My mother was a tiny and very beautiful woman – well tiny and beautiful to me. And I was a big baby. A BIG BABY! I weighed in at 10lb 10oz – a big, fat, healthy blob of baby girl. This scared (and disappointed) the living daylights out of her, and for a woman deeply, deeply concerned about physical appearance, a fat baby (and a girl no less!) was not good news. At four weeks old she tried putting a positive spin on my “weight problem”, with her first entry in my baby book:

She has red hair, blue eyes, lashes darkening. Is beautiful now, though all her double chins are marring her beauty at present. We love her though. We will have to slim her down soon, I can see that.

I had a very specific role in our family – as did my siblings – I was responsible. I had to be good, and clever (not too clever – nobody likes a show off), and strong enough to care for everyone, (but for god’s sake don’t show any emotion because nobody has time to deal with all that attention seeking). These lessons weren’t articulated in words, but in actions – in the reinforcement of “correct” behaviours, and the endless criticism of anything considered unacceptable.   As a child, I tried so hard to be responsible and good and to do anything to make my mother proud – in fact despite the absurdity of it, I am still seeking her approval seven years after she died!   But the main reason I know I wasn’t good enough? My first day home from hospital, holding my newborn and overcome with love and wonder, she looked at me and said, “All my children have been a tremendous disappointment to me.” I’m not sure of her intent? I think she was probably trying to say my perfect baby will disappoint me one day. That all the hopes and dreams I have, won’t unfold as anticipated. What I heard was, “Nothing about you has ever been, and will ever be, good enough.” I left the room, speechless.

So, what does that have to do with an eating disorder? Nobody gets pleasure from binging and purging and starving. Or spending every waking moment thinking about food – feeling horrendous guilt and shame at every morsel that passes their lips and trying to develop strategies to avoid eating altogether. An eating disorder is simply a very bad way of coping. Everyone with an eating disorder, is trying to cope with something and there are common threads for most of us – depression and anxiety, perfectionism, and over-developed sensitivities to name a few. But at the end of the day, the binge-purge-restrict behaviours deaden everything. If you believe in your heart and soul you are not good enough – that your inherent value is in your looks and what you do for others – and if you have been told all your formative years nothing about you is enough – you will find a way to numb that inevitable self-loathing. Some might use alcohol, illicit drugs, sex or gambling. But some people use food – too much or too little. And I’m one of those someones.   I became so adept at burying emotions with food, I no longer felt them. Ever. I could wear a mask and offer the world a face filled with joy and contentment – eyes lit up, cheekbones high, and a smile from ear to ear. But the underlying fears – of failure and not measuring up, or being found to be a fraud, of getting fat again (the greatest fear of all) – they are easily buried in a bowl of cookie dough, a heaving torso over the porcelain bowl, or the haziness that comes with not eating anything at all for three days straight.

As an adult, I control when, where, what and how I eat. But as a child, my mother controlled what I ate (or in her absence my grandmother or sister would step in). Desserts were sometimes forbidden (but not so my skinny siblings). I was expected to finish every bite (think of the starving children in Ethiopia!), but never ask for seconds, overeat or look greedy. Sometimes I was cautioned to diet, while skinnier folk were encouraged to feast. Even eating out was not a freedom – choose a small serve of the healthy option. And reminder – don’t eat dessert, no seconds, and I’m watching you. My eating behaviours always seemed to be noticed – and commented upon.   Now I’m sure all that sounds normal (or not? I don’t have perspective) but when coupled with a learned emphasis on the importance of weight and beauty, and a subconscious need to numb everything, abdicating control over something that gave me such joy, left me desperate for the day when I could eat what I want, when I want and where I want. And trust me, that day came! Despite having spent 32 years outside the family home, I still feel a need to “let” myself have a treat, and deprivation is a constant gnawing hunger in the pit of my stomach.

If you want a child – or a monkey, or a cat or any kind of teachable animal – to learn to do something, positive reinforcement is a great way to do it! And the strongest positive reinforcement of negative behaviours I experienced, was compliments any and every time I lost weight. Rarely do people ask how weight is lost before they compliment – it usually goes like this: “Wow! You look great! How did you lose the weight?” And it would be a brave young woman indeed who confessed to purging, laxatives and over-exercising, in a desperate attempt to fit into society.

The greatest success I attained in losing weight was purging – which started around age 22 for me. I have no recollection of that first time, or why I thought it was a good idea. But I learned very, very quickly that it worked – despite the fact that at that point in time, I was not (and had never really been) overweight. Prior to that I’d lost weight on and off through sensible diets, non-sensible diets, ridiculous diets, unsafe diets, stupid diets, diets in magazines, in books and retold by friends (no google internet searches in the 1980s!) And of course put the weight back on – plus that little bit extra – every time the diet inevitably ended.

I am now, however attempting to build my recovery puzzle – and I need a lot of pieces to come together! I am currently under the care of a very fine set of health professionals, and I continue to seek support and information through the internet – sometimes information that helps, and sometimes information that hinders. But I’m still here! I talk to friends and to other people with the same affliction. I keep plugging away in the vain hope that one day I can “eat like a normal person”. I don’t even know what that is…

If you’re out there, developing an eating disorder or firmly entrenched in one, here’s a couple of things I have learned when it comes to that recovery puzzle – and I write these as a reminder for myself to just keep going: