Salma's Story - Climbing My Ladder (for South Asian Heritage Month)

It’s been two years since I took my first step to recovery. Anorexia nervosa, two words that defined me and a disease that turned my whole world upside down. Loneliness from broken relationships, loss of career aspirations, of hopes and dreams. This is just a small summary of what I lost. It wasn’t until recovery began that I came to realise this. I lacked energy to do anything, I longed for it to be the night where I could sleep away. I felt embarrassment, judgment and shame for every action I took from the small voice in my head. I longed to be alone. Eventually I stopped feeling anything, like an empty shell swaying on the shore of a sea. Yet all of my emotional pain rose when recovery began.

Once upon a time, my daily worries ranged from my choice of outfit for the day, to passing a test, to driving myself to my boyfriend’s house (which went up a hill). 21 and glowing. Again, not realising my radiance until I began recovery and scrolled through older, happier photos. I was following my destiny, working hard, going on holidays, seeing my friends and looking in the mirror and feeling so beautiful after I applied my favourite red lipstick.

My final year of university approached. The start of the pandemic came shortly after. Attending university virtually became the norm as did many new things, such as wearing a face mask, minimal socialising, seeing my partner less, and dressing up less. The world became frail – loss of loved ones, loss of norms and loss of diversity. Time paused but in the most negative way. Another year passed. It’s now March 2021. My dad becomes sick. It rapidly escalates from COVID to pneumonia to hospital visits. I see my dad, my gentle giant laying below me, helpless, fighting for his life, unable to eat, unable to speak, truly trapped. My heart felt like it was cracking more and more each day I would see him in the hospital. I would come home and cry in my bed. Two months had passed. But unintentionally things had changed. I couldn’t bear to see what my dad was going through. I felt like my life, my father’s life, the world around me was changing and I lost control. It was a surprisingly long time until I realised I had something wrong with me. You are never taught to handle trauma.

June 2022, I began recovery. I chose recovery. I am so grateful that I wake up every day and be more resilient than yesterday. I did it for me, for my partner, for my family relationships, for my career. I did it and I’m doing it every day. I started with therapy, a nutritional meal plan, I meditated and still do. As time passed, I began to socialise, go on holidays, began working, and reconnected with my family. Two years later I am travelling the world with my fiancé, learning about different cultures and trying new delicious foods. I enjoy Christmas with my partner and eating my favourite foods at Eid with people that mean the most to me. Every day is a new day, every day is different, but I choose to be happy right now. I am alive. I have values in life. I have ambitions and hopes. I am in control.

If you've been affected by any of the issues raised in this story, or are concerned for yourself or a loved one, you can find support and guidance on the help pages of our website.