Making space for life

There has been a multitude of metaphors I have heard during my time in treatment. Many times I have been referred to as a car needing fuel or a machine needing power. I have a pretty short attention span or regard for these metaphors. They are true and helpful to some, but once you’ve been compared to a car for about the 50th time in a session, it is understandably exhausting (cue bad joke sound effect). One metaphor that has stuck with me, however, is one my mum once told me that explained how she viewed the illness. In a similar way to an octopus, anorexia has tentacles. These tentacles grasp onto every aspect of your life. Family, friends, studies, interests, general health, sleep, development; the impacts are profound and wide-ranging. Once the tentacles have taken hold, they will hold the sufferer paralysed in fear. They control all aforementioned aspects, which can be inviting and feel safe to an individual at first. They offer retreat and rigidity in a world which can feel so turbulent. The harsh reality is that their grip leaves little room for the flexibility, spontaneity, and fun truly living brings. Anorexia shrinks your life to become numbers, routines, timings, exercise, food, worrying, and the feeling of achievement it promises never materialises. Your life becomes void of enjoyment or experience, but full of eating disorder rules with the impact of malnutrition increasing the perceived need for an eating disorder in one’s life.

So, the harsh reality of living with an eating disorder is that your life becomes solely dictated by its governance. This can act as a maintaining factor, as one may think they cannot recover as they don’t know what life looks like without its presence. Some may have developed the illness at key stages of development which form one’s identity. Peers begin to study, form relationships, take up new hobbies and interests which constitute part of their being. These give a sense of meaning, purpose and connection. An individual within the grasp of an eating disorder can be prevented from these discoveries. In my experience, as the eating disorder took control in my early teenage years, I’ve been left with a fear of losing the illness and the space in my life it holds. In order to shrink the eating disorder, individuals must face discovering a new identity, try new things and redefine themselves from feeling the need to live in the eating disorder’s tentacles of control.

Trying to envision and embrace rediscovery of oneself is daunting. Suddenly, whole new areas of life that were neglected come into view. It is scary and overwhelming to suddenly be mid-twenties and trying to recover all you’ve missed developing an illness in your early teens. I’ve found, with an amazing community of family and friends who I’m forever grateful for, it is possible to navigate this change.

It wouldn’t come as much of a surprise to mention that for me, the part of my identity I began to rediscover and make space for was my love of art. Initially rediscovered simply as I had nothing else to do in hospital, art has become a respite from struggle. Tapping into this distraction, even if I didn’t think and still find it hard to have any faith in my abilities, allowed me to feel there was more meaning and space for me in life than living by anorexia’s rules. As the title implies, to make less space for the illness, one must make space for life. Making space for life and establishing new interests can be done in baby steps, or you may naturally fall upon new interests. Unfortunately, often you have to actively try to find this new part of yourself and give energy to pursuing it. Alongside the monumental effort of fighting the illness all day, every day, this is difficult. It can seem easier to fall back into the safety net it provides. But ultimately, it will only bring a monotonous, painful, and boring existence. I would rather have a life full of connection, enjoyment, and smiles than being a human pin cushion with copious blood tests or being told I’m a car and force-fed gallons of milk on a regimented meal plan.

Navigating recovery every day is exhausting. However, energy is gained from openings of hope, seeing and grasping the small wins, and allowing oneself to connect with a sense of excitement and curiosity. Over the recent bank holiday weekend, I showed artwork on the Henley Arts Trail. Inspired by the title, I was kindly given a place at the Maker’s Space in Nettlebed to show my work alongside many other talented creators. This event led me to reflect on this new part of my identity and, though with a great feeling of imposter syndrome, connect with my ambition to keep exploring the avenue art is bringing me to explore. For the first time in a long, long time, I felt the promise of being someone not seen for my eating disorder. I wasn’t living each day solely in its grips, but exploring a whole new world of connection, creativity, and a new sense of purpose. People do not take interest in your rigid, boring, monotonous existence with anorexia, unless they are caring for you as they are forced to. People do, however, appreciate you for your values, and connections will form from similar interests or abilities to share experiences. The eating disorder is the least interesting thing about you, even though when struggling, it feels it is EVERYTHING you are. Despite giving myself a slight ick in saying it, this reflective ramble has been born out of my weekend ‘making space’ for life at the Maker’s Space. You have to let anorexia go to let new things in. This is terrifying and feels counterintuitive. Your eating disorder is known and ‘safe’, came about at a time when you felt it was needed to help navigate the world. However, it will take your life metaphorically and sadly, physically. Its promises never deliver as nothing is ever good enough. By relinquishing some control and tentatively stepping out of your comfort zone to either rediscover or discover new hobbies, interests, and values, momentum can be gained. Small wins show glimmers of new possibilities. I’ve begun to see snippets of what life can look like without being consumed by this illness, and it looks a whole lot better than hospital and waiting rooms. It looks scary, but ultimately surviving each day with an eating disorder my whole life seems terrifying too.

A big thank you to all those who I met, both creators and visitors, on the Henley Arts Trail and at the Maker’s Space! The kindness of all around me, every smile or comment meant the world. I never envisioned pieces shoved under my bed being seen by others or even considered being bought, so this all feels very surreal! However, each person along the way has helped me to discover this new part of my identity and motivate me on my recovery journey.