EATING SICKNESS

A story of anorexia nervosa.

    When anorexia nervosa crept into my mind, I wasn’t quite sure. Maybe it was always there, hovering on the fringes of my consciousness, just waiting for the right moment to strike, to descend, to take control of my every thought, my hopes, and my desires. All I remember is one day I woke up and found myself on the threshold of anorexia nervosa, the new dictator of my life.

    That morning in January 1984 I decided I no longer wanted to eat; my life was horrible, totally out of control. One thing that was tormenting me was my job situation; it was on the line every six months, voters decided to either approve or disapprove a budget measure that would either fund the public library where I worked with enough money so I could keep my job or not. This happened every six months for a period of time and was very stressful and traumatic for me. It wasn’t up to me whether I kept my job by doing a good job at work but up to the voters of Multnomah County. And they were not so concerned if I kept my job or not.

    My descent into starvation began that January morning in 1984. But my job situation was not the only things; my whole existence had been a painful one clear up to that morning in January. It was just the last thing, the final situation when my endurance broke at last and I couldn’t cope with life anymore.  I did not know then my descent into starvation would never end, that it would take over my very existence, that a disease would so completely control my every thought, my every decision that I made, that it would control me totally. And the end result could very well be death by starvation.

   I gradually stopped eating. I kept myself in a constant hungry state, that way I knew I was losing weight. I slowly ate less and less. I knew from experience I could not just give up eating all at once. My body had to learn to go without slowly, gradually. And it worked wonderfully. I became so use to the hunger state that after a while I no longer noticed it. How splendid. Starvation came easy after several months of conditioning.

    For me this was a positive thing. I had always hated eating, way back as a child. I lived in fear of being poisoned somehow. Either by food bought in a store or by my mother. The dread of being poisoned was always there. As I grew older and began reading science fiction fantasy novels I wished I could survive off wafers or pills like the characters in books did. I just wanted to stop eating all together.

   And the proof of my success of not eating was measured by how much weight I was losing. And I was losing weight. I had never been fat and my goal was not to lose weight so I wouldn’t be fat but I used that as an excuse when I had to. I exercised all the time, went walking for hours and ate less and less. The more weight I lost the better I felt. I was succeeding finally at last at something. I was getting closer and closer to my ultimate goal, not having to eat at all!

    The anorexia got a stronger and stronger grip on me. At some point during the summer I decided I didn’t want to do this anymore, I wanted to eat again. But I couldn’t. The guilt at eating more than I was allowed was so overwhelmingly painful and horrible I couldn’t overcome it. I just worked harder and harder at eating less and less.

    I kept losing weight. I was growing weaker and weaker but that was just a sign of success, a reason to be proud. I passed out once on one of my long walks across town. Lucky I had a bit of food and drink on me so I could eat that, get up and keep on going.

    I felt I was a wonderful success! I could avoid eating where other people were weak, they’d say how they had eaten too much and felt sick, had to loosen their pants or something shameful like that. I didn’t. I hardly touched food at all anymore. And I kept losing weight.

    During the early years of my eating disorder while working at the public library I saw books on anorexia nervosa, bulimia and eating disorders and I wondered if I had an eating disorder, if I needed help. I looked through them and they all said that victims of these illnesses all felt hungry all the time. This was not true for me. I never felt hungry anymore. But I did think all the time about food. Food commercials on TV tormented me. I watched them in helpless fascination. I wanted to eat but the illness would no longer allow me to eat.

    Several times in public I came close to passing out. Once in Powell’s book store I nearly did, that blackness and awful feeling came rushing upon me. But luckily I didn’t pass out then.

    My whole existence had become just that one thing, losing weight. I quit my job at the public library and went to college and graduated with a degree and two diplomas. From there I transferred to a university. Doing this during some of the darkest years of starvation. I had no problem with my classes or keeping up. I kept losing weight, surviving off a couple spoonfuls of yogurt a day or a small bag of chips. I just kept going and the starving years kept on going by. I graduated from university with a BA degree.

    During those dark years self injury entered the picture. Because of the awful guilt I felt one time eating a cookie that I knew I shouldn’t have eaten I felt powerful, awful, shameful guilt. I made my first cut with a razor blade on my arm. The release of blood gave me such a profound relief that it was soon my habit for relief of emotional pain or when I felt nothing but a cold dead like numbness. I used wooden matches to burn myself for the same reason. Soon I had scars on my body from this method of self help.

    I tried throwing up too. During episodes when I gave in and ate I would use something to bring the stuff I’d just eaten up, to get it out before it made me fat. I did this for only a short period of time. I hated eating and then having to vomit it all up. It was unpleasant and inconvenient but the euphoria after vomiting was rather wonderful. But even so, eating and throwing up just didn’t make any sense for me. So bulimia never caught on for me. I preferred to be pure as I thought of it, not putting any of that awful substance called food into my stomach in the first place.

