The following post is something I already published on a different blog. Call me lazy, but sometimes I’ve simply explained something as well as I can. No point reinventing the wheel, right?
Anorexia is a shapeshifter of an illness, deceptive in more ways than amyone could imagine. Don’t be fooled by the media perspective. Although anorexia makes its victims LOOK the same, the ways in which it infects each person, the periods of infliction and the ways it gets into someone are never the same.
As some readers may know, I’m in a ten bed specialist unit and each person here carries their very own strain of Anorexia.
Ive always been a fan of analogy. What follows is the story of how the illness got to me…
A small, blue clad child stands in the grey playground; back turned from her playmates; tiny hands pressed tight against her eyes as she chants numbers in a voice higher than it is loud.
Behind her, a group of dishevelled children move with silent, exaggerated care; the thrill of tension bursting from concentrated rosebud lips and then, delicious stifled screams as the blue child swings round, sudden and bellowing and the clenched stealth and stillness break, pouring a cool, white rush of pure delight over each small figure, even as they fight to keep the tension in their form.
Grandmother’s Footsteps.
The aim of the game was for the players to manage to creep up behind the person who is ‘it’ without being seen to be moving. ‘It’ could turn around at any point and the other players would have to instantly freeze. Those who were still moving when ‘it’ turned around were immediately sent back to the starting line.
Why am I writing about an old playground favourite?
You may well ask.
And quite simply, it is what came to mind when a despairing loved one asked me how on earth it got to this point.
Perhaps Anorexia’s approach is different for an adolescent or college student, perhaps it walks with a different gait, I can’t really speak for others. I can barely even trace its steps towards me. What I do know is that the illness wears many masks and easily poses as the smallest giggling schoolgirl until you turn away, reassured that it isn’t getting any closer.
For a 31 year old woman, Anorexia began as a wonderfully refreshing experience of exercising after giving up smoking. It’s steps were light, triumphant and exciting. Continuing to feel healthy, my body began to tone up and I lost a few pounds.
It doesn’t hurt to cut out a few foods in the name of being healthy, right?
Less bread, less cheese, less meat, less pasta.
Next time I checked behind me, Anorexia was a few steps closer and although a part of me knew it, another part didn’t really believe it would be interested in me. I was too old for that sort of thing. I was too ‘sensible’, too grounded, too self aware.
I turned my back.
No red meat. Only a few mouthfuls of pasta or rice. No bread. No cheese.
I swung round. Anorexia froze. I couldn’t tell if it had moved or not.
No meat. No carbs. No dairy.
Low calorie fish, salad leaves, fruit and water.
And where once I thought 6 stone would never be possible, now I dream of 5 and a half.
And Anorexia is playing. Oh definitely. It’s creeping now and it’s not bothering to freeze and I’m not bothering to turn my back.
Its steps, so quiet and so disguised at the start, are heavy and quite careless.
I can no longeer stop them in their tracks by turning around. I can’t make the fearless freeze.
Now my mind is full of the footprints and although I know tracks can be covered over, I’m not sure how and so the game has become a dance. My shapeshifting partner, both a close friend and a worst enemy, simultaneously giving and stealing life. One moment its steps bring elation, the next, bottomless despair. One day I dance with fluid grace, the next with lead-soled boots.
One thing I do know is that in reality, Anorexia Nervosa is about as much of a game as Russian Roulette. It has a higher incidence of death than any other mental illness and has clamied countless lives over the years. Treatment is more effective the earlier the illness is caught but getting GPs to to take it seriously can be a problem (though why this is still the case, I don’t know). You would think that in today’s social climate, any hint of onset of Anorexia, Bulimia or any other ED would be treated as serious enough to warrant immediate intervention.
The tracks can only be covered over by you. You make the decision for anorexia to turn around and catch you moving, and for you to say ‘so what?! I’m moving, this is my life, this is the one shot I get, I will not waste any longer on you, you can throw all the bad words and all the bad feelings at me but I will keep moving forward and I won’t let you stop me. And suddenly you realise your shot at life isn’t a game, and you don’t need to play by anorexia’s rules, and a whole other world opens up where to get to be a daughter, a friend, a girlfriend, a mother, a superstar, you laugh at the little things and ride the wave of the big things. Suddenly you’re not in anyone’s tracks but your own and man it feels so very freeing. Just a thought x
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This immediately made me think of the Doctor Who episode called “Blink” which has the Weeping Angels in it. It completely fits with your analogy. If you haven’t seen it, I recommend it and would love your feed back. I think I’m going re-watch it again with this in mind.
I remember exactly when I started with overt behavior but the reasons were complicated and wrapped up with the military’s expectation of what women would look like and weigh. I was an athlete (compulsive over exerciser) so was muscular, making the scale heavy. I was by no means big. Size wise I was probably smaller than I am now because of being on exercise restriction. The exercise started though when I was 15 in an effort to hide my body, being utterly full of shame and self-loathing for events that happened previous to that. This was way before the internet or any media mentions. I remember being sent to a hospital psych ward. There wasn’t eating disorder programs back then as far as I knew. The military actually considered charging me for damaging government property (me).
I can’t remember a time in my life that wasn’t eating disordered. My behavior at 15 was definitely not normal. I’ve never counted the years to that age, only the military age. Hmm, that would make it 38 years… wow. However, here we are moving forward, or trying to. It’s hard for chronic anorexics, well any ED, but it’s tough for people who’ve had it any length of time. Once it latches on, it’s hold is tight for everyone.
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