“To all the people who’ve ever said ‘I wish I was anorexic’.”

Image: iStock. By Sophia Hatzis. Warning: This post deals with eating disorders and may contain references that are triggering.

More than one person has said to me “I wish I was anorexic“.

In that moment, I don’t know how to respond. I freeze with fear. A fear that the person who uttered those words will follow the anorexia path. Perhaps they expect that when they’re skinny and in control of their food and their body, they will be content.

“Sometimes, I just wish I was anorexic,” a friend once told me. She laughed after she said these words, as if the thought of developing a fatal mental illness was hilarious.

I was paralysed by anger and disbelief.

I felt like screaming. I wanted to tell them her she had no idea. No idea at all. (Is anorexia genetic? Post continues after video.) 

But instead of screaming or crying or hiding away to sit with my feelings, I laughed back. Maybe I laughed because I didn’t know how else to handle it.

I hate the word “anorexia”. To me, it’s a dirty word. It sounds as brutal and unforgiving as the illness is. The ‘x’ slides of the tongue like the hiss of the snake. That word has followed me everywhere and, if I’m being honest, it still does.

I asked my mum once why she thought people said this. She said many women joke about wanting to develop an eating disorder. Why? Because an eating disorder is linked to traits they wish they possessed: self-control, compulsion to exercise, unwavering focus. Of course the end result is what they desire most. Being skinny.

I’m sure most people think that anorexia can be turned on and off like a tap. That as soon as you are ‘thin’ enough, you’ll stop your behaviours and maintain your weight. (Post continues after gallery).

That couldn’t be further from the truth.

So, to all the women and men that have ever ‘wanted’ to be anorexic, I want to tell you what anorexia did to me.

Anorexia:

  • Made my hair brittle and fragile, so much so that when I ran my fingers through my hair, it would fall out in clumps;
  • Turned my skin yellow and at times translucent;
  • Made my bones more susceptible to fractures and breakages;
  • Made me bruise easily. I would often find purple and yellow welts all over my body;
  • Made my hands, feet and other exteriors cold;
  • Made me lose my period, which may have long-term consquences for my reproductive health;
  • Made my heart beat get so low that I was close to experiencing complete heart failure;
  • Made me lose my concentration and focus completely;
  • Made me feel faint and dizzy constantly;
  • Made me irritable, angry and sullen;
  • Made me so thin that my rib-cage, collar bones and hip bones protruded;
  • Made me so weak that I couldn’t get out of bed;
  • Made me isolate my friends and family to the point where I decimated my social life;
  • Made me hungry all the time. I woke up hungry, I went to school hungry, I went to sleep hungry. The hunger completely consumes your body and your state of mind. You are constantly focused on food and your own starvation;
  • Made me more self-conscious about my body than I had ever been. At the peak of my illness, my self-confidence was at an all time low;
  • Made me more susceptible to illness and viruses. I contracted impetigo three times in the space of two months. It was painful and extremely uncomfortable, and destroyed my libido. My sex drive became non-existent.

This list is only the beginning.

After hospital. (Image supplied.)

 

I will never forget that dizziness. Everyday I woke up on the verge of fainting.

I will never forget the horror of running my fingers through my hair and watching it fall out.

I will never forget being hosiptalised and having a heart rate so low that I was monitored throughout the night.

I will never forget the cold. I avoided hugs from my family and my beautiful partner, Antoine, because when I touched them they’d gasp. They’ve since told me it was like touching ice.

I will never forget being hungry all the time. Food was constantly on my mind. I was utterly consumed by thoughts of what I ‘could’ eat, when I would eat and how I could avoid uncomfortable food situations.

 

My boyfriend was one of my biggest sources of support. (Image: Supplied)

 

What do you think of when you think of anorexia? Maybe you think about the unwavering self-control. Maybe you consider the thinness. Maybe you think it’d be easy to just…stop.

I hope when you think about anorexia from now on, you think about my list. I hope you think about how anorexia turns you into a person you never thought you could or would ever be.

I hope you think about me and how recovery from anorexia has been the best and most important part of my life.

If you or anyone you know are suffering from an eating disorder, please call Beyond Blue on 1300 22 4636. This post originally appeared on Debrief Daily. You can read the original post here.

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