Again and again I hear my friends who share the fight of living with an eating disorder upset about yet another idiot who wants to be ‘just like them’..
I wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy. But I think I would love these idiots to at least spend a day in our shoes. So I thought I’d try and recapture a day in mine.
03.15am
I’ve slept for an hour. I can never seem to stay asleep for more than an hour at a stretch. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to go back to sleep. My throat and chest are burning, screaming – reflux. I try and sleep more upright, but the acid still burns it’s way up.
“GET UP! GET THE F**K OUT OF BED UGLY B*TCH!”
Oh shut up Ed. leave me alone. I don’t want to get up. I’m starving hungry and you want me to binge. You want me to rub my nose in my disgusting lack of control. You want to steal more sleep from me? Bingeing will take hours – the preparation, the cleanup, and in between.. ugh. Go away.
“I F**KING SAID GET UP. NO SECOND CHANCES.”
The anxiety is bubbling up and I’m finding it hard to breathe properly. My heart is pounding. The acid is burning more than ever. My stomach is roiling, hungry, growling, but the liquid from my last drink before bed swishes around and then up with the acid burn like a radioactive wave in my throat.
I get up.
Into the kitchen, survey the fridge. I’m not allowed to binge unless I eat safer stuff first, not that anything at all is safe.. I grab some carrots and some fruit, but they have to be scalded. Boil the kettle, pour the water over the fruit and veg. Peel and chop and layer in order – they must be eaten in order.
What else? I have to be careful. If I eat too much, I’ll run out towards the end of the week. If I run out, I’ll find myself panicking endlessly and likely to shoplift. I can’t risk that. I want bread, I grab some, it has to be wholemeal. It has to be toasted, because that makes it ‘safe’. I chop and toast it, then i have to boil water to dip it into.
My binges have to be ‘finished off’ with something that feels like a hot meal to me, so I cook up half a pack of pasta until it’s slimy and cover it with boiled tomato sauce. It all looks really disgusting.
The next few hours are lost hours. Eat the carrots. Purge. Eat the fruit. Purge. Bread, with purging. Pasta with purging. Then drink and purge, drink and purge, drink and purge, drink and purge, until you are dizzy and your throat is sore and you are falling over.. it has to be out. Even a slight bit of carrot is not safe.
07.18am
“STUPID UGLY FAT BITCH. NO SELF CONTROL. DISGUSTING. TRULY DISGUSTING. THAT IS ANOTHER FEW KILOS OF LARD ON YOUR BUTT. YOU ARE SO LAZY. ALL YOU DO IS SLEEP. GO ON. GO BACK TO BED. NORMAL PEOPLE GET UP AT THIS HOUR. ARE ALREADY UP. PEOPLE WHO DO THINGS. WHO CONTRIBUTE TO THE WORLD. WHO DON’T SLOTH AROUND ALL DAY LIKE YOU DO. SPONGE. LAZY FAT SPONGE.”
I have to sleep. I’m so tired. I have to get up later – have to see my case manager in just over 3 hours. And i can’t be tired, can’t be falling asleep on her. I’m always so tired. And now even more drained from the bingeing and purging.
“LAZY TURD”
11.00am
Tumbling out of bed, bleary eyed, oh so sore. Still feeling weak, still feeling so tired. Only really dozed all morning. I have half an hour to be dressed and at my case manager’s office and I’m just aching and as slow as a snail. i can’t seem to get my eyes open – they stick at half mast.
Into the bathroom with a handful of random clothes. Where i encounter our friend the mirror. Not a friend.
“FAT LARD ARSE. LOOK AT THAT! HOW COULD YOU? LOOK WHAT YOU DID TO YOURSELF. YOU NEVER WERE EVEN SKINNY AND YOU WENT AND PUT ALL THAT ON! AND YOU ARE GAINING! EVERY DAY YOU ARE FATTER! GET ON THE SCALE, WHAT IS THE DAMAGE?”
I obey. 46kg.
