Angela: A Life Battling Anorexia Nervosa, Part 1

Since I  began this blog I have had a strong conviction that reading the story of someone that has battled or is battling a mental illness can be a powerful thing.  It lets us know we aren’t in this alone as we relate in one fashion or other to the story we are reading.  I also realize that writing one’s story is no easy task as I have had several fine people say no to my request for them to do so.  As you read Angela’s story you’ll understand why.

Because I believe so strongly in the power of a personal testimony and what God can accomplish through one I am running Angela’s story in three installments.  It is a long story but it is well worth reading.  Believe me when I say that you don’t need to be a person who has struggled with an eating disorder to be blessed by what you are about to read.  PLEASE PAY CLOSE ATTENTION TO ANGELA’S WARNING AND DISCLAIMERS BELOW BEFORE YOU START TO READ. Allan

BEFORE YOU READ MY STORY
Disclaimers, Warnings, and Info (oh my!)

Congratulations, you have stumbled upon “my story”, if you will.  I hope you have set aside a block of time to read this – be forewarned, I’m a freelance writer working a lot of writing projects, so I have a fondness for detail.  In fact, I consider it necessary.  I hope that it will present itself with clarity and that you will be able to in some way grasp the torture of living with an eating disorder via my personal experiences.

I MUST give a word of caution to everyone who happens upon my story, especially if you have an eating disorder.  The content of this account of my life with anorexia may be very triggering or graphic to you.  I have tried my best to not go overboard and to leave out some disturbing details, but there are numbers and weights mentioned in this, so please consider what is best for you before reading. The details have been added to paint an accurate and descriptive portrait of eating disorders in general and to convey my personal struggle while displaying God’s power.  I shouldn’t be alive now. Also, there are pictures included in my personal account, HOWEVER, none of them are of me at my lowest weight.  I do not find those kinds of images beneficial for me to see, and I am not interested in glorifying my illness.

My intentions for creating this website and sharing my life with anyone who will listen (read?…)  have not been and are never for selfish gain or self-glorification.  My life is meant to be a testament of God and though I fail miserably to be all that I should, I know that He still loves me and uses my triumphs and pitfalls.  Now, while you read this brief account of my life thus far (and yes, contrary to what you may think, it is very much a summary), you may be expecting to hear something like “I went on a diet to lose some weight” or that I was overweight and needed to drop a few pounds.  My eating disorder was not the result of dabbling in some fad diet.  Some are initially triggered by an attempt to lose weight or some other life experience, and in no way am I demeaning or downplaying the development of their illness, but please understand this  eating disorders are not a disease of vanity or a way of life.  I did not -I do not – ‘want’ my eating disorder.  If you learn anything from me or from my website, I hope that it will include grasping the concept of eating disorders as serious mental disorders.  Diets and society do not cause eating disorders.  When it comes to pinpointing the cause of an eating disorder, it is not an easy task. It is influenced by genetics, personal triggers, ideals (both for the individual and the general public), personality, and in some ways, our society influences the severity of eating disorders. For me, my eating disorder has always been about pain, suffering, family, control, illness, fear, anxiety, society, and perfectionism. My life has certainly had its share of chaotic events. From family and all the dysfunction that accompanies that, to friendships and their drama, to school stress, to events beyond my control. Everything around me from a young age seemed so dark, and I didn’t like that. A part deep within was dying to escape all that and be happy. Thus began my entrance into the world of anorexia nervosa. I didn’t realize that the part dying to escape would not be set free with the eating disorder, but instead bound, stifled, buried and nearly lost forever.

Also: I don’t have a ‘bad’ family or ‘terrible’ friends, and I have no intentions of airing dirty laundry, so to speak, and I don;t think it to be very Christ-like to tear others down, so it presents a bit of a dilemma in sharing the development of my eating disorder and triggers without divulging information that others would rather not be shared, so some issues may appear to be glazed over or not mentioned at all.  I believe that my story and life will speak for itself and I do not need to share some details about them and I must protect others in my life.

So, as a summary:
What you won’t find
A tell-all story of scandal and family secrets (honestly, there is no scandal…just like the way that sounded, haha)
Pictures of my lowest weight

What you will find
Some mention of numbers & weight (again, read responsibly)
Details about my life and my many struggles
An ongoing journey of hope
An attempt to glorify God by telling my story

With that being said, I shall begin…

..empty..

