Fact: When I was fourteen, I had my first episode of anorexia nervosa.
Fact: When I was thirty-seven, and a mother of two, I relapsed and had my second episode of anorexia nervosa.
To those who are not familiar with the disease, people like me who have it tend to be extremely thin. We have a serious fear of gaining weight (or in anorexic lingo, “getting fat”).
Anorexics are scared to death of getting fat.
Anorexics also do not see the real image in the mirror, reflected back to them. When an anorexic looks at the mirror, she sees a fat blob.
Fat must be eliminated, prevented, at all costs. Because fat is evil.
Living with these pervasive thoughts, how do you eat? Every ounce of food is a threat. What is the worst thing that will happen when you “get fat”? You fail.
You become a failure. You die. You don’t deserve to live.
I have lived with this disease for 28 years. I can say that I am a recovering anorexic. And I will be a recovering anorexic, just like a former alcoholic is, for life, a recovering alcoholic. Just like a former drug user is a rehabilitated drug addict.
Because for me, anorexia recovery is a lifestyle.
F***k all those experts who say you can fully recover from an eating disorder like this. Because “full recovery”, in other people’s terms—that’s not my truth.
The more I look up to others’ norms as the ideal, the more I hate myself for failing.
Instead of doing that, I think it’s high time for self-forgiveness. A psychologist-friend of mine said, I could do well to use the term “self-acceptance”.
So, from now on, I accept you, Melany.
In the words of the 90’s band, Nirvana, I say to myself, “Come as you are.”
Recently, I have been attracted to the philosophy of Wu Wei (無為). Perhaps it is because of my Chinese heritage, that I feel a strong affinity towards this philosophy.
Wu Wei states that to get something you want, you must not actively chase it. Instead, you are advised to listen and be attentive to what is happening around you. Do not resist the direction of the current:
Flow with the flow, wallow in it. Stop swimming upstream.
I have been swimming upstream in terms of anorexia recovery forever and ever. I thought if I could “recover” and “be healed” just like my friend “T”, my life will be complete. I thought if I could eat like normal people, I will finally find happiness.
But no. I declare now that I quit eating like normal people.
I will just eat like how I eat.
Fact: I have been permanently marked by anorexia. My eating style will reflect that. I can’t eat like normal people. In order to have adequate nutrients in me, I need to tap my creative planning skills.
A lot of people ask me what it feels like to eat when you have anorexia. How can eating be non-pleasurable? Most people enjoy eating. But for me, it is complicated.
I enjoy food, I do feel pleasure eating, but I cannot admit it openly. I don’t want people to see my enjoyment. I don’t admit to having physical needs.
I don’t have needs. I’m super-human. I am not weak.
The easiest way you will be able to understand me is this: Do you have a friend who has a panic attack every time they are asked to stand in front of an audience to deliver a speech?
That’s basically me. At meal times.
All meal times.
Do you have a friend who takes forever to dress up before stepping out of the house?
That’s me, trying to put food inside my body.
The anxiety can only be quieted by yoga and breathing exercises.
I use yoga poses, secular meditation, and mindful breathing to get me through meal times. The yoga mat sits near my dining area.
I take several breaks to finish my meal—sometimes I do the poses, sometimes I do the breathing, whatever it takes to get it done.
And I say “my” dining area, because I cannot eat with people watching. Including my family.
(After my house got renovated, I finally got my own safe place to eat—meditate and eat. I am thankful that my family is supportive an understanding.)
Needless to say, it takes an inordinate amount of time for me to finish eating, i.e., “fulfill my calorie intake quota”. That’s what I call it because I feel queasy admitting that I need to eat. The objective-oriented words, “I have caloric needs” feels more comfortable to use.
Because I do not feel hunger like normal people, so I have to rely on other cues. Left alone to eat intuitively, I would drop kgs like a boss.
(I have made an objective comparison of eating intuitively versus eating with a plan using an Excel sheet.)
Over time, I have devised a unique system to keep my food consumption in check. Also, I do moderate exercises, so I won’t burn too much of what I have eaten.
Health apps are a great help not just for people trying to lose weight, but for people on the other side of the scale (pun intended).
I can say that my system is effective. Things have gotten to a point where, even if my BMI is low, I have had my periods back. For an anorexic, that’s an undeniable tangible sign that you’re doing ok.
How can something as basic as feeding myself be so hard? I bet you ask.
But I also bet you ask a similar question about your friend who takes so long to dress up.
I bet you ask something like that about yourself when you procrastinate on a task.
It’s just that, for me, it is about eating (food consumption). It’s like having social anxiety, but instead of being anxious about socializing, my anxiety is about putting-the-things-inside-the-body-so-that-the-body-will-not-fail.
What I can say overall, is it is a struggle every day to love and respect myself. I’m in varying stages of denial about my needs—psychological, mental, emotional or physical.
But so are you. Mine just manifests this way. To each their own.
I’m just doing my best to survive. And hopefully, yes, thrive.
