Inside the Mind of an Anorexic

Anyone can do an internet search or skim through some books at the library and find out what the criteria are that define anorexia. Most people have an understanding of what the condition is, in a literal sense. Most people have an understanding of anorexia that is simple and superficial. Most people don't understand what anorexia truly is, and how much more than just the physiological it is. Some understand it more than most, but unless you've been there and lived it, it can be hard to truly understand the disease.

I have been there. I have lived it. And I still fight it, every day.

Throughout the years, I've met many people like me; some in person, some online. There seems to be an unspoken understanding between us though. We know what the other is going through, at least when it comes to the disorder. We know how it feels and we know the obsession and panic it can inflict onto our daily lives. It is not something we can stop, and it is not something we can control. It is what it is; it is there, and it will never leave. That bond is hard to understand, but there is closeness just in sharing that identical pain. Just as cancer survivors connect and bond, racing for a cure, so do anorexics; except instead of racing we stay hidden in the shadows, understanding our mutual pain with just a silent glance.

I'm more open about my disorder than most that I know suffering from the same affliction. I've reached a point some never do; acceptance. Some believe recovery from an eating disorder is realistic and possible, but I don't. I know that the disorder is a part of me, and I know it always will be. Everyone who matters to me already knows, and those who don't, it doesn't matter. I have nothing to hide.

When people find out about the disorder, I'm usually asked the same few questions, without fail; "When? Why?" The thing is, these questions, for most anorexics can't be answered. It isn't because we're hiding or being secretive. The truth is, most of us don't know. An eating disorder isn't usually a conscious choice. It isn't like the movies or books where a young impressionable girl sees a model on the television and suddenly decides "I want to look like her. I'm going to starve myself." There might be some anorexics that started that way, but in my experiences, as well as those of other anorexics I've met, that isn't how it happens. For most of us, it's about control, but not in the way most think. This isn't to say we lack control in our lives, but rather, we have experienced so much hurt, and our disorder is a way to channel that hurt and control the areas of our lives that the hurt consumes.

The descent into an eating disorder, for most, isn't conscious. It just happens, and usually, it isn't recognized until the disorder is out of control. Previously, it felt impossible to describe the onset, that was until I stumbled upon this quote from Elizabeth Wurtzel, author of "Prozac Nation."

"There is a classic moment in The Sun Also Rises when someone asks Mike Campbell how he went bankrupt, and all he can say in response is, 'Gradually and then suddenly.' When someone asks how I lost my mind, that is all I can say too"

In my situation, the disorder was always there, always beneath the surface. Maybe the disorder is genetic; maybe it was hereditary or maybe it was the environment. Whatever it was, I don't know. I remember putting myself on diets before I even started kindergarten. I remember thinking how monstrous I was and training myself to enjoy feeling that rumbling in my stomach when I hadn't eaten. Even if I didn't recognize the disorder, perhaps it had been there all along; I just didn't recognize it until I was too deep into it to make excuses or ignore its presence any longer. I didn't just wake up one morning and think out loud "I don't eat for days on end and when I do, I purge. I must have an eating disorder." It was never that cut and dry, after all, in the early phases, I wasn't skinny enough to have an eating disorder. I was full of excuses. I didn't eat because I wasn't hungry. I didn't feel like cooking. I purged because I really shouldn't eat junk food and I ought to know better.

Despite how I tried to explain the disorder, I would get the same confused looks, people asking why and if I knew what I was doing to myself. Yes, I knew exactly what I was doing to myself. I knew it was breaking down my bones, messing with my electrolyte balance, destroying my organs. I knew the damage it was causing. Much like a smoker knows that smoking can cause severe health problems, an anorexic knows too, but just like the smoker, they can't stop.

There comes a point where you lose yourself to the disorder. In the beginning, you and the disorder are separate and distinct. Yes, the disorder is there, but you can differentiate your own thoughts and reasoning from that of your disordered self. You start out separate, but as time continues, the two begin to overlap, creating a blurry spot that continues to grow the more and more the two overlap. Eventually, there is no more distinction. You cannot separate the thoughts. You can't tell one from the other. It is at this point that there is no turning back.

It becomes an obsession and a compulsion. It becomes something that cannot be controlled and any attempt to resist your own behaviors and your own rituals and practices that you created will leave you an anxious mess. Stupid little things become necessary; tapping your fingers and toes constantly, drinking an entire jug of water every time you even think of eating something, mandatory exercise routines, jumping jacks in the bathroom, counting and recounting every possible calorie, stripping down naked and weighing yourself morning, noon and night. It becomes your life. It becomes and unspoken rule and even though you don't know why you need to, you always follow the rules. If you break them, you punish yourself. Failure to sustain these rituals is self-treason, and the punishment severe. Without these rituals, without these rules, you are worthless. There is no middle ground and there is no forgiveness.

That's just how it is.

It isn't something that most can understand with ease. It's a disease; a life-altering, consuming, devouring disease. Even if you get "better," it's always there, just below the conscious, waiting like a spider in a dusty corner for the right moment to strike.