“YOU FAT FAT FAT FAT F**K! IT’S JUST GOING UP AND UP! YOU HAVE TO STOP BINGEING. YOU HAVE TO STOP EATING FULL STOP. YOU ARE SUCH A GREEDY COW! OTHER PEOPLE DON’T BINGE ALL THE TIME! HOW CAN YOU LET YOURSELF GO SO BADLY? HOW COULD YOU LET YOURSELF BE SO SOFT AND PUDGY AND HUMAN? YOU AREN’T HUMAN! YOU ARE A MONSTER, HOW DARE YOU HOW DARE YOU HOW DARE YOU?”
I jump in the shower and roughly soap myself down, tears streaming. it’s as hot as it will go – I’m dirty. I’m always dirty. I scrub out my mouth and turn the water off. Scrub myself down, rub on deodorant, jam my false teeth in my mouth. Go to moisturise my face, itching from the hot water – it’s a fight. That’s indulgent. But I win with the sunscreen. It would have me die as horribly as possible, but an illness might cheat it out of the sole power to torment me. I think it enjoys it.
11.15am
Having pulled on my shoes I am dashing down the road. My legs are KILLING me. I have stress fractures in both femurs from osteoporosis and I’m not meant to be doing this, I’m meant to stick to walking. But I have to make it on time.
I just make it.
11.30am
“I’m good, thanks..”
“It’s really really hard.. yes okay actually I’m really depressed… more depressed than ever. I’m still bingeing. Shoplifting is a problem. I hate myself so much. I don’t think I can do this anymore. I just can’t cope, this is just too much. I’m so tired…”
“Yes thanks… I know I’ve come a long way! And I know I can do this. Things are so much better aren’t they! I’ve maintained my weight and stayed out of hospital! Yes, it’s a miracle and I’m so thankful! Life is so good!”
To her credit, she helps me a LOT. Developing coping strategies and she listens. But I feel that everyone sees the outside – the fatter girl, who is doing just fine, and likes to have a whine..
12.45pm
“YOU FAT ARSEHOLE. HOW DARE YOU SAY YOU NEEDED HELP. AT LEAST YOU BACKED DOWN. I’M GLAD YOU SAID YOU HATE YOU. I HATE YOU. I HATE YOU I HATE YOU. AND YOU ARE FAT. FAT FAT FAT. GET YOUR BUTT GOING. IT’S TIME TO WALK. MOVE IT!”
It’s been ordered by the physiotherapist that I get out and walk around every single day without fail. Now she didn’t mean the kind of flogging myself I am doing. I’m tired, my stomach is growling, my legs are aching, my back is aching (I’m still not quite strong enough to hold my posture for more than a short period though it is a lot better than it was).
I drop home and change my clothes, and I’m out by the hour.
1.00pm
“FAT UGLY STUPID BITCH
FAT UGLY STUPID BITCH
FAT UGLY STUPID BITCH
MOVE IT MOVE IT MOVE THAT BUTT
GET THAT ARSE MOVING WORK THAT FAT
FAT UGLY STUPID BITCH
I HATE YOU I HATE YOU
HOW COULD YOU HOW COULD YOU
FAT FAT FAT BITCH FAT FAT FAT BITCH
MOVE IT MOVE IT GET UP OFF THAT BUM AND MOVE IT….”
it’s a harder day, often when I walk, I can shut it up temporarily, because I’m ‘doing the right thing’. But on days like this, it’s all i hear, in time to my steps, like yes, a drill sergeant. Loud and fast and scornful and hateful and the faster it screams the faster i must walk. I’m out of breath, my legs are screaming, my back too, but there is no option – not at all.
3.15pm
Home again.. i crash into the shower, hot, sweaty, exhausted. When i’m out, my cat is weaving in and out of my legs. She’s been cuddling up to me whenever i’m home, but i’m so preoccupied. i feel like shit. her life sucks and it’s all my fault. I owe her a better life.
3.30pm
I grab Shalimar’s lead and together we go out across the road to the church grounds. She’s in heaven. I’m struggling to stay awake, my feet and legs burn, I have to shuffle as standing hurts so much. Hot and tired and sore. But seeing my cat in her favorite setting is worth it. I stay as long as I can despite how I feel, which is not long enough – and i’m berating myself when I have to pick her up and take her back, Shalimar meowing to stay longer.
