Twelve lessons over twelve months : she doesn’t need therapy, she needs an exorcism!
‘Can you sit back in the wheelchair, please?’
‘Can you shove that up your arse?’
From a seemingly quiet and fairly timid person, the staff member was understandably taken aback by this sudden retort. A second later, as was I. Who was this rude, aggressive, and vitriolic person that just told someone to shove a whole wheelchair up their arse before they threw a banana across the room? What a nutcase. Embarrassingly, that nutcase was me.
When meeting friends, they have been in disbelief at my atrocious accounts of behaviour I exhibited when in treatment. Despite growing up as a frankly painfully shy person at times, there are some moments following the development of anorexia which completely contrast the aforementioned. These moments, though sometimes reflected on with humour, are also shrouded in shame and lead me to question myself and my own identity. Some people, when I question how I can behave this way and not be a ‘bad’ person, justify actions on the basis of being ill. You didn’t do that, it was anorexia. It’s not you, it’s anorexia. It’s not Josephine, it’s anorexia. The character I became in retaliation to treatment and attempts to help me was so different that someone once joked I was possessed. Furthering this, my mum famously quoted in a meeting, “she doesn’t need therapy, she needs an exorcism” or a lady at CAHMS’s favourite quote was “sounds like Josie, looks like Josie, isn't Josie”.
Lesson eleven out of my twelve rambling realisations of recovery out of hospital is that your identity can be challenging to establish away from anorexia. How can you know what is ‘anorexia’ and what is you? To what extent can I blame an illness for my behaviour, and when does the boundary blur to just being me? A major aspect some can struggle with in recovery is knowing your identity away from the illness. The fear of this uncertainty can again fuel the cycle of illness. Since struggling in early teens, anorexia built a large part of my life. The identity of being the ‘ill’ person can become reinforced, as that is what you become. Anorexia does not care for your true identity or consider true values. It will fight to protect itself, diminishing any compassion or ability for empathy. Leaving hospital and re-entering the ‘real’ world comes with challenges. You have to recover and discover your ‘true’ identity, learn to value this identity you once gave up to anorexia, and embrace this change. Given anorexia may be developed in very early, formative years, your identity may be completely different to who you were before. In both an exciting yet daunting way, anorexia recovery can require complete rediscovery of who you are. If you developed the illness, for example, when you were twelve, re-entering the world as a twenty-five-year-old will feel completely different.
How do you negotiate the uncertainty of knowing what you are? Some people do find complete externalisation helpful in recovery, deeming it a sort of break-up from a relationship style. I find I can’t completely externalise the illness from myself, as logically it is me. To challenge the thoughts I am a bad person for the things I have said and done, I do not displace blame completely on being ‘il.’, but do consider the harmful impact of anorexia on the body. Scientifically, I can see how the impact of the illness anorexia has caused more ‘eruptive’ behaviour. A starved brain cannot function and scarily the more ‘unnecessary’ functions will be stopped to prioritise staying alive. As a result, you will not be 100% yourself as your body is fighting the impact of not being looked after. Additionally, something that keeps you alive, nutrition and meeting basic needs, has become irrationally feared. My body had gone into fight or flight. The fight wasn’t needed, but biologically and mentally at that time, it felt required to survive and protect myself. The behaviour came from me; I cannot say ‘that was not Josephine, that was anorexia’, but I can say that was how I acted when I was struggling with the impact of not looking after myself. As the Snickers advert says, you’re not you when you’re hungry.
Given the complex nature of the subject, even without anorexia, the topic of identity could be explored forever. Anorexia will cause you to feel a stranger to yourself, hate yourself for the way you acted in its defence, and confuse a sufferer to fuel its existence. The fear of recovery can be exacerbated by the idea of having to establish an identity completely new. You will question who you will be without the illness? Will others accept you with this new identity? Rationally, I know this point is easily answered. If someone is a true friend, they are not going to say ‘yes, I preferred you when you were struggling and miserable’ and ditch you. If they were to do that, you are probably best to let them ditch you. Also, the blunt truth is an eating disorder can make you feel special, but it actually makes you pretty boring. You cannot join in, laugh, converse with others or think about anything but anorexia. No one wants to sit and have a discussion about meal plans, recipes, exercise or the thoughts anorexia can bombard you with. People will want to talk, however, about your interests, passions, hopes for the future or see you come alive when you find what brings you joy.
I, sadly, cannot write as someone who has found their identity away from this completely, yet it is something I discover daily. In embracing recovery you can tentatively discover your identity and navigate the fear of the unknown. This year, I have found some old parts of the Josephine I was, and the Josephine I would also like to become without the shroud of anorexia. I will not let the moments I behaved pretty questionably define me. Yes, they were me, I cannot absolve responsibility and say what nutter did that?! But I can fall in love with life again and embrace the excitement of becoming someone new, not letting the guilt of the past further fuel self-destruction. Recovery is scary, but holds far more promise than remaining as the ill person who told someone to shove a wheelchair up their ar*e when told to eat a banana.
Some thoughts on how to rediscover your identity:
Journalling activities exploring what matters to you.
Trying new hobbies; if it’s not enjoyable, you can just try something else! Making a bucket list with different things to try could lead to new discoveries, and you’ve made a memory, whatever!
Ask loved ones what they appreciate about you away from the illness.
Considering your values and how you can act in line with them daily.
Restyling yourself if you have the means to, or upcycling clothes to try different styles and refresh your wardrobe.
If sensible to, say yes more! Obviously not to everything, but with the correct balance of pushing yourself and staying safe, say yes to new things! I found, though often not wanting to say yes to new things, once I had challenged my anxieties and pushed myself, I felt a sense of achievement and contentment.