Not believing the lies in the mirror

By: 17 year old female from ACT

I had always felt self conscious of my body; I never liked the shape, particularly my hips, stomach and legs. I used to hide in the bathroom when I was little and cry because I thought I was ugly and fat. At age 8 my family and I were driving along a country road. My mum handed me a box of shapes and a few minutes later, told me I couldn't eat anymore because they would make me fat and "no one likes a fat person."

At age 11 I started to skip meals, although not as regularly as it was going to be, and when I was 13 I was bullied, which I punished myself for by stopping eating. I skipped breakfast, threw out my lunch and came up with excuse after excuse to get out of dinner. I was pale with dark bags under my eyes. I was constantly tired and I didn't get my first period until I was 15 ½. Neither of my parents noticed that I was sick, even though I was very thin. In fact, my mother told me over and over again that I was doing well with the weight loss, but I needed to lose more weight because I was still so fat. My father had no comment - every member of my family would tease me if I ever did actually eat anything, particularly junk food.

When I was 14 I worked out how to purge after getting a stomach bug (which I later found out was an allergy to processed tomatoes). This became my new way to 'get rid of dinner.' It backfired on me; I started to gain weight again, which made me start skipping meals again. Although I never would have been classified as 'anorexic' by any standard, growing up I was a fairly slim child and when I wasn't eating at the age of 14, my weight dropped very low. Ironically enough, I gained weight when I started trying to lose weight.

By the time I was 15, I'd changed schools to escape from the bullying, but I was binging every single day for every meal. Breakfast would be anything from a few bowls of cereal and toast to whatever was in the fridge, recess would be a bowl of pasta, lunch would be a bowl of pasta and something else, after school I would binge on whatever I could get my hands on and dinner would be a massive portion of whatever my mother cooked, and I'd go back and eat after dinner. I wasn't using any 'compensatory methods' at all - I was recovering from being bullied and had depression and anxiety. I didn't want to go to school, even though I did keep going, and I slept a lot.

I didn't want to see other people - I spent my holidays eating and sleeping and avoiding going out and my school terms hiding from people in the library. I gained a lot of weight which took me from the very low end of 'healthy' to above the healthy weight. My mother made the anxiety and eating issues worse by constantly telling me what sort of weight I should be and how repulsed she was by me. It hurt a lot, but I was so spiritually dead that I didn't even respond to it. All through this year I was also self-harming almost every day and I still have some very nasty scars from this - I didn't manage to beat this habit until 6th June, 2006, although the frequency had significantly deteriorated by this date. I managed to stop after seeing my GP who gave me some strategies to manage the purging, which also gave me the inspiration to use this method to stop the self harming. She told me that I should use the distraction technique and try to delay hurting myself - it took a lot of time and practice and I didn't fully succeed in stopping for quite a long time - sometimes it still doesn't work, but every time I manage to delay it, even if it's only for a few minutes is a success because the more it's done, the easier it gets to beat.

Throughout this time I was very suicidal and at the end of year 8 (around 14 years old) I almost suicided. I'm so glad I didn't now - I have a lot to live for, but back then I was on the edge. There was one particular night when I wanted so badly to end my life, and I was planning how to, but I decided to call kids helpline. I didn't tell the counsellor what I was going to do, but told her I needed to talk. I don't know her name still, but I know that I probably wouldn't have been here if she hadn't taken the time to thoughtfully help me through everything that was wrong in my life. Perhaps she sensed something was wrong in my voice, but the ½ hour or so she took to talk to me stopped me from stupidly and prematurely ending my life.

When I was 16 I changed schools again and finally found a new group of friends. My eating was fine for almost 6 months, even though anxiety and negative feelings around food were ever present; the behaviours (the most physically dangerous part of the eating disorder) were absent. I started to get more confident and felt a lot happier.

This was only short lived, and school stresses of tests and the constant pressure placed on me by my parents (below 85% was considered 'shame' and 'failure') started to get to me and the relationship with my mother broke down even further. In a vain attempt to lose the weight I'd gained when I was 15 I started to dangerously diet again which made me, once again, unable to concentrate, pale and tired all the time, among other things. I withdrew from the family, which my mother took as a sign of 'teenage insolence' and whenever we had a fight, she refused to give me my mail or phone messages until I had apologized to her. 

Later that year I was diagnosed with mild polycystic ovarian syndrome, which, according to new research, could have been caused by the dangerous dieting I'd been doing all these years. It wasn't enough to stop me. By the end of the year I was passing out in the mornings regularly (although I never told anyone) and I was spending more and more time at home sick. Whether or not this was my stress levels making me sick, an actual illness or the eating disorder, anxiety and depression making me sick I'm not sure, but I spent about a total of the equivalent of 3 weeks of the term not at school which for me is a long time. This was also coming up to formal season, which made me up my efforts to lose weight. My mother actually told me at this stage to not eat for the week leading up to my formal so that I really would look 'beautiful.' I stupidly followed her advice and ate one salad a day leading up to the formal and spent the entire night feeling anxious, bloated and nauseous.