4.30pm
I’ve scalded a hunk of cabbage and some pumpkin, shoved them in a pot, topped them with frozen mixed vegies and into the oven they go. In a bowl I chop scalded watermelon, oranges, and apples. The carrots are scalded and set aside in a drainer. And at last i can go back to bed. Oh, blissful bed.
5.30pm
“GET THE F**K OUT OF BED. WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”
It’s so hard to wake up. I could stay here all night. If I stayed here, I wouldn’t binge. I could sleep. I want to sleep so badly. I cant remember when I last actually slept properly. But that would wreck things. That would leave me hanging. I’m scared, I can’t cope. It’s nearly night time. The anxiety is revving up. The day is nearly over. Everyone’s going home. I’m scared… stupid me. Because I’m safe. Trepidation. Snakes in stomach.
I get up and turn on the computer, log onto the net. Distraction. Turn on the TV too. Immerse myself in the world of the web and bad telly, as it tugs on me and my head whirls.. I can’t think straight, I’m shaking. I need food – my body is telling me it’s ravenous. My gut is telling me I’m terrified, I can’t cope.. I just can’t cope.
10.00pm approximately
And I binge. And purge. And binge. And purge. And all that disgusting stuff. The kitchen is a mess. I’m trying to wash up as I go, but it’s a mess. I have to clean up and try… I’m so tired…
02.30am
I fall into bed. Rinse, Repeat. In an hour, it will start again.
I’m sorry things are so hard. That doesn’t sound like a fun day at all
People are crazy to want this.
I’m so sorry you have to go through it.
Thank you for writing it though. It’s really interesting to see what other peoples days are like
Thank you so much. I wrote it thinking, I know most people reading my blog have their own little voice, and that sometimes it can get hellishly mean. So I knew you’d understand xx
oh hun
virtual hugs to you! you’re right. people are crazy for wanting this. i’m so glad that you are fighting it tooth, claw, nail, tail, all the way! it also shows just how different each person experiences an ED. i might do a similar post if you don’t mind. my docs always refer to me as “high functioning” because i still work, despite fuzziness, incompetence and hiding in the locker room shower for hours at a time, but most days i just wish i could give up and give in and not be so intent on remaining perfect and “high functioning”. but you are right. one day, we will beat this. xo.
I would love to read your post about your experiences! I was discussing what was going on in our minds with another friend with ED the other day, and her voice was totally different to mine, and just as devastating in it’s own way.
xxx
I admire you for the hard work and perseverance it would take to be ‘high functioning’ and agree it would be so hard, to be suffering under the facade and have people not see that when you DID need them to. Sometimes i look at myself and think, I really dropped the ball here. Compared to most people, I’ve just given up, not kept trying to actually function.
Yup we will beat this. Cos we can
This is so sad and hurting to read. I mean I was there. I can’t imagine anyone wanting something like this, BUT I once wished to have an ED to be slim and “beautiful”
Boy I was wrong.
I wish you better days, my friend. Love yourself as much as you can. You know, that I do
I wish you never went down that path and I’m so glad you are alive now, and in recovery, despite it still hanging around in your thoughts. And i don’t think you are like the people I meant when I was talking about those who ‘wanted’ it. You didn’t know you were headed for a disorder. They KNOW about anorexia, know it’s an illness, know what it entails – and still want it. That’s sick :’(
I wish you better days too, and they will happen for us both *hugs* xxx
Hi Fiona,
Thank you for sharing a “typical day” with us. I remember Ed. Being very strongly opinionated and constantly screaming at me. I’m so glad to not have even a whisper of Ed anymore. I can’t believe anyone would want a life with an Ed. I guess they don’t know the reality of it, and Eds are glamourised by the media in many ways. I felt the urge to write a response to the Nasty Drill Sergeant. I used to write this kind of thing all the time when I was recovering and I found it helped. Different things work for different people and I’m not 100% sure of your coping strategies but I just felt like I needed to write this…
To Ed – Nasty Drill Sergeant,
Since you are so mean and like giving orders – do not expect any politeness in this letter to you.
