Tag Archive: Recovering From Anorexia

I’m PAINFULLY aware of the gaping abyss that lies between this post and my last. I have been having huge problems concentrating my efforts on doing any ‘personal’ writing, and the little time that I HAVE been able to focus, has been spent doing the writing that is a necessary component of a course I’m doing.

Yes. You did hear that right. A course.

I’ve now been out of hospital since the 1st of August 2017. That’s almost a whole six months. A fact that, in itself, isn’t joyously impressive. What does make it count for a little more, is the fact that I actually managed the Christmas period without OVER compensating and reigning my calorific intake in so much that I end up with less nutrition on my plate than you’d find in one of those little, green caterpillars that I used to love when I was a small child. Moreover, my weight (a fortnight ago) is pretty much the same as it was when I left The Priory.

Before I crack open a bottle, I have to admit that I was still considerably underweight when I discharged myself from the hospital, AND, my diet has been less than ‘healthy’. I won’t go into that right now, suffice to say that I still have so far to go if I am to continue this uncertain path of something like recovery.

When I came out of hospital I began to give serious consideration to my situation. A situation that left rather a lot to be desired (and yep, that is in the literal sense).

I took stock.

I’m 40.

I’ve lost my teaching career. I live back at home. I don’t have a relationship. I have no children. I probably won’t ever have that as this illness destroys all kinds of natural processes, and the body is clever enough to redirect all its resources away from ‘unnecessary’ things like reproduction, the usual hormonal changes, skin and bone health, whatever… just in order to keep your heart beating.

Stradivarius eat your heart out, right?


Seriously. This is not a great situation. But then Anorexia will do that to you.

Anorexia will take all you’ve ever valued, all you’ve worked for, ached for, bled, sweated and cried for… Worse, it’ll take all that COULD BE, and it’ll rub away, like an eraser on the same piece of paper, until it finally destroys all your could haves and all your would be’s.

That’s why, I came up with PIE.

A simple recipe for something that might look like a life..

It’s hard going, and I’m writing now because it’s all about to get harder (I think). But that’s why I need to keep reminding myself (and any other ED sufferers) that whatever battle lies ahead, it just CAN’T be as bad as the constant torture of Anorexia. The torment of eating a little more CAN’T match the constant turmoil of bargaining with the illness, running though sum after sum, compromising with the darkness, allowing it to deny us TIME and TIME again. (I’m writing this praying it’s true). The opaque sense of flimsy truth is so hard to FEEL, and yet it’s all I have if the next six months is to look different again. That’s why I’m going to carry on reversing the pattern, adding to my plate, painfully bending the bars of the cage I’m in.

That’s enough on the matter for now. This is already so much longer than I intended it to be.

The pie will keep.


At thirty, I would have things mostly sorted. I mean, I would probably be settled down somewhere, I’d have a good circle of friends and a supportive and engaging church community.  I’d meet the man who could be my best friend for life and therefore be in a stable relationship and I’d have a challenging but fulfilling career.

At forty, I would be a fully grown woman.Although being middle-aged was a very hazy notion, I suppose I had something of an idea that by this point, I’d definitely at peace with myself. I would be content with my lot, and wise in to the ways of the world. I’d have worked abroad with my other half…. perhaps doing some sort of mission work. I’d be established in a teaching career of some kind. I’d certainly have written a couple of books, and maybe have kids or fostered for a while.

I shudder now at the assured faith of my younger self; my blind faith in the power of adulthood.

I think I must have believed that at key points in my life, there would be some sort of ‘latest update’ that would magically download and install overnight. It’d equip me with new software to enhance my resilience, bug fixes, small but significant improvements to my system. Just like the skin care products which companies like L’Oreal and Garnier so thoughtfully tailor to suit the relevant decade of a woman’s life, I thought I’d somehow just be able to apply certain elements to my life. Elements which would be suited to my age and stage… and again, like the miracle face creams, le28099oreal-paris-anti-imperfections-plus-whitening-cream-for-20-review4these would hopefully just get a bit richer as I got older.

I guess I might have believed that I’d still battle depression, but in my naivety, by late thirties, I would have gained victory over it, managing the dark hours with a quiet stoicism, helping others learn to do the same. Anxiety would probably always be present, but by forty, it really wouldn’t have any significant impact on my life. I’d have learned to combat it using my faith, my wisdom, a range of relaxation techniques and possibly my ole’ friend Pregabalin.

Whatever I imagined, one thing I wouldn’t have believed, is that at the ripened age of forty, I would be sitting in a hospital bedroom, typing a blog about Anorexia.

Nor would I have believed that by the time I got to this grand old age, a whole decade of my life would have been hungrily devoured by the same illness that would starve me to the point of death and leave me with the body of a malnourished child.

I’ve been an inpatient for almost nine weeks now..

You’d think by the time I’d endured four different inpatient admissions and three rounds of day treatment, I’d have got used to the agonies of refeeding. Think again. If anything it’s tougher this time than ever. Not that I’m in a different hospital than ever before, and not that my fellow patients aren’t amazing people who I feel privileged to meet. No… more perhaps that each period of recovery seems to ask for more energy than the one previous to it. It seems to demand more bravery, more patience, a higher pain threshold, more nerve.

At risk of sounding discouraging, I think that the longer a person suffers with an eating disorder, the older they get, the more entrenched it becomes and thus the harder it is to recover from. If there is anyone reading here who is suffering with an ED and is considering getting help, I urge you, please, GET HELP.  Do it before it gets worse. Do it before next week, or next month or your next birthday… Do it now and buy back some time because honestly, it might seem unimaginable, but this illness will sink into you until you are saturated. It sinks in a little deeper with each passing minute and before you can wring yourself out, it’ll rinse you of your strength.

The less time you tolerate this illness, the less time it will need you to fight it and the more of your soul you can save.

Get help.



Although I rarely mention it in my writing here, my faith is one aspect of my life which I think would fundamentally change the very essence of my being were it to completely disappear. In truth, my spiritual journey, much like my therapy journey, has been a challenging mixture of blindness and revelations; of soaring and stumbling; and of denials and acceptances.Image

 I’ve been in places of unshakeable certainty, unable to understand how anyone could ever question such a tangible God. In later life, there have been times when I’ve swallowed bitterly as depression and the weary despair and fatigue that accompanies it, flecked inky pools of indifference and doubt across any conviction that I once had.

At this point on the journey, I stand on a different mountain, overlooking a very different landscape.
A part of me draws some strength from the inner sense that God stands with me.
This acknowledgement of ‘a higher power’ seems to play a crucial role in recovery. AA refer to the ‘higher power’, as do a range of other successful addiction recovery programs; the theory being that as human beings, we are often weak willed and for all our good intentions, cannot free ourselves from the power of ingrained behaviours and habits. We need to draw on a strength that is not ‘from’ us, but is outside of us.

A part of me worries as I consider how God is referred to in the 12 step programs.
Does it not all sound a little bit ‘God-as-hole-in-the-wall’ ish?
I’m not sure.


What I do know is that right now, I find myself knocking on heaven’s door morning, noon and night, asking for supernatural strength with which to fight the Anorexic howling which coarses through my mind interminably.
I pray as I sit down to eat my snacks, my meals and as I battle the urges to spit my food out after chewing it.