I think of anorexia as a bit like ivy. In the same way that ivy works itself so well into a wall, that you don’t realise what a good job it’s done until you try to remove it, anorexia creeps into everything. It takes up all your space. Anorexia edges into the existing vulnerabilities that […]
There has been growing debate about the usefulness of mental health professionals sharing their own lived experience of psychological distress. As a social worker with my own mental health label, this naturally interests me. I have written about the difficulty of being on ‘both sides of the desk‘, and the tension between my professional role, […]
This post was submitted anonymously. The writer sensitively describes how she understands her difficulties with eating in the context of a wider psychological formulation.
I always say no one chooses an eating disorder, but a part of me definitely thinks it’s somehow ‘my fault’. I especially think it’s my fault for still being stuck with it at this stage. I know better, I should be able to do better. I am sure at least some people in my life think this too. I thought recovery would be relatively easy. That the reason it hadn’t happened so far is because I chose not to rather than couldn’t. Once I acknowledged to myself – and others – that actually, I’m not ok, I expected I’d just be able to drop the restriction, manage the guilt, the thoughts. I’ve discovered over the last few months that (even with great support from professionals, family and friends) it really doesn’t work like that. Recovery seems to be less about ‘letting go’ and more about wrestling your way out of something you’re so entangled in you have no real idea where you end and it begins. Continue reading
As anyone who follows me on Twitter will be all too aware, I’ve recently been banging on about the aspects of mental health care that are working well, and asking people to share their experiences. Maybe the people I follow on social media just grumble a lot, maybe we only hear stories of fault and failing in the press, but whatever the reason, we need to correct the balance. Good things do happen, every day, we just don’t hear about it. And when we do, it’s all too often through an avenue that makes us sceptical.
To begin, I’ve gathered together a few comments I received yesterday. This reflects one day, a couple of Twitter requests. They aren’t dramatic but they reflect the difference services (both statutory and voluntary) make and the commitment and care of staff who often work with extremely limited resources and are individuals, like anyone, with their own lives and ‘stuff’ going on too.
If you’re recovering from an eating disorder and are underweight, you really can’t get away from the fact that weight gain is an inevitable part of the process. It’s definitely the most ‘visible’ part, and often the element that people focus on most. At the same time, we often hear that it’s really not about the weight. It’s true that weight gain alone definitely won’t fix everything, although it may shift some of the rigidity that is secondary to ‘starvation’. But the uncomfortable truth is that for me at least, gaining weight may make some things worse, before they improve. This may not be the case for everyone, and I’m definitely not saying it isn’t worth it.
Opening up, reducing the amount of compartmentalising we do, it’s massive in eating disorder recovery.
My husband came to my therapy session this week. This is HUGE. A friend commented that the degree of anxiety it caused me is quite telling. What is so difficult about having my husband, who I share the entirety of my life with, sitting in the same room as my therapist and talking about my eating disorder. I don’t know. It is just not something I have EVER done. I have always tried to manage things myself. It’s my issue, after all.
For a long time I’ve had a habit of keeping things separate, without even really realising it. Especially, but not solely, when it comes to eating and weight. I recognise this is about protecting myself, but it is also about protecting others from things I feel they are either unable to, or shouldn’t have to, cope with. Sometimes, sharing seems unnecessary, not because I want to hold things back (though sometimes I do) but because it feels like the most responsible option. I have also worked very hard over the years to function and keep going, and I definitely do not see myself as a ‘patient’ or someone who is very ‘unwell’. I don’t want other people to view me as that – or certainly not as only that either. Continue reading