At the beginning of year 11 I continued to diet dangerously (I had lost around 10kgs in the summer holidays) and upped my exercise regimen. I would walk to school - which was a half hour walk, swim for an hour, go to the gym in my frees, sometimes go to the pool after school and then walk home, which was another half hour. During this time I found an online BMR (basic metabolic rate) calculator and worked out that I needed at the least around 2400 calories a day for the exercise which I was doing. I wasn't getting nearly enough and this was unsustainable. I ended up giving up the exercise - I was constantly exhausted and actually falling asleep in class. Instead of exercising, I fell back on my binging and purging and soon worked out that purging didn't only have to be after every binge, but also after every meal.

As the purging started to spiral out of control, one of my friends noticed my constant exhaustion and blood shot eyes. She had recovered from anorexia nervosa and knew all of the tricks I was using. She told me she was relapsing and wanted to see a doctor. I found a youth health care centre she could go and took her in, and she told the GP there that I was having issues with food. I could have died on the spot. I told the GP what I was doing, but that it wasn't a problem. The GP booked me an assessment at an eating disorder clinic. I refused to go if it meant that I would have to tell my parents. I also didn't think I had a problem because I was, and still remain a size 12 and I, like many others, believed the popular misconception that you have to be underweight to have a problem with food.

My mum has always been particularly aggressive towards food, and very possessive. I wonder if she has had some form of eating disorder and not realized it. She binges late at night and eats large amounts of sweet foods. I have grown up in a house where no one would eat the last of the chips or cookies because we felt to guilty. Food was regarded as the enemy and the ideal number of calories for a day was 0, but if we couldn't do that, as few as possible was good (ironically every member of my family is overweight, some members verging on obesity. My mother weighs more than I do and cannot fit into my clothes - but I was always regarded as the one with the 'weight problem').

My GP told me that I had to get help for myself before I passed out and I was admitted as an involuntary patient. By this stage I was purging anywhere between 3 and 5 times a day and, even though my weight was normal, it was pointed out to me that my heart wouldn't function if my electrolytes got out of whack. I was having heart palpitations, shortness of breath, fatigue, fainting spells, my hair was falling out, my teeth were weak and sensitive, my fingers had cuts all over the knuckles, I wasn't sleeping properly, my throat was constantly sore and croaky, my nails were dry and brittle and I was getting random muscle spasms. Among some other very wise quotes my GP told me two which really stood out; "you can redo your education, you cannot redo your health" and "Get yourself help before you are made to get help."

Because I was under 18 and what I was seeking treatment for is considered a mental illness I was obligated to tell my parents what was going on. I met my dad in Starbucks and told him. He replied with a joke "I knew your mother's cooking was bad, but I didn't realize it was that bad..." I tried to explain it to him, but at the stage I didn't have a diagnosis (they leave that to the eating disorder program). He didn't really understand, but promised not to tell my mum until I agreed. I made the appointment to have the assessment.

The night before the assessment I told my mum what was going on. She laughed at me, told me that it was something that I wanted; that I thought it was glamorous and trendy. She said that she wouldn't have any objection to me doing this if it worked and I was thin but I was so fat that I should try a different method, she also said that I didn't have an eating disorder, but the polycystic ovarian syndrome was making me act irrationally and that it was the problem, not my eating disorder. She said that I could have the assessment, but I should feel guilty about wasting resources because there were sick people who needed the support more than me. I did go to the assessment, but as the self-fulfilling prophecy goes, I felt so guilty.

A week later I got a letter from the program at my GPs which said that I had Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified (EDNOS) and that I was accepted into one of their programs to receive cognitive behavioural therapy (CBT). My parents said they would rather me see a specialist for the polycystic ovarian syndrome, rather than get help for my eating disorder. I was partially relieved because it would mean that I didn't have to stop my eating disordered behaviours, which I wasn't sure if I was ready to do - one of my irrational fears was not being able to stop. I had to call the program and tell them that I didn't want to accept their offer of treatment.

We saw a polycystic ovarian syndrome specialist in Sydney and he suggested some medicine I could go on after I'd seen a nutritionist and maybe gotten a little better from my eating disorder and only if I felt I really, really needed it - which I didn't feel. I had heard bad things about this medication and wasn't keen to try it out and, as I'm older than 16 I have recently found out that I can legally deny medical treatment. The only word my mother heard in that sentence was 'medication' and she very keen for me to try it. I talked it through with my GP and she said that it was unnecessary and that the specialist shouldn't have prescribed it until I'd tried the nutritionist. Polycystic ovarian syndrome is manageable but not curable and mine is so mild that it doesn't impact on my life. All I have to do is eat low-GI foods and exercise regularly.

The relationship with my mother had broken down further and I told a teacher some of the things which were going on at home and about the eating disorder. She told me that it was duty of care and she had to tell the school counsellor. The counsellor gave me the names of some refuges and other things I might need to know. She also told me she might have to report my mother to care and protection because she was denying me treatment for a treatable mental illness.