I do not appreciate the way you speak to my friend, Fiona. You constantly tell her lies, demand she does as you say, and don’t have her best interests at heart. You are verbally and physically abusive and don’t seem to hear the message – GO AWAY!!!
I want to dispute some of the things you are telling my friend. Firstly, you seem to think you have the right to interrupt Fiona’s sleep. And not only do you interrupt, you scream at her. What gives you the right to do this? You are NOT Fiona’s friend. Friends do not treat each other this way. Friends do not speak to each other this way.
You are extremely bossy. Food is meant to be enjoyed. Food does not have to be eaten in a certain order. There is no safe or unsafe food. Food is food! And food is meant to be enjoyed. Why do you get so much enjoyment out of creating rules around food? Obviously, you don’t have a life and you are trying to steal Fiona’s. And why do you demand that binges have to be finished off with something so unappealing. Seriously!!
So, not only do you wake Fiona up and demand she gets up and binges and purges in the middle of the night until she is dizzy and falling over – you then demand she gets up just a short time later. Can you please explain why sleeping is “truly disgusting”? Sleep is a need of all human beings. Sleeping and reenergising does NOT make you lazy.
Let me get this straight – you wake Fiona at 3.15am and keep her up carrying out your demands and then she’s lazy for not getting up at 7.18am. You steal her energy and her physical health and then call her lazy for not being able to “contribute to the world”. HELLO!! This just illustrates what a NASTY, MEAN, DEMANDING F*CKWIT YOU ARE!!! You are responsible for preventing Fiona from living her life!
Now you stupid F*CKWIT – I have a problem with what you tell my friend when she looks in the mirror. You demand she weighs herself, tell her 46kg is fat and then go off your nut about the binge that YOU woke Fiona up and DEMANDED she do at 3.15am. You make no sense – Stupid Sergeant F*ckwit!! If you’re going to give orders, at least give ones that are consistent! You are not human. But Fiona is. She is not the monster here. YOU ARE!!! You say how dare she? How dare she not? You were pretty mean at 3.15am and it doesn’t sound like you gave her much choice.
You’re selfish too. You just don’t want Fiona asking for help because you know you are going down. You know she sees your lies for what they are and she is getting stronger. Eventually, she’ll be rid of you and you will be no more. You are screaming because more and more often Fiona blocks you out. You used to only have to whisper derogatory comments to get her to do your bidding. Now, you’re afraid you’re losing your power so you’ve gotten louder. Well, I’ve got news for you – you are on your way down. You can scream and yell, swear and carry on. But Fiona is determined to live her life. And her living means that you will cease to exist – like an animal that has become extinct. You’ll be a part of Fiona’s history but not a part of her present or future. So, to finish off with I’m going to give you a few demands. Why not? Why are you the only one who can demand things?
Stop talking to Fiona the way you do. They are lies and no one likes being friend with someone who’s constantly putting them down.
Let Fiona go. She wants to be free of you. Stop screaming. You’ve had 15 years of her life. Surely that is enough.
Stop giving mixed messages. Even better – stop giving any messages at all. Fiona doesn’t want to hear anything you have to say.
Accept your impending extinction and PISS OFF! Fiona will gladly accept your resignation. You may as well resign. She’s only going to fire you anyway!!!
Finally, I don’t miss you. I am happy. I am loved. I am free to love. I am free. More and more people are fighting their Ed and winning. So perhaps you should just leave all those people you’ve been messing with along. You are losing the battles.
From Lyndall – Recovered Anorexic.
And finally, to Fiona…
You are a beautiful, unique child of God. Your friends love you for what’s on the inside and out.
You are not fat. You are Fiona-size. I am Lyndall-size. We are all different shapes and sizes. Love your body. It’s the only one you’ve got.
You are deserving of help. There’s nothing wrong with reaching out to those around us for support and encouragement when we need it.
Keep fighting Ed. It’s not an easy journey. It seems to get harder before it gets easier. But it is possible and you have made progress.
When feeling overwhelmed remember your friends who are no longer controlled by Ed. Not only am I not controlled by it, I don’t even hear whispers. I am completely free. And you will be too.
