I’m not a teenage girl who doesn’t eat. I am a 44-year-old mother of two, diagnosed with anorexia in October last year.  And I did eat a lot.  Not enough however to fuel the rigorous amounts of exercise I put myself through at ridiculous hours of the morning. Yet this was admired by others who commended my drive, determination and commitment.

I had misconceptions about what anorexia actually is and unless you have suffered from the illness or are close to someone who has, you probably have too.  I knew something wasn’t right but I did not consider myself anorexic.  So much so that I was initially very reluctant to agree to the treatment programme recommended to me on diagnosis.  I didn’t need it because I wasn’t that bad. It was over the top because I wasn’t that poorly.  The last thing I needed was any form of meal plan because I knew how to eat.  Nutrition and cooking was my passion and I cooked healthy meals from scratch, never choosing low calorie options. I would be out of place amongst patients really suffering from anorexia.  Even after being admitted to hospital with a level of Creatine Kinase in my blood indicative of damaged heart muscle, alongside a resting heart rate barely above 30 beats per minute, I was still sure I could sort this out myself.  I was wrong.

I now understand that anorexia is so much more than starving yourself because you want to be thin.  In fact, it’s just not that at all.

Anorexia is the result of your body going into energy deficit where there is not enough energy going in to make up for the amount of energy going out.  The reasons why someone ends up in energy deficit can vary and it is not always a case of deliberate starvation with a desire to be thin. 

I have spoken in other posts about my understanding of what led to anorexia for me but what did anorexia look like in action for me?

Excessive exercise is a huge factor for many anorexia sufferers.  I certainly didn’t regard this behaviour as anorexic and why would I when I was applauded for my motivation in getting up early to start every day with a little energising, mood boosting movement?  At 03:20 every morning (04:00 at a weekend), I would wake, mostly without the need for an alarm as my body was already needing to move.  I would begin with a 25 minute HIIT workout to warm up and then alternate between a 10 mile run (14 on a Monday) and a 16-mile bike ride.  I’d add in a couple of weight sessions during the week and a yoga based workout to keep supple!  And of course the brisk walks at lunchtime on workdays because it’s good to take a screen break isn’t it?  This wasn’t pleasurable, it was compulsive.  I also engaged in enormous amounts of incidental exercise: cleaning, decorating, gardening – anything to avoid being still and resting.  I would literally twitch if I didn’t adhere to these rules.  I would be irritable.  I would panic.  I wouldn’t earn food.  I wouldn’t deserve to eat. I was fearful.  This is anorexia.

I thought about food a lot.  Of course I did, I was passionate about food and cooking and baking was my hobby.  I spent hours searching for, and collecting recipes, planning and prepping meals. I baked cakes for family and work colleagues but never ate them.  I loved scouring an Artisan food market.  Or did I have an unhealthy preoccupation with food indicative of mental hunger?

I looked forward to breakfast, except I couldn’t eat it until 11:00.  I ate as much for my evening meal as my husband, except I’d had no lunch.  I never snacked.  To accept a biscuit, a chocolate, a mouthful of something to try, or the weekly offer of a sausage roll in the office would be ‘messy’ and out of control. A jar of jam or chutney could only be opened once the existing one was finished to save from conflicting thoughts around what flavour to have.  Tapas in a social setting was uncomfortable because it was hard to gauge the total quantity of food consumed and others might take too big of a share.  These controls ensured a calm sense of order. At least they did in my mind whereas in reality, these behaviours were disorderly, and anorexic.

I preferred whole foods and why wouldn’t I when it makes perfect sense that our bodies were designed to eat food sourced from the earth and not artificially created in a factory?  I was horrified at the suggestion of a meal plan that included processed foods. I argued that I honestly enjoyed a handful of fruits and nuts more than a biscuit. I wasn’t orthorexic because I wasn’t a follower of some ‘fad’ influencer or movement on Insta, but rather these were my values.  Except this was also a form of restriction and therefore anorexic behaviour.  I do have a genuine passion for fresh, natural wholefoods as mother nature intended us to eat, however I now accept that my anorexia fed off this interest like a parasite, incorporating processed foods as a food to be feared relative to weight gain.  I now fully accept the need for biscuits, crisps, milk chocolate and sugar laden yoghurts to be on my meal plan, and why there was no negotiation to be had with my clinicians. In order to challenge my fear and rigidity, I needed to face it head on.  These foods will continue to have a place in my diet because I understand that to achieve food freedom I must remove all forms of restriction.  The benefits for my overall mental and physical health are far greater with chocolate digestives present in my life.

And then there are the additional behaviours and traits which whilst not anorexic in themselves, are common among sufferers.  The perfectionism and rigidity in all aspects of life, controlling others, refusing offers of help, dogged determination, the desperate need for validation.  So many stories, thoughts and feelings shared have resonated between fellow patients.  In order to rewire my brain towards food freedom, I also need to challenge rigid behaviours in general. When I fill my car with fuel, I now take great pleasure in challenging myself to finish dispensing on a random total ending in a uneven ‘pence’.  Well I did say that anorexia is so much more than starving yourself!