That’s not normal : Wrapping up twelve months of freedom
Finishing the series of twelve learnings out of hospital brings me to one unanswerable question: what is normal? At what point does my behaviour become no longer ‘normal’ and instead led by my illness? After three quite lengthy admissions which came in quick succession, I found myself having missed quite formative years where my friends had moved on and experienced areas I had yet to explore. ‘Normal’ for me, having spent time confined to four walls where you weren’t even trusted to go to the toilet without supervision, was very different to others my age. Leaving hospital makes you realise all you have missed, and your ‘normal’ is truly far from the usual expectations. As I have reflected on, life for others does not stop just as yours has. This is scary to acknowledge and come to terms with once you leave hospital. You are suddenly thrown into fast-moving reality, away from the regimented timetable of hospital routine. Years of life you missed in which you learn more about yourself and the world around you suddenly become noticeable, and you can feel you are trying to play ‘catch up’.
The hospital ‘routine’ which you become accustomed to is far from the subjective normal. I realised this, as whilst I was talking to my friends about community meetings, DBT groups, and dietetic forums, they were talking about clubbing, relationships, and much more entertaining things. Anorexia and eating disorders in general strip your world of all things ‘fun’. Additionally, in hospital, you are surrounded by others struggling. There are some behaviours, though everyone experiences eating disorders in a unique way, which can be commonly seen. These may occur from the scientific impact of malnutrition and restriction. Again, I am no expert, so do not read what I am saying as factually correct! Behaviours may stem from malnutrition, exacerbated sometimes when in hospital as you can also take on others’ behaviours. This may be unintentional or, given the sometimes competitive nature of the illness, noticed and copied. Though there is no real ‘normal’, trust me when I say some things I’ve seen or done don’t even cross the far-ranging boundaries. I will not recount the more triggering or fearful behaviours I have seen, as the harsh reality is eating disorders will lead a sufferer to their deathbed. These behaviours, when extreme, are not performed or ‘fun’. They are sadly compulsive, and a sufferer may feel locked in routine and unable to stop themselves from engaging in them. They can be shrouded in shame, embarrassment, and fear, but feel simultaneously safe. In this blog post, I touch on the ‘lighter’ not-so-normals, but in sad truth, behaviours are rooted in fear, distrust, and the scary impact of malnutrition on the body.
Three moments in which I have realised my eating disorder is far from normal or ideal:
A very potent soup: A belief of my eating disorder is that I am undeserving of nice things. As a result, I really struggle with food waste, spending money, and allowing myself ‘nicer’ things. I can see the irrationality in this, as I would never say to someone that they don’t deserve food. Whilst it is good to be aware of food waste and try to limit it, at times it should be accepted when something needs to be thrown away. For example, browning sprouts. At Christmas, suddenly finding a passion for making soup and using up leftovers, this was discovered. Already a challenging time with a focus on food, I had anxiously been watching a bag of sprouts browning in the drawer. Alongside some other Christmas veg, I decided to turn my hand to cooking and become a domestic goddess. At lunchtime, I proudly presented my green concoction and was shocked at the others turning down my creation in favour of their more traditional Christmas leftovers. On reflection, it was a damn well thing they did. I will not over-elaborate for the sake of DEFINITELY not wanting to put anyone off their dinner. But, with the digestive challenges already experienced when one has an eating disorder, leftover sprout soup is not high up on things conducive to one’s health. So I learned some things need to be let go. You can work to reduce food waste, but in ways not feeding into disordered behaviour. I have previously been told biologically hoarding can be a behaviour which occurs, with the body responding to starvation in a more primitive way. Where in the past we lived in a more ‘hunter-gatherer’ style, my brain seems to at times go into a hoarding mode as it expects a shortage of food due to the deprivation of basic needs. I struggle to let things go, even browning sprouts, potentially due to this. If I notice myself hoarding things or worrying about waste, I try to now take a step back. I remind myself I do not need to stockpile things, as my body’s needs can and will be met. With the repeated action of meeting your body’s needs, the body can come out of survival ‘cave-man’ mode, and with time, thought patterns will ease.
As mentioned, an additional behavioural pattern which can occur is hoarding food. This is, again, a potential primitive response to starvation. Where you are fearing another shortage, your body can respond by feeling the need to hoard items. I found myself doing this without realising, and it only came once my mum commented on the amount of beans I seemed to be collecting in the cupboard. Thankfully, my parents cannot run a mile from me in judgement; however, anyone else may have done. When we opened the cupboard, there was NO room for anything else with the vast amount of beans I had collected. The deceptive nature of the illness can convince you deeply that everything is fine and ‘normal’ for its justification. In my case, it was everyone else with the problem. But when picked up on, I realised I had collected a whole lot of beans. This didn’t just arise with beans, but when I realised this pattern with them, I identified many other ways in which I was stockpiling. The discovery of some of this hoarding resulted in some thoughts of what the… On discharge once from hospital, I returned home to find a packet of carefully rewrapped Hobnobs in my underwear drawers. Whilst I had been safely reassuring my family of their consumption, I couldn’t then face throwing them away for fear of wastage. Instead, I seemed to have collected the best of the McVities factory in my pants. If anyone ever falls into the fake delusion that anorexia is a classy illness, this is only a light reality of why it is not. To challenge the behaviour, I actively started going against the collection of items. With increased nourishment to the brain, this fear of scarcity can and will ease with time. As is the way in recovery, it is allowing your body to learn to trust you again and do its natural thing. Though I hate the term ‘your body is a machine’, your body is capable and pretty amazing at functioning without the disruption an eating disorder will cause. It will convince you that everything is ‘normal’, but when reflected on, it’s far from!
A final ‘that was not a normal moment’ comes from reflections on hospital experience. Hospital becomes what feels normal, but when you start recounting tales to those who haven’t been ‘incarcerated’, you realise your reality for that period was TOTALLY different to others. Whilst others were negotiating the trials and tribulations of adolescence, sneaking into clubs underage or gaining degrees, I was spending Tuesday mornings in dietetic forums discussing the appropriate use of ketchup. These conversations could go on for HOURS, as patients passionately defended their use of ketchup, squash, and the rules and regulations around other such condiments. This is quite a contentious topic on inpatient units I have gathered, which I will not ramble on about the ins and outs of, but some may use condiments in a way again not deemed ‘normal’ to society. The contention arises from the confusion people may feel about what is their preference vs. a behaviour which can in turn lead to some debates with dieticians and professionals. Anyway, the brief takeaway is that spending hours in meetings where the sole topic of conversation becomes ketchup usage is not the normal expectation of the life you dream of having when little.
So, twelve months of inpatient freedom summarised in twelve learnings. I have learned within this series that there is a whole lot more, and confining it to twelve is impossible. Additionally, I have learned I am a major rambler, so if anyone is still reading, I apologise in advance and commend your patience for even sticking with this! These twelve months (which have now turned into a few more given my slow pace) have been FAR from easy, and at times I’ve had to fight to convince others I can continue out of hospital and battle this illness. It is exhausting, and at times the battle does feel relentless and impossible. But, these moments will pass. Nothing is constant, and things will change, sometimes for the better and sometimes for the worse. I am not writing this as someone who has recovered and can sing the praises of freedom, but I will keep trying in the hope one day soon I can. To others struggling, keep on keeping on. Remember you are not alone, and keep those who help around you. It is definitely far from easy to navigate, but I am a believer that full recovery is possible and deserved by all!