Lyndall, you are an amazing, special, precious friend and THANK YOU with all my heart for everything you have said here. I’m rather speechless in a good way… it is confronting reading someone say that to something that I thought was part of me… and yet is NOT. Is a parasite, an enemy, and GOING, fired, rejected.
Did you know you are my inspiration? I keep telling myself, every single day, Lyndall beat Ed. Lyndall is LIVING now. Lyndall IS completely FREE. Not partly free. Not managing it.
FREE.
And i know how much a stranglehold ED was for you, back then.
I know its possible for me to be FREE too, because YOU have shown me it’s possible and that it is WORTH IT.
I have faith that there is something beyond all this, like the view from the mountain top that we know is there but cannot see til we have climbed up enough to see it. We don’t give up and stop climbing and say it’s not there because we can’t see it from lower down the mountain. No, we get stuck into climbing!
I know God created me with a future – a future that He means for ME to live, and that He has endless hope in store for me too.
I don’t know what that future is, or where I might find it. But I have faith now. I didn’t have faith 15 years ago. i didn’t have hope either.
i know I am not a minion, not a pawn. I do not have resign myself to being a playing piece in a game played by ED. I know i do not have to accept it’s lies.
God has fashioned me an armour from the TRUTH. God wants me to throw the lies to Him. He destroys lies. And His truth protects me.
I love that you said, i am Fiona sized and you are Lyndall sized!! I have to remember what i’ve been busy telling others – that we ARE perfect. As we are. Perfect in our imperfections. That the same creator who made this amazing, beautiful, perfect world we live in – made US – and that is quite a breathtaking thought. The all-time most brilliant artist made me. And I have the gall to say i’m not a good artwork?
How Ed lies.
Lyndall, I am so blessed to have YOU, my friend, my sister. So blessed. Thank you, thank you thank you with all my heart. For loving me, for caring, for being there, for never giving up on me. And most of all for being YOU. Thank you for your encouragement and hope, for reminding me to be furious at the monster that is NOT part of me, and FIGHT it – and to listen to God and the Truth. And I thank God for using you to deliver to me so powerful a message.
Love you so very very very very dearly,
Love your sister Fiona xxxxxx
fiona, i love you! with all of my heart!
you’ve captured something that is a distant memory for me, something that i don’t ever want to forget. thank you, from the bottom of my cold heart, for writing this post.
i don’t feel that this should be password protected. yes, we have an obligation to our readers, to our blog friends; but we also have an obligation to ourselves to be completely honest, to help others via our words, through sharing of our experiences. there is nothing wrong with sharing these items with the world, in my opinion.
and that, my friend, is exactly your contribution to this world. it is MY contribution. it is greta’s contribution. it is the contribution of others and to others who are finding paths out of this mess. for so long, i also thought that my life was useless, a waste. but i was wrong. and the blog has made me realise THAT.
you do not have your natural teeth? i would like to know more about that. i wrote a post called, “bulimic gums” (or something of that sort, you can link to it from my main blog page). i am fortunate that my teeth didn’t fall out, and i am so very much wanting to know about what happened to yours. i can guess, surely, (bacteria, periodontitis, etcetera), but i’d like to hear about your story specifically.
you are my beautiful friend, and i’m so happy that you’re in my life. shalimar, too. sweet shalimar! x
I’m so happy that you are in my life, too, Nicole. It was meant to be that we met!! You inspire me so much, you make me smile, you remind me every time you post that life is out there! And yes, your contribution to this world is so very precious. I don’t believe anything happens for no reason – and your reason for being here was to spread hope in this way. I believe my reason is to spread hope too – by beating this and showig it can be done. just as Lyndall has done. And Greta. And so many of us. With eating disorders people tend to focus on the sufferers. I think we need to focus more on those who are living beyond and despite it!!
I didn’t put this publicly because i agonised over it being triggering, but more so recently i was told by a friend here, that there are groupies, patients at the same hospital I went to who idolized my ed… can you believe that? They saw the hell I went through and they idolized it? So despite the reality being horrible.. I was worried about people using it as something to aspire to in a dark, emo way – a pathetic, sick possibility, but it’s happened, so…
But I’m thinking of making it public now – thank you for your advice.
