My life with ANA.

Anorexia is a psychiatric diagnosis that describes an eating disorder characterized by low body weight and body image distortion with an obsessive fear of gaining weight.  Anorexia is a life threatening condition that can put a serious strain on many of the body’s organs and physiological resources. It puts a particular strain on the structure and function of the heart and cardiovascular system, with slow heart rate (bradycardia) and elongation of the QT interval seen early on. People with anorexia typically have a disturbed electrolyte balance, particularly low levels of phosphate, which has been linked to heart failure, muscle weakness, immune dysfunction, and ultimately death. Those who develop anorexia before adulthood may suffer stunted growth and subsequent low levels of essential hormones (including sex hormones) and chronically increased cortisol levels. Osteoporosis can also develop as a result of anorexia in 38-50% of cases, as poor nutrition leads to the retarded growth of essential bone structure and low bone mineral density.

So, I was worse that that picture.
At my worst I was five stone. Seventy pounds. My BMI was 13.7, and I thought I was fat.
I’d eat a slice of dry toast a day, and sometimes not even that. I’d tremble when I walked because my muscles were wasting and couldn’t support me. My hair broke off, my nails were brittle and my head felt fuzzy all the time. I’d drink water with lemon juice in it to kill the noise my stomach was making. I could feel it sloshing around. I took drugs because they suppressed my appetite.
The one thought that kept me going was that soon I’d be thin enough and then everything would be perfect.
But at five stone, not only did I feel like a failure at regular things, I also felt like I was failing at being anorexic. I’d come home and look at pictures of girls who were three or four stone, and I’d be jealous.
You must understand that anorexia is an illness. It warps your perception.
I was getting straight A’s, and I couldn’t understand why this wasn’t enough.
Then one day, after four and a half years of starving myself, I got really really ill. I had pneumonia and next to no immune system left to fight it off.
I was bedridden for three months, then just as I was coming out of that, I got measles on top of it. I thought I was going to die.
Measles can be fatal, or lead to disability. Pneumonia can be fatal to those with a weakened immune system.
I was like a zombie for the five months my body tried to heal itself.
My mum fed me every day.
And when I came out of the illness, I realised a fundamental thing.
I wasn’t ready to die.

I stopped taking drugs.
I stopped making myself throw up.
I gained weight.
And I hated myself for every pound I put on.

The thing about anorexia is that you’re in constant recovery, and constant fear of relapse. It isn’t like being an alcoholic or a junkie; in many ways physical addictions are easier to cure. You just avoid the thing you’re addicted to. Food is constantly there. Waiting for you to sit down and eat. Fill your stomach, feed the creature that lives inside it. 
And that is so hard.
I still struggle with that, and a big part of me is afraid that I always will…
Anorexia has left me some reminders. Here are a few of them:
1) I have very fine hair all over my body because my body was trying to keep me warm while my organs started shutting down
2) I have brittle bones, so I can’t do contact sports
3) I have to get up and go to the loo at almost every single mealtime, because I am now programmed to go throw up whatever I have eaten
4) I have zero self esteem. I can hardly stand to look in the mirror.
5) My eating habits are appalling. I forget to eat, I have binge and starve cycles, most of what I eat tastes like ash because I don’t want to allow myself to taste it properly in case I eat too much of it.
6) I battle constantly against myself, arguing in favour of not eating even though I know I should
7) I count calories all the time.
8) I will never grow taller than five foot because I killed my growth cells.

Nowadays I have a healthy BMI of 21.6..
Writing that sentence makes me want to give up eating again. It sounds massive to me.
But I know I have nothing to complain about.
I’m five foot high, and I weigh about eight stone.
That isn’t the end of the world.
But it feels like it.
But I’m reminding myself its not.

Something in this world needs to change.
Anorexia shouldn’t be a vital part of growing up.
It shouldn’t even be a choice.
It has ruined so many lives, and will continue to unless we do something about it.
About the way we see ourselves.

I am so grateful that I’ve been given a second chance at my life.
I don’t want to waste it thinking about my demons.
But I had to write this all down.
So you’d see.
And you’d understand.

I have never had a love like this  before.
You inspire me, and you give me hope for my future.
A future where this won’t be hanging over me.
One day, I’d like to sit down to a meal with you and not worry about the consequences on my figure.

This is me.
Today. 20/08/10 @ 16.04.
I’m trying to be proud of who I am now.
But its hard..