I had a huge fight with my Mum in which she hit me and I walked out of home about a week after I'd talked to the counsellor, my dad stayed (ironically enough) in the kitchen (everything seems to come back to food in my life!). I stayed at a friend's house and then my school convinced me to stay at the school for the following night. My parents came to the school the following day for mediation which was biased and unfair for me. I agreed to go home, but things were even worse. My mother had managed to convince the school that because of the polycystic ovarian syndrome, I was mental and unable to make a rational decision (although the hormones which are affected by the polycystic ovarian syndrome are different to the ones which make you think and my mother asked the specialist about this after she'd told the school and he said that polycystic ovarian syndrome couldn't make anyone insane) and the best place for me was at home.

After another fight where my mother told me I was the one who had to change. I thought "right! I will make a change! I'm going!" and I left again (seems to be a recurring theme with me!). This time I contacted a youth refuge and I stayed there for a night. I refused to tell her where I was going. My mother got one of her friends to call me, and I talked to her, but refused to tell her where I was staying. She managed to convince me to stay with her for a bit, until we could work this all out. I trusted her because I had no one else. My eating disorder was getting more and more out of control, I had no idea where I was going to go from the refuge and I was scared about my future. After I moved into her house I started telling her more and more what had been going on - she had realised part of it, but not the extent of it and not the damage it had done to me.

She was happy for me to stay with her until I finished year 12. However, my mother made it too difficult for me to stay with her and I moved, again, into a refuge. I am still living in the refuge, and contact is very slowly being made with my parents. I hope that I will still be able to have a relationship with the, regardless of whether or not I decide to move back home.

Just because I live out of home and have to worry about bills, food, washing as well as homework doesn't meant that I don't want to do things with my life. I will go to university, no matter how long it takes me to get there, if nothing but to spite my mother and prove to her that I can actually be a 'success story' (whatever 'success' is). I want to do a psychology/nursing or nursing/nutrition degree so that I can help adolescents who have gone through the same or similar things I have.

Although I'm not recovered from my eating disorder yet -  I still struggle everyday -  I'm far from how sick I was just a few months ago. I have a nutritionist and I have a meal plan - 3 meals, 3 snacks a day. I don't purge anymore, although sometimes I do slip up, but it's so much better. I'm feeling healthy and I know I need to get better so that I can concentrate for my year 12. The anxiety and depression isn't quite as bad as it was, although sometimes I still have my days. My GP is a continuing support for me and I know I can beat this. She is always so kind and supportive and she told me I was an "angel" a few days ago. She knows that I can beat this just as much as I can and her belief in me makes me even more determined to get better.

I wouldn't have been able to do it without the support and protection of my friends, their parents, youth workers, social workers, teachers, counsellors, my GP, nutritionist and my boss. It amazes me how generous these people can be, even if they're dealing with their own problems. So many people have offered me accommodation if I have no where else to go so that I don't have to go back to the refuge (although it was fine being there!) and people have offered me money, material possessions which I've left at home. My teachers have done what they can to stop me from failing school by putting in place support networks. It's such an inspirational and comforting thought to know that when you really are in need, that people will put aside everything to help you. I am eternally indebted to these people.

One thing about leaving home is, if you need to do it. Go for it, there are so many people who will support you and help you. There will be times when you will feel so very alone, but these are short lived. All I have to do is realise how much people really do care about me and how supportive they have been and almost instantly the loneliness has disappeared. I keep myself busy and spend time with friends. I feel so privileged to know so many amazing people. Sometimes I will start to feel depressed and sad, but my telepathic friends have always sent an SMS, email or called me 'just to chat' - even if I haven't asked for their help.

However, if you think it's going to be easy, take off your rose coloured glasses. I haven't been able to see my brothers or my parents; I have ripped apart the fabric of my family. I've had to become very independent and do things I wouldn't normally do (such as catching buses and explaining the situation to my boss, teachers, GP, etc.) I have to pay rent, buy food and budget so that I can afford this. Finances are always a problem, but I can get through this. I have to be disciplined about doing my school work and study because I don't have parents nagging me to get it done (although the woman I'm living with is pretty keen on doing well in school) and I have to make sure that I do the work so that I can get a good enough UAI to go to university. I have to cook all my meals and make sure that I look after myself because no one else is going to do it for me. I have to do all my own washing, keep my room clean, clean the bathroom, make sure that I have enough school books, clothes, shoes, etc. and make sure that I have enough money to buy these things. I have to deal with the guilt that I have single-handedly destroyed my family.

The James Blunt Song "Beautiful" always makes me smile because it's so true "You're beautiful, you're beautiful, you're beautiful, it's true". These words are so honest and describe every young person on the face of this earth. Just because I've left home doesn't mean that I don't love my family. I never did this to hurt anyone; I did it to protect myself. There are times when, no matter how much you want to give; you have to choose to look after number 1 - yourself.