Main Entry: 1emp•ty
Pronunciation: \em(p)-tē\
Function: adjective
Inflected Form(s): emp•ti•er; emp•ti•est
Etymology: Middle English, from Old English æmettig unoccupied, from æmetta leisure, perhaps from æ- without + -metta(probably akin to mtan to have to)  more at must
Date: before 12th century
Definitions: containing nothing; not occupied or inhabited; unfrequented; not pregnant; null; lacking reality, substance, meaning, or value; hollow; destitute of effect or force; devoid of sense : foolish; hungry; Idle; having no purpose or result : useless; marked by the absence of human life, activity, or comfort
emp•ti•ly  \-t-lē\ adverb
emp•ti•ness  \-tē-ns\ noun
Synonyms empty, vacant, blank, void, vacuous mean lacking contents which could or should be present. Empty suggests a complete absence of contents . Vacant suggests an absence of appropriate contents or occupants . Blank stresses the absence of any significant, relieving, or intelligible features on a surface . Void suggests absolute emptiness as far as the mind or senses can determine . Vacuous suggests the emptiness of a vacuum and especially the lack of intelligence or significance . (Source)

I cannot recall a time in which anorexia was not a part of my life.  It has been rooted deep within me for as long as I can remember.  At the ripe old age of 6, I recall – with all clarity as though it happened only yesterday – standing in front of the full length mirror, staring with intense loathe at myself before school and saying to myself, “I am fat.  I am ugly.  I need to lose weight.”  Those words were not void or meaningless.  On the contrary, they were steady and firm and tangled like a tree root and resonated from the core of my being.  This is one of the earliest memories that I have of my life.  I had not been called fat by anyone, so it was not planted in my head or suggested to me, per se.  I also had no concept of what an eating disorder was at this age.  What I did understand was stress, pain, suffering, fear, anxiety, all from personal experience – even at that young an age.  All of these things would manifest themselves in the form of anorexia nervosa in my life.  I of course did not/couldn’t have know/known what the thoughts in my head – those intense burning and overpowering, haunting words – would bring.

The World I Know

Allow me to give you a glimpse into the life and mind of this little girl, both as a child and as the adult that she became because this is essential to being able to comprehend my struggle with anorexia.   I have always been very different from everyone else around me.  Even as a child I was told that I was smart, or “advanced” for my age. I was already a die-hard perfectionist by the time I began elementary school.  My entire life I’ve spent hours studying, mulling over books, reading everything I could get my hands on, both for leisure and out of obligation.  I’ve always felt that I needed to know everything and be everything to everyone.  I didn’t want to let anyone down.  In some ways, this mindset is my natural line of thinking, but this was also acquired due to my life experiences and expectations placed on me by others. I caught on easily in school and often tried to learn much more than was required.  I had high aspirations of becoming a heart surgeon, or the next Audrey Hepburn.  I was career focused before I really understood what a career was.  I had an intense desire to take piano lessons, write novels and poetry, and read every book I could get my hands on.  I desired the deep, substantial things that adults entertained themselves with and had little interest in the kind of stuff a child normally cared about.  I am the kind of person that always needs to be doing something.  This was/is encouraged by everyone because I suppose they all saw great potential in it.  But, as a result, I’ve always felt very isolated, unwelcome, and separate from everyone else my age.  In many ways I grew up way too fast. My childhood memories are scarce, save for those times highlighted by my eating disorder. In the first grade I can remember my heart pounding, anxiety provoked as tests would be passed back in class.  I fretted and worried about not having a 100, and couldn’t imagine what would happen if I didn’t.  While ambition and drive may be considered a blessing, it became my curse, because it seemed perfection could somehow be achieved, and nothing less than it would ever be good enough.  I was pushed and pressured to and beyond my limits.

Appearance-wise, I’ve always felt a bit like an ugly duckling. My blonde hair, an awkward shade that could easily blend in with the purest white and also manage to make me stick out like a sore thumb.  My body, which always felt like an illusion to me:  short, yet “tall”, because I carried no weight on my frame.  I felt virtually gigantic in elementary and middle school when most kids were in a short and stumpy stage and I acquired my height early.  I was by no means tall; to this day I am barely 5’0″ tall.  But something about the way I looked, the way I carried myself, made me feel…different. And being perceived as different as a child tends to lead to unpleasant experiences.