My teeth. Funnily enough, they started going before I ever vomited. They started crumbling for the same reasons as my bones – lack of nutrition. i had a chipped front tooth and that seemed to be the spot where it all started crumbling from, then the ones around it. So i have four top missing teeth and the rest are so brittle, the bottom ones are transparent, the top ones are full of holes. I am thankful for the dentures as my self esteem plunged with the gappy mouth – but I can’t really stand the feeling of anything IN my mouth, so they are only for show. I’m lucky to have them though.
Thank you so much for being a special friend. I heart you and Gwendolyn so much xxx
It’s so funny how everyone’s ED voice is different. Mine doesn’t necessarily yell at me all the time so it doesn’t seem as mean but mine is more of the sneaky, manipulative, condescending sort of voice which is worse for me. It’s sort of like that “friend” who your parents think is a bad influence because they are always encouraging you to do “bad” things, stupid things, or things you don’t really want to do and nags you until you give in. It’s very calm, persuasive, and sort of nice until I am about to go against what it wants. Then it switches tactics and becomes strict or slightly mean, using orders/demands, ridicule or threats. And when I do mess up, it becomes very mean, “yells”, and that’s when the name calling really starts. It’s so interesting to hear what other people’s ED voices sound like. Thanks for sharing. Maybe I’ll do a post on what a typical day for me is like after finals are over.
The ed has so many faces!! I would love to read a typical day for you. Hope you go well in your finals xxx
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‘…But I feel that everyone sees the outside – the fatter girl, who is doing just fine, and likes to have a whine..’
This is totally me. I don’t have Anorexia, the rational side of my brain thinks “thank god” but the Eating Disoder side thinks “They’re achieving what you can’t”, so i can understand why people with other Eating Disorders WANT to be anorexic, but it’s irrational, obviously, because no one could ever want the torture you suffer through each day. You’re such a brave person for writing this post and i am so grateful for reading this – it’s reminding my ED that the grass isn’t always greener on the other side
xx
I’m glad you can relate, Emma! You might not have anorexia as a clinical diagnosis – but you do have an eating disorder/body image problems/disordered eating – you are living the hell that comes with food and body problems. And while deep down most of the time they aren’t really about the food and weight – they still cause so much body anguish. I was briefly nearly overweight for a short period in my late teens after I went through a period of comfort eating – it was on my mind all day constantly how excruciating my weight was, how if only I lost it, I would be a better person, my whole LIFE would be much better, all my problems would be fixed, etc etc etc. None of that was true, but my focus was totally on my weight dictating who I was and how my life was. I felt like a failure for being not at all skinny, i envied those who WERE. So I guess I can understand it too. But I did not know about the torture those girls went through, then, so yes, the grass is definitely not greener on either side. It’s hell whatever weight we are. I guess part of the disorder is the feeling that if only WE met our (unrealistic) expectations, everything would be fixed. Weight has become the cure all for our problems just as food has become our drug, because we can’t face them otherwise.
Thank you so much for making me think about this… I hope the above makes sense.. it’s really a stream of thought in response to your comment… so thank you for a thought provoking comment xxx
[...] and Shalimar – Fiona has written my favourite post of all time (here). It has opened my eyes to the difficulties of Anorexia like nothing before and she has [...]
Oh Fiona, I am speechless. It sounds like your ED and my ED are related. They are mean bastards. ♥
Time to be mean back to them <3
[...] thoughts were only fleeting, Fiona’s incredible post really took me out of that disordered way of thinking and into the real world – I don’t want to [...]
[...] evil and unworthy and ugly I am. How lazy and selfish and stupid. I would love to be free of the Ed Drill Sergeant for even one [...]
[...] of the time I yell at her – drill sergeant style – a tone that brooks no disobedience. But when I sense she’s at the end of her tether, [...]
[...] I not eat, that I exercise more. I didn’t even really hear the demands at first – later it was like something screaming inside my head. There never was a choice not to do those things – they were what had to be done, and there were [...]