One year ago I walked into the Doctors for my first appointment about my eating disorder. That sentence makes me sound far more chill than I was. I am now, I was not at the time; I snot cried before leaving my flat then sat waiting for my appointment with sweaty palms and a pounding heart. I didn’t know if I was going to be able to talk when I got in the treatment room, or sit in silence, or maybe I’d open my mouth and vomit instead. I wasn’t really sure if I was sat there for me or the people around me but I also hadn’t got any better ideas. At the time I didn’t think I really had a problem, I was just aware that the people around me thought I wasn’t eating enough (which, begrudgingly, I could recognise was true) and I didn’t really know how to eat more by myself. I felt silly, I felt embarrassed, I felt undeserving of help. Having an issue with food felt ridiculous, especially as a swimmer, with a half-decent knowledge of nutrition and heavy training load by any standards.
I didn’t think of myself as with an eating disorder at the time. I wasn’t anorexic or bulimic, I couldn’t make myself throwing up even if I wanted to (I hate throwing up), and I didn’t think I was “skinny enough”. I was eating less than I should, sure, but still too much to have an eating disorder. Besides, how could I have an eating disorder if I still had the energy to train 2/4/6 hours a day? (Spoiler: you can’t without great cost at the expense of your mental and physical health.)
I hugely misjudged what an eating disorder was, didn’t realise how much it was affecting my life, didn’t think anything of the fact that I was obsessing over every single bite that went into my mouth. (What was it? How many calories was that? Should I eat that? How much had I eaten that day? What if I just had half of it? Should I eat it now or save it for when I REALLY needed it? Did I really need it at all?) I thought I was ‘just struggling a little with food’ but that I’d snap out of it soon. I was very wrong.
It started as ‘just struggling a little with food’ but gradually became something more serious. (That’s not to say that ‘just struggling a little with food’ isn’t something you should seek help about; it is. If you were having persistent headaches you’d probably still go to the Doctors, even though you knew that some people somewhere had worse headaches – mental health shouldn’t be any different.)
I’m not sure exactly how long I’d had a problem… I’d dipped in and out of obsessing over my intake for longer than I’m willing to admit, even now. But it took me about 2 months to accept the fact that sorting this was going to go beyond a couple of quick chats, 8 months later I had my last regular appointment with the dietician. 12 months on, numerous tears over pancakes or pasta, and another trip to the Doctors later I sit here writing this, not quite okay with everything, but okay with where I am right now.
Ironically, trying to exercise some control over my life when I felt like it was spiralling out of control was part of the motivation for restricting what I ate/drank, but instead of giving me control my relationship with my intake and myself was now controlling my life.
I was constantly drained, my concentration was poor, I was self-conscious, anxious, miserable. I missed socials, nearly a holiday, I was stressed and distant at meet-ups I did attend. I contributed to minor injuries (and probably prolonged a major one). And I lied. First to myself, and later to the people around me, about what was really going on. Over and over, until now.
Have no fear, I still supplied the cake and curry, even when eating it was tricky.
I guess this post is a confession, to friends and colleagues and course mates and teammates and strangers on the internet. I’m sick of keeping it a secret. I’m not okay every day, or with every meal. I don’t want to invent excuses. Lying isn’t in my nature and it doesn’t help the stigma around eating disorders or mental health in sport. And my god, keeping up the charade is absolutely exhausting.
Difficult days are made a hundred times harder by having to hide the real reason for my worry/stress/sadness. Some days I’d really rather eat in than go to a social for food (when I’m home in control of what goes into my food and how it’s prepared). Sometimes I want to eat alone, sometimes any kind of food/drink stresses me out, occasionally I still I get stomach aches if I leave too long between eating. And sometimes it’s useful for me to push myself outside of my comfort zone, and sometimes it’s counter-productive. I’ve spent a long time hiding the real reasons for my nervousness, in part because I felt it made it easier to deal with, and also because I was embarrassed. But now I’m ready to share, it’s actually easier not to hide it. And I’m not embarrassed; I’m really proud that I can FINALLY see the light, after years in a dark place that I wasn’t convinced I would ever find my way out of.
This post isn’t just for my own benefit. There’s so much I didn’t know before that I wish I had, for the sake of myself, but also those around me. I hope to use that to help someone else, so it probably won’t be the last. I remember how alone I felt coming to terms of where I really was, and sometimes still do. I knew the stats (1.25 million people in the UK are eating disorder sufferers1, in athletes as many as 20% female and 8% of males2) but that doesn’t help when it feels like everyone around you is constantly talking about how much they love food and eating out and drinking and plastering social media with pictures of themselves doing so.
Writing this was important to me, not because I think I’m special… but precisely the opposite, because my struggles were/are in no way unique. A couple of people I knew had shared similar struggles publicly. One of them helped alleviation of that isolation a little, and if she helped me then maybe this will help someone else. Given how many of my social media connections are athletes, even if only a small fraction bother to read this then chances are one of you can relate, whether you or someone you know is struggling a little bit, or going through treatment, or in recovery, or know someone who is. I hope this helps, if just a little. Don’t be afraid to get help, and don’t be afraid to help. Whether it’s a bad day, or week or year. Whether it’s eating or stress or anxiety or addiction or anything. You are the only person that you will always have, so look after yourself.
Thank you for reading.
Have you ever encountered a sadness that can’t be lessened by pygmy goats? (Thought not.)
P.S. Special thanks to the most AMAZING people I have around me, from friends to family to friends I consider family, my coaching staff and Uni staff and everyone in-between. Thanks to those who knew nothing but who’s love made everything a little easier. Thanks to those who knew for nudging me towards help both (subtly and less subtly), for incredible patience and support and making harder times easier. You are all angels. Thank you to everyone who ever asked if I was okay and meant it, it’s a hugely powerful question. Thanks to the girl with the jellyfish tattoo at Uni who told me to take it easy after my accident, to the homeless guys who asked, not for change, but if they could help me one Wednesday when the rest of the world rushed past, to the woman who sat with me on a bench with her umbrella outside The Cabin when I couldn’t make it inside because pancakes were a little too scary that day, and to the lady in Ponds café who bought me a cup of tea when I needed it most. This might have been the bumpiest ride of my life, but the people I’ve had around me and met along the way have made that a whole lot smoother.
References:
[1] BEAT., 2018. Statistics for journalists [online]. Available from: https://www.beateatingdisorders.org.uk/media-centre/eating-disorder-statistics
[2] Currie et al., 2016. Eating Disorders. In: Currie, A. and Owen, B. (eds.) Sports Psychiatry, Oxford: OUP, pp. 53-68. Available from: https://dspace.lboro.ac.uk/2134/22319
And some other useful links:
https://www.beateatingdisorders.org.uk/types/do-i-have-an-eating-disorder
Eating Disorders in Sport: a Huge Bite to Swallow 
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