There would come a time when my eating disorder would be so rampant and everyone was fear stricken with regards to both my appearance and my health, but still that extreme drive lingered before my eyes and I felt I always had to live up to it, even when the voices of others fell silent and it was only my disorder screaming at me to do more.  I’m sure it’s quite evident without me mentioning that I am an extremely stubborn, disciplined, and head-strong individual, but I will say it for emphasis anyway =).  Once my mind is set, I can’t be deferred.  In some ways I think I became so immersed in perfecting myself because I’ve never known how to handle everything else around me.  Family troubles and personal distress, feeling so different from the few friends I had…I was always very inept emotionally and that is something that I am still catching up to today.

The hard edges of my perfectionism with its defined boundaries and endless demands fronted the deep insecurities that I’ve always fought.  I am extremely sensitive and I’ve always tried to remain attentive to others, their opinions, their needs, to the point that I have allowed others to control my life even though control was something I desperately sought for myself.  I find myself carrying the weight and pain of others and wanting to make their problems disappear.  I suppose that as a child whenever others hurt, I thought I was the culprit, and wanted to chisel myself away until I was acceptable to them. I never felt that I was good enough, smart enough, pretty enough.  This became the trend of my entire life with everyone I interacted with.  I was too quiet, or not quiet enough.  I was a convenience but not particularly significant.  I never thought I mattered, and as a result I thought I had to be everything that everyone else wanted me to be in order to find some sort of value in myself. I never understood what it meant to be human, that it was ok to feel and hurt and cry, and that if I was incapable of something, it didn’t mean I was a failure, it meant that it just wasn’t who or what I was meant to be.  My purpose seemed to be that I was a trophy of achievement, moving on to my next task.  I molded myself to fit whatever space I was presented.  I was empty, and I needed to be filled.  What I never understood until I truly grasped the love of Christ is that I couldn’t fill myself.  He had to.

Though I am definitely a people pleaser, I never compromised some of the things that I held dear, the few things that kept me from slipping through the cracks completely.  I didn’t engage in misbehavior, I held strong to morals and values, and I had an insatiate drive for success that kept me motivated to study when my brain hurt, that made it ok to miss prom because I was participating in academic competitions, and provided the strength to keep myself awake for days just to make sure every last fact I need to make a 100 on the test was engraved in my mind.  My drive, my motivation, my beliefs, all reinforced my destructive thinking.  I am not good enough, so I have to work harder.  I cannot miss one question on a test, or, well, I never really thought of what would happen, I just thought it would be unpardonable.  I must be the perfect Christian, excel at everything, because maybe one day all of it will make me acceptable.  Maybe it will somehow redeem me, for I am not worthy to live.

This may all sound terribly dramatic, like a mess of emotion thrown onto a computer screen.  But essentially, this is the world that I know.  I’ve always been the square peg trying to fit in a round hole, with fair-weather friends and heartbreak around every corner.  I didn’t swear or go out and party.  I became a Christian at age 12.  I went to church and I prayed.  I stayed home and studied on Friday nights.  I read books on long car rides and wrote poetry to express myself.  I lived inside my head because my reality was too painful to face.  I was taught, conditioned, to fear rejection, due to my intimate acquaintance with it.  On the outside, when it became too much, I withdrew.  On the inside, I mourned.  I hated myself.  And I emptied myself some more.

As I mentioned before, there wasn’t really a dawn-breaking-over-the-horizon moment where I “decided” to develop an eating disorder.  It almost seemed as though as I grew, it grew with me as if it had always been planted deep inside.  I had a lot of challenges in my life due to my eating disorder far before I was ever diagnosed.  It took years and years for those who knew me to truly recognize the magnitude of what was happening.  Somewhere along the way, I had this epiphany that I was just unacceptable.  This wasn’t just an internal feeling, but something that also reflected in others’ actions and responses to me.

So there I was in what would be an unfortunate, but nonetheless defining moment in my life.  Six years old with the rest of my life to live.  Something changed within that little girl as she stood before that mirror.  Little by little, she began to vanish while the whole world watched.   Slipping down…down…down…

..Beginnings..

