having rules and staying in our comfort zone. given long enough,we find comfort in our suffering. we stay in the same job we hate. we drag out a dysfunctional relationship.
i starved myself for days on end, understanding the consequencesbut so afraid to change. i can't pinpoint the exact momentthat it happened, but after countless therapy sessions, a lot of soul searching,and restoring some of my weight, i began to properly engagewith my treatment. i began to believe there was a tiny chancemy life could be better with recovery. yes, it would bring scary decisions, but it would also bringa world of opportunity.
it was only then when i believedthat the risk was worth it, i believed i had a chance; a chance at university; a chance at love; but most of all, a chance at life. for me, the path to recoveryinvolved ripping up my rule book. the rule book that governed my every move. the rules that made me feel safe;made me feel in control; that caused my weight to plummet,my hair to fall out, and my bones to thin. the rules that were slowly killing me -
i had to break these rules, one by one. it is impossible to recoverfrom anorexia and keep your rules. you have to leave your comfort zone. you have to rip up your rule book. anorexia gave me that reality check: i can't always be comfortable,i can't always have control, and there is no rule book for life. recovery has brought me so many things. it has brought me university,it has brought me love,
and it has brought me life. i want to reach out to anyone sufferingand say to please accept help. without the service in leicester,and the support of my friends and family, i would not be here today. i want you to believe me when i say that you are worth recovery,you are worth a life, and you are good enough. the one overwhelming thingthat recovery has brought me is me. i have got myself back.
and, as it turns out, life is way too shortto weigh your cornflakes. thank you. (applause)
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