In order to truly recover from anorexia and be able to enjoy a life of complete food freedom without any form of restriction or compensatory behaviours I must embrace a version of me that I have never known.

This realisation occurred only a few weeks ago after a discussion with one of the clinicians on my treatment programme.   I had voiced to her my frustration at intrusive anorexic thoughts persisting despite my best efforts to alter my behaviours in relation to food, and therefore break the cycle as per the ‘hot cross bun’ model of cognitive behaviour therapy.  She pointed out to me two things.  Firstly, the cycle is not broken instantaneously on changing behaviour; it will take the brain a while to catch up.  Secondly, I am not yet weight restored and therefore my brain is still fearing weight gain and so my survival brain continues to do all it can to convince me weight gain is bad.  Then I started thinking about how long I have experienced such thoughts, particularly around negative body image.  These type of thoughts pre date my anorexia diagnosis by a significant number of years.  So my next question was, how is weight restoration going to see an end to such intrusive thoughts around food, exercise and body image if I’ve had them for almost as long as I can remember?  The lightbulb illuminated and I was able to answer my own question.  Perhaps I have spent the vast majority of my life not weighing enough? I am aware that I have always hovered around / just below a healthy BMI and so perhaps my body has actually been in starvation mode / migration to flee famine response mode (call it what you wish) for a lot longer than I realise and hence my survival brain has been fearing weight gain and food for a lot longer than I realise.  This means I am going to need to weight restore not to where I was a year ago, two years ago or five years ago, but to a place I have never been.  Shit.

Once I had let this sink in a little, I started to feel a little bit excited.  I have absolutely been relishing my rediscovery of food for various reasons: it tastes good, I’m not hungry all the time, I feel awake, I can laugh, I am not snapping the head off anyone who tries to make conversation with me. I could go on, but you get the idea.  These are all positive changes and so the thought of having to put a little weight on in return has been getting easier to sit with.  If it also offers me the opportunity of exploring even further who I am and could be and the new opportunities and pleasures this will generate, then sure, let’s do this. Let’s get excited, let’s imagine the endless possibilities, the joy and the happiness that has been AWOL for quite some time.

Fast forward a couple of weeks with a couple more lbs gained and let’s panic. Let’s look in the mirror and see my face getting rounder and hate it.  Let’s feel disgusted every time I sit on the toilet with my bare thighs staring up at me.  Let’s grimace whilst shaving my legs in the shower as they start to feel huge.  Let’s feel sad as I apply body lotion and can’t escape how fuller every limb is starting to feel.  Let’s feel thoroughly fed up with every item of clothing I put on and don’t feel happy with how it fits.   That will do.  You get the picture.  Even by thinking these thoughts in the context of transferring them to text, I am giving them air time and reinforcing them so I won’t go on.  I’m still excited at new beginnings but the reality has hit that the phase in between in going to be rough.  I am going to grieve.  Grieve the version of me that my survival brain is doing its damn hardest to keep alive.  The version of me that I worked so hard to achieve.  The version of me that was successful in controlling food and losing weight.  The version of me that every day hit the high of crossing the finish line of a mammoth run or bike ride.  The version of me that felt good enough.

But I want to recover, I am motivated to recover.  I am committed to recovery.  I will continue the battle.  But crikey me, it is a battle and a rollercoaster all in one.  It’s a daily yoyo between the thoughts and emotions described above. It’s exhausting that’s for sure.  A dear friend once suggested to me that I should try take the grit and determination that I apply to my job, to running, to organising my life (and people in it!), and channel in into fighting for recovery.  I am confident that I am now in a place where I can do just that.  And of course the chocolate digestives are tasting good along the way.  I am excited about the new version of me going on holiday this year and casually asking the kids, “go fetch me an almond magnum”; almost like it’s normal 😉.