Anorexia’s onset was as subtle as the whisper in my ear I’d heard that morning at age 6, but instead of fading like an echo in my mind, it became stronger, and I was the one disappearing.  First came the restriction and manipulation of food. It suddenly felt bad or wrong to have food in my stomach.  I was conscious of every food that was put into my body and  I  had extreme anxiety around food, but I never voiced any of it.    No one knew of the fear and anxiety that was overtaking me.  In time I also developed this unquenchable obsession with exercise, doing routines with the fitness gurus on television.  I’m sure it was quite the sight, being a child and all, but of course this behavior was done in secret.   I can remember all too well the utter glee I felt when I finally had my own room.  It presented itself as an invitation to slip into my own little world.  Each day brought subtle changes that led to an obsession. I began to make careful choices of what I ate. From birth, I’d been an EXTREMELY picky eater, and that of course only worsened with time.  Since I’d always been that way to an extent I suppose some just chalked it up to me being finicky, or  wanting attention, but in reality neither was true.  A silent disease was spreading, manifesting itself and taking root, and one by one, pieces of the person I was faded away until I was nothing but human shell and walking death.

By middle school I was pas the point of no return.  Going to the library while everyone else was at lunch.  Throwing any food I had.  Exercising before and after school.     Age 6 up to my entrance into middle school was a time of carefully choosing the foods I ate, labeling foods as “bad” or “good”, and gradually beginning to delve into hardcore exercise. Most of my time in elementary/middle school was spent gradually plunging into another world, so to speak.  Though I didn’t really know what was going on, for some reason I knew I couldn’t let anyone know.  I knew I had to protect it and hide it away.  I felt as if no one could possibly understand, and in some ways I felt that I SHOULD be miserable.  This silent torture that I was experiencing made me feel as though I was purifying myself, riding myself of impurities and failures. I exercised in secret, refused food and pretended to eat.  I was always very small, and I certainly did not need to lose weight.  Eating felt wrong and shameful to me, like I was committing some unforgivable crime or sin, and to be able to abstain from food gave me the confidence boost that I was searching for. And when I was empty, I felt free and on top of the world, like I could handle and control the things I couldn’t in reality achieve or bring myself to face.  I could somehow cope with the pain my family went through in their personal lives.  I could suffocate how it affected me to be in and experience their trials.  I didn’t have a specific plan of action all through elementary school, and I’d yet to memorize caloric contents of foods or calculate the amount I’d burned off, but anorexia was alive and well in my life, and I was slowly dying, while everyone watched but never saw.  It could be that, in addition to me always being that way to everyone and it not seeming abnormal for me personally, that everyone else had too much going on in their own lives to really see it.  Even though my mind and body were wasting away, somehow the world around me continued and didn’t seem to show any signs of seeing it. This is a secretive illness, so often it remains hidden until medical complications occur, or severe weight loss. It is also quite common for families and loved ones to not know exactly what to do, so often they don’t do anything, many times expecting it to work itself out or stop on its own. This rarely occurs, and by the time something is done or said often the illness is full blown. This was in some ways the case with my situation. It’d always been there so there wasnt a sudden development, just a gradual slip.  I don’t think it was an issue of my family not caring for my well-being, though at the time it certainly seemed that way to, but one of lack of understanding and confusion.  To this day, I don’t think family or friends from childhood really grasp what an eating disorder is.

I had my periods of rebellion against anorexia, where I tried to give in and eat, or when I was forced by someone to eat something, but nothing was ever stronger than the screaming of my disorder, and all efforts to fight it never amounted to anything.  I am sure that those times of intervention are probably one of the reasons I’m still alive today.

