I came to understand that only I could change the direction of my life. I took a spiritual path and learned about my chakras (energy centers). I looked for progressive therapies, such as acupuncture and cognitive behavioral therapy. The more I read, the more I questioned how I could change my behavior. I took solace in the Serenity Prayer and began reading avidly - Eckhart Tolle, Louise Hay, and many others. I knew I needed to accept there was much in my life I could not change: that we had no money, that I was a refugee. My long process of healing began at the hospital.
I feared them, and what their desperation implied about me. I still believed I was somehow in control, better than the others in group therapy, who had crazy habits and stories about how far they'd go to avoid food. Should I have told my doctors that my anorexia was a suicide attempt? That I sometimes felt such self-hatred I'd scratch my body so the physical pain would distract me from the pain inside? I participated in both inpatient and outpatient group therapy every day for nine months, from morning until dinner time. I sought medical help and was admitted to the care of a team of eating disorder specialists. My electrolytes were low and my body was fighting to survive. I was fading away in what seemed the most peaceful way.Įventually I realized I had a choice to live or die, and I chose to live. Even bodily functions like peeing and pooping no longer existed. Hours would pass, and I took comfort in feeling no need to move forward, no ambition or curiosity about what the world might offer. What I remember most during this time was the stillness in my mind. I believed I was dying slowly of a broken heart. I spent my days and nights staring out the window in my room, and it was there I started feeling the irregular heartbeats. My mother and I lived on the second floor, and I would huff and puff my way up the stairs. With little reserves, I began experiencing abnormal heart palpitations. I became more isolated and withdrawn, too weak to breathe normally. I was cold all the time - not just my hands and feet, but my entire body. The smell and sight of food began to disgust me. I took comfort in knowing that nothing could hurt me, because I was in perfect control. My obsession with food eclipsed my anxiety about my life. I became afraid of food, and a great sense of sadness and paranoia consumed me. I wore baggy clothes and hid in my home as I skipped more and more meals, losing the few friends I had. Soon anorexia took over my life, distorting all sense of reality.
Starving myself gave me a sense of success and control, when I'd previously felt helpless. I enjoyed the high I felt when I skipped a meal and soon became addicted to that dopamine rush.
Trying to do something worthwhile, I took control of the amount of food I ate. My single mother worked in a factory and I was left home alone most of the day. The trauma of this experience, along with the cold welcome at my uncle's house, was the origin of my disordered eating. When I was 11, my mother and I had fled a drug war in Colombia and moved to my uncle's home in Toronto. As a teenager, I was convinced I didn't have control over my life, and I didn't wish anything good for myself. I didn't relate to these group sessions because much of my anorexia stemmed from my anxiety about an uncertain future. Now I realize she'd probably had similar struggles. The therapist explained that society exerts pressure on women by portraying female beauty as a picture-perfect size zero.This seemed ironic to me, since she was an achingly thin blonde. I was in treatment for eating disorders at a Toronto hospital, having starved myself since I was 14. When I was 20, my group therapist told me that anorexia was a disease that develops in overachievers, especially young girls who put pressure on themselves.
#Anorexia success story professional#
Please always consult your health care professional with personal concerns or questions. This story is part of our Real Women, Real Stories series, documenting the lived experiences of women along their health journeys.
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