Your Stories

I used to think that writing about my own story and struggles with an eating disorder was a bit self-absorbed or maybe even pretentious.

I believed no one understood my battle and dug myself a deep hole I did not anticipate I could re-emerge from. By definition, I was a person who was anxious and anorexic. I believed this was who I was, so it could not be changed.

In today’s society, so many people are loud-and-proud gym bunnies, constantly posting on social media about PBs, juice cleanses and gruelling, military style workouts.

Let's rewind five years. A young girl, just 17, her bags packed, sat in the car trembling with fear. Where was I going? What is this place going to be like? Did I really need to go?

Recovery. It evokes so many different emotions for different people. It may frighten you, it may frustrate you, it may encourage you. For me, recovery is all that and more.

At the age of eighteen I had my place to study Music in September…however, I was also in the depths of anorexia.

As there has been a lot of talk about anorexia, particularly in recent times, almost everyone now knows what it is. Or at least they think they know.

Opening up was never easy for me but before the words left my mouth the assessor slammed me down. “Your BMI is high and the ED services won’t see you because of your weight.”

I didn’t ever think that I would get to this point. To be honest I didn’t think that I had a ‘point’ to get to as I didn’t think that anything was wrong… But here I am, after a long old journey, feeling proud that I BEAT anorexia.

It can be hard to enjoy a holiday when there are so many things around that make it feel chaotic. For someone like me, who copes with anxiety by needing structure and routine, the spontaneity and fun of a holiday season is enormously difficult to navigate.

For someone like me, with such a long history of anorexia nervosa behind me, exercising is a tricky affair and, unlike people who never experienced that, I can never lower the guard.

2018 is going to be an amazing year. That’s what I thought back in January. I’d not long landed my dream job, I’d moved back to London and I had a list of destinations to which I intended to travel. I also had an official diagnosis of anorexia nervosa to my name