As I progressed through middle school, I began to get sick often and passed out in PE quite a few times. I was living off of an extremely low amount of calories and my body struggled to stay afloat.  I would get lectured by the teacher because it was apparent to her that I wasn’t eating, and on one occasion I was  handed an agenda that I was to write down all my meals in, which of course made my obsession worse as I developed elaborate logs of negative calories and lengthy workouts.  She never really asked for it, and my mishaps never made it too far up the chain of command and ultimately nothing was done or said anymore. I appeared to have slipped through the cracks, and I was ok with it.  Whenever I was approached about it I felt incredibly awkward, like a huge spotlight had been put on me and I was asked to perform, and I never knew exactly what I was supposed to say or do.  But I did know that this was my life, and I felt extremely protective of it, to the point that I became over time a very deceitful person without intending to be.  I became an expert at alluding suspicion and gave valiant efforts to blend in.  All I wanted was to be accepted and to be left alone.  Somehow, I figured this would happen as I starved the ugly parts of me away. And, my eating disorder, in many ways,  regardless of its deadly  agenda became my best friend.  It was with me always and knew my mind.  It knew me better than any person did. At times I found that my mind truly baffled me and I’ve never been able to explain the ins and outs of the crazy jumbles in my head, but to me somehow it all had to be right, because starving was right.  My pattern of restricting remained steady, and it was easy because my family members kept their own schedules and we never had sit down meals.  While my caloric intake was extremely low, it didn’t take too long for the effectiveness to wear off. I found myself stuck in a rut, a plateau. This was not working anymore. I was very thin in the eyes of others, but certainly not thin enough.  I wasn’t numb.  I could still feel. Sometimes, the pain, the loneliness would rise up and show its face.  I was still starving, but things around me were not changing. There was still chaos in all areas of my life. I was a prize student but it still wasn’t good enough. I took this as a sign to up my intensity. I did not realize I was becoming – that I already was – very sick. My beliefs were not disputed by the society I became increasingly aware of.  The nation we live in of course promotes dieting and a perfect appearance. There are a lot of people who skip meals, who overindulge, who eat unhealthy foods, who are obsessed with nutrition and fitness. So, it didn’t particularly strike me as abnormal considering I couldn’t even remember a time where I’d eaten ‘normally’, and to be empty was to be strong! I felt in control, like somehow everything around me would calm down. Everything was ok, acceptable, manageable, as long as I didn’t eat.  If someone was angry at me, at least I could starve it away.  Things will get better if only I’m thin enough.

It didn’t.

I felt strong.

I wasn’t.

By the time I was in the 8th grade, anorexia became my life. To fight off hunger I threw myself into school and activities with an unparalleled devotion. I showed remarkable potential to most of my teachers. They said they saw true dedication in me. Everything I tried I excelled at. This only motivated me to do more. I was obsessed with thin and perfection. I kept collages of thin celebrities and researched diets and weight loss methods.  Every now and then a friend would mention something in passing about how sick I looked or question my eating habits, but it never made it past anything more. Most people knew nothing about eating disorders aside from general knowledge, and they certainly never knew how to handle it.  I didn’t think anything was wrong with me.

My next adjustment came with anxiety of high school approaching, and  I docked my calories even lower and did at least a few hours of exercise daily – preferably more – plus ballet. I thought that I was on my way, finally. I hadn’t considered that this was of course a progressive issue and that I’d never be content until I literally did nothing but exercise, because once it was increased I could never go back to doing a lesser amount.  To go back was to be weak and to fail, and that was all I ever considered in my decision making.  I was tired of being a failure, and oh, how I hated myself!  The God I came to know at age 12 was in the shadows of my self-hatred and punishment, because I didn’t believe that He could heal my hurts, make me whole, and give me purpose.  I’d never been willing to relinquish over some control of my life and walk the path He had for me, because I thought my life was destined to be the way it existed, and that anorexia was me.

That’s what it had come to. For as long as I could remember I’d eaten virtually nothing.  There wasn’t one particular goal I had that drove the illness deep inside me; I just didn’t want to feel. By the end of 8th grade I was determined.  The illness had completely consumed me.  My identity had taken full shape.  Anorexia has been with me my whole life.  Anorexia was me.  It wasn’t just a goal or an aspiration.  It wasn’t some stupid phase or diet like some think.  It wasn’t even my best friend anymore.  It was me.  When I wasn’t at school I was exercising. Running, walking, sit ups, dancing, toning exercises in my room in the middle of the night. When I wasn’t exercising, I was studying. Sometimes, I did both, doing calisthenics on my bedroom floor with a book propped, reading and rereading.  Between all those things, I managed to silence the hunger within me that was dying to get out.  I didn’t even know why I hurt anymore.  Whenever the hurt would attempt to rise, I’d burn it off.  I rewarded hunger pangs with a diet coke and stick of gum.  But this was only the beginning.  Things were about to get serious.

Angela’s website is located   HERE and is listed as a resource for this blog.