It is incredibly difficult to say those three words within your own mind, let alone unleashing them aloud: I need help.

Any recovery takes time. There’s no set pace or step-by-step guide and everyone will have a different experience going through recovery.

On the surface, I do ABSOLUTELY NOTHING – no full-time job, no university studies, no running, no dance classes, no responsibilities. I can lounge around all day, take nap after nap and am not expected to be ‘productive’.

We live in a world where our society defines us. A world where we must look perfect and act perfect to fit in. But what is perfect? What is normal?

Every year when Ramadan comes around, I open up about my experience with an eating disorder. It can be such a tricky time for those of us struggling.

I am 16 years old and eating disorders have dictated my life from a young age, but not in the way many assume. My brother has suffered from anorexia for as long as I remember.

Being diagnosed with anorexia when I was 17 was, I thought at the time, one of the worst things in the world. Over the past four years I've been pushing my way through recovery (and a degree) with the many ups and downs that come alongside.

Eating disorders affect people of all ages, backgrounds, and genders. But often people have narrow expectations about what someone with an eating disorder looks like, and this can lead to additional barriers to support and treatment for those who fall outside those expectations.

I can’t pinpoint the time or the day that I handed over control to my anorexia. The time that I would let the scales plummet as well as my happiness.

I was 12 years old when I was first diagnosed with an eating disorder. I remember because it was just after Christmas – I was in Year 8 at school and had just recovered from the flu.

My friend has suffered from an eating disorder since she was ten years old. No one really knows why it started but some events clearly led up to it.

I’m 22 years old. So far, I’ve sat through: 25 GCSE exams, eight AS Levels, six A2s, four preliminaries, four ‘Finals’, two drawn-out pieces of coursework, and one 12,000 word thesis.

Recovering from anorexia was the most difficult thing I’ve ever had to do, but certainly the one thing that changed my life and me beyond recognition…in the best way possible.

It’s okay not to be okay. It’s okay to ask for help. I know you’re scared, I know you’re striving for something, and I know you might not even know what that something is anymore.

The last few months have marked some of the most significant events in my life to date. After six years I am no longer under the care of an eating disorders service, and after five years I have qualified as a Doctor.

If you're like me and feeling rubbish about not getting well, you're not alone. If your friend or family member has been living with an eating disorder for years please don't give up on them recovering.

I know how daunting it is to think of the recovery journey ahead. I know how easy it is to be deceived into thinking that it’s simpler to let your eating disorder control you and destroy you.

My anorexia started when I was just 11 years old. However, I wasn’t officially diagnosed until 10 years later. That is a decade of illness before I started treatment, by which time my ED was well and truly ingrained.

Anorexia was never intended, never wanted and never fully understood. Yet in the September of my second year at university, I somehow found myself being taken on by an intensive outpatient treatment team.

Finally, for the first time in a long time, my day was not completely structured around when/what I would eat, and my mind was not completely consumed by thoughts of food and my eating disorder.