    I loved the empty starved feeling, I loved how powerful and in control I felt when I denied myself food. And it was so easy, so very easy. It had become my way of life and the years just went crawling by.

    I suffered from depression as well and thoughts of suicide crept in. I just wanted to escape the awfulness of my life. I tried an overdose of Excedrin early on and ended up in a psychiatric ward of a hospital. I cut a vein and let it bleed for several hours then guilt set in and I went to my doctor to have it stitched up. The doctor said I had only cut a minor vein. I tried other pills, some of them prescription pills, several times over the years. Seems I wasn’t very good at killing myself like I was at starving myself.

    So I set out to end my life by starvation. By then I was down to 95lbs and I stand at 5feet 9inches tall. I didn’t think I was thin enough; I still wanted to keep losing weight. I tried seeing a psychiatrist but he wasn’t at all helpful. He told me I was abnormal because I didn’t like to eat, he’d eat in front of me during our sessions saying he was really hungry and he was always late for our sessions. I could never think of anything to talk about and he was never helpful in that regard either, he’d just want me to tell him what the pain was, I wasn’t aware feeling any kind of pain. I ended up feeling like I was a bad patient and eventually I tried to kill myself.

    So came the day I decided to die by starvation. I retired to my bed and stopped eating all together. I’d drink just a half of a tea cup of water a day. I drifted in and out of consciousness and was always very disappointed when I woke up. I’m not dead yet, I’d think. I grew weaker but never so weak I couldn’t get up if I wanted to but I didn’t really have a reason to. I was high on starvation. It was a wonderful physical feeling where no pain at all bothers you anymore, no emotional or physical pain at all. It’s just a sort of euphoric feeling, it was so wonderful! I always wanted to feel that.

    A week went by of this self starvation and I kept on waking up. Death by starvation did not come. I was disappointed. I’d always believed what I heard all my life that if someone went a week without eating or drinking they’d die. I didn’t die.

    I finally picked myself up and kept living with anorexia nervosa, self injury and constant depression and feelings of suicide plaguing me.

    Anorexia nervosa became chronic for me, as well as cutting and burning myself. I graduated from college and university suffering from these problems and felt I had achieved something in my life.

    But seeking psychological help did no good. Therapists and doctors were hostile to people suffering any eating disorders and self injury in the middle 80s. Most often I heard that I could get well when ever I wanted to, all I had to do was stop hurting myself and start eating, I gave myself the illness so I could get rid of it too, or I was just trying to get attention. Guilt trips, lots and lots of guilt trips by the professionals.

    I’m sure it isn’t that way anymore. Eating disorders and self injury are in the mainstream today, not like in the early and middle 1980s, thankfully. But too late for me.

 

    

Author's Note

I posted this before under a different title.

Reviews

[Desert Dreamer]

A story to make others aware of what it is like to live with an eating disorder, this story has definitely helped me to understand. I hate it when doctors make their patients feel like a disorder or disease is the patients fault, it never helps and is rarely true. Thank you for sharing.

[Wolf's Dark Song]

This is a very sad and tragic story. Those suffering from eating disorders today have a much better chance of recovery since the illness has become so mainstream and common place, that's not saying its not as destructive but suffers do have a much better chance of help instead of being treated badly like naughty kids. Superb work.

[Eric Cox]

A tragic story. Life would be so much better if everyone cared and helped out each other. A very good write of some of the tragic conditions some of us unlucky ones have to live with.

[Star Wolf]

A very sad but real life story. You've done an awesome job describing the descent into an eating disorder, self-injury and want to suicide. Very painful but an awesome story.

[Black Cat Fever]

There's a lot of pain and tragedy in this. It just shows how doctors can and often are more harmful then helpful when it comes to problems such as these. You did an outstanding job writing about your experiences (I'm assuming here this was something you lived through) but even so, this is really really really good.

[Helen Woodward]

I'm not sure if this is non-fiction Tina because you have written it in the first person narrative, but whether it is or not you have brought awareness to those reading this story. I feel that Anorexia Nervosa, like Bulimia is in the beginning controlled by the sufferer, but as with any addiction it spirals out of control like a runaway horse. I recall Karen Carpenters struggle with it and it was painful to watch her because she looked skeletal and emaciated to everyone, but she thought she looked great. I never approached this subject from the point of view you have put forward here...that of wanting to die by starvation, to me it was always an 'image' thing...I have learned something today...THANK YOU!!!
:-)