EMILY’S STORY
I gradually realised that life was too good to miss out on
Without my parents, I would never have recovered. I needed to talk, and to be open and honest: with anorexia, if you keep everything locked up, you don’t know what to do – or how to get better. Opening up to them was difficult, but it was a conversation that saved my life.
Having been through mental illness himself, Dad could understand, and I was never embarrassed to tell him anything or to try to express my feelings. He’d let me sit there and cry for hours, if I just needed to be with someone. But it did turn me into a monster. I’d say and do things that were completely out of character – storm off, scream, and cry, even blame them for the fact that I wouldn’t eat for the rest of the day. Every time, they found a way to forgive me. They understood it was the illness talking, and not me.
I felt guilty at the time, and it still fills me with guilt. It was a double-edged sword, because anorexia meant I also felt guilty about what I was eating. We were all tackling it blind: I’d never been close to anyone who’d had an eating disorder before. But my parents tried every avenue to get me better. Everything they did was textbook.
The only thing I would do differently would be to make sure that, later down the line, I carried on being open about it when meeting people, or starting a new job. It’s tempting to hide what you’ve been through, but that can be a big mistake – if you start to feel under pressure and it comes back, the people around you are less equipped to help if they don’t know about it. I’ve learnt to be more upfront and at this point, being completely open is cathartic, and helping me to stay healthy and well.
A key moment was going into residential care. I was either going to not eat and end up not being here, or completely hand over control to strangers. When I was being tube-fed, it was horrible, but in a strange way, it was a relief for all of us. It was out of our hands, and it wasn’t my parents responsibility that I was essentially starving myself to death in their house.
I got past the point of living as a functioning anorexic, and when I began to live without it, I realised life was too good to miss out on. I had to talk myself into it, tell myself that I was on a good path, that I didn’t need my eating disorder any more. I also didn’t want to put my parents through it again. I’d reached a place where I was so far removed that I could clearly see how much better my life was without it.
My parents helped to pull me through it, but it was only when something clicked into place and I decided that I really wanted to recover that that began to happen. Even so, I still needed family support and friendships. I know that, no matter what, I can always come home, and my mum and dad are always on the end of the phone, which provides a safety net. My relationship with them now is different to when I needed them 24/7, but it’s better than ever.
Anorexia could ruin a family, but thankfully, it’s brought us closer together.
Being completely open is cathartic, and it is helping me to stay healthy and well