You wouldn’t believe it, but this was me at my most ‘poorly’.
I don’t look it though, do I?
That’s because despite the fact I’d started skipping periods, my head being full of food thoughts 24/7 and not consuming anywhere near enough calories; I was still a ‘healthy’ weight according to the BMI chart.
I was 29 in this photo, and my food obsession was at its all-time high. I was in London and wouldn’t eat anything until I found a smoothie. I HAD to start my day with a smoothie; otherwise, I thought I was abusing my digestive system 🤯 (I finally found my smoothie at lunchtime.)…
I was never diagnosed with an eating disorder, and I don’t think I ever would have been. I went to the doctor when I started skipping periods (because I would never have thought it was down to disordered eating - I thought I was eating so healthy).
The doctor was baffled and said it must just be stress, “Try reducing your stress load”, they said. They didn’t even ask about my eating habits. Why would they? I looked fine, and my BMI was always in the 'healthy' range.
Eating disorders are a mental illness before they become a physical illness. The thoughts and behaviours start way before they have a physical impact. This is why the paradigm of diagnoses needs to change, and not only diagnosing because someone is underweight. In my opinion, it should be measured by how much of a person's headspace is being consumed with thoughts around food and exercise and how obsessive their behaviour is becoming.
I’ve not told many people this, but when I was at my lowest weight, I used to wish that I had the willpower to have anorexia (because I thought that meant never eating anything, ever). I would always feel like I was weak because the best I could do was skip meals, eat clean and exercise as much as possible. I had no idea that I was most probably in the depths of orthorexia.
I don’t really have a definitive turning point in my life, but at some point three years ago, I decided to invest in healing my relationship with my body. I don’t know why. But on reflection now, I think I was just tired. Tired of constantly thinking about what I was putting in my mouth, tired of feeling guilty, tired of feeling like I had to compensate, just bloody tired.
Now, a few years on and a constant work-in-progress, I feel like I can breathe. I won’t lie and say the odd thoughts no longer enter my head, but I can squash them immediately and even do the opposite and do my best to p**s it off.
It’s liberating, and I’m free 🤍
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