A Girl Called Tim - my memoir - includes a description of my year in Missouri.

mothers around the world, I celebrated ‘Mother’s Day’ this past Sunday. I felt completely blessed, invited to brunch with all four children, and all five grand children. We sat in a lovely restaurant and I was purring with the bliss of being surrounded by family. Life was not always beautiful like this. In my 30s and 40s, with an eating disorder keeping my true self prisoner, Mother’s Days were  often painful reminders of  an inability to parent adequately. My children were my greatest inspiration for recovery, and thanks to them, here I am, free as a bird in my 60s, surrounded by them and their offspring, and eating pancakes. I must diverge a little to explain that I chose pancakes in fond memory of a dish my lovely American mom, Irene, made in her black skillet, every Sunday morning. I lived with Irene and her family as an AFS exchange student in Missouri, 1968-69, and she served a platter piled high with pancakes every Sunday before the family of eight packed into the ranch wagon and headed off to Sunday School and church. How blessed am I, to remain in touch with my American family, and look forward to visiting them in October this year.

Family. Whatever form it takes, we all need family. In addition to my children and grandchildren, I cherish my American family. This family was ‘chosen’ for me by the AFS committee, and yet more than 40 years later, remains as real as any family can be. I love my American Mom and Dad and my sisters and brothers, and my heart sings, because I know they love me.

For mothers who live with an eating disorder, motherhood is something extra special, as Kelly describes in this inspiring guest blog:

My eldest son, at his kindergarten Christmas concert, glanced at me from under his floppy reindeer ears, looking like he’d way prefer to be outside kicking a football than standing before a bunch of mothers and grandparents with camcorders. His look sparked memories of those hard years of recovery from anorexia.  Every day that I had cried uncontrollably, pulled at my hair, felt hopeless and prayed desperately to anyone who would listen to help free me from the torment, had led to this moment of being a proud mother in the audience.

“I had done it” – I had raised this social, articulate, well-adjusted little boy who was graduating from kindergarten and, at the age of five, was ready to start school. The moment was special for his fifth birthday had coincided with another milestone – the 10^th anniversary of when I first sat in a psychologist’s chair attempting to convince her that I wasn’t supposed to be there.  At the time I had all but screamed: “I’m not skinny enough to have anorexia.” The diagnosis, at age 27, proved otherwise. Now, the sight of this antler-clad son taking to the stage seemed to be cementing my recovery; not only had I recovered, I had accomplished something better, better than I had ever imagined. It was neither something that could be measured nor placed on my CV – it was more private, more notable. Motherhood had helped regain me.

I had battled anorexia in silence since my early teens. Not that I’m about to bore you with the details that come with several emotionally agonizing years of counselling. I’ve wasted enough time psycho-analyzing my stereo-typical-anorexic-past (perfectionist, eldest, high-achiever, low self-esteem). Instead I will focus on the part when you have recovered sufficiently from anorexia to walk in the community alone, meet a loving partner, get married and have kids. What is the wash up? Does recovery hold strong with the stress that comes with pregnancy, weight gain, miscarriage and three children under five?

I’m sure there are many mothers out there, like me, whose recovery is sufficient for them to go quietly about the business of school and kindergarten pick-ups, play-groups, chatting to neighbors, balancing work, study, family, relationships and generally keeping themselves fed.

Motherhood on the whole has had a positive effect on my eating disorder. I consider myself ‘normal’ (after a life-time of feeling ‘different’), given I now eat a variety of food and regular meals and I don’t have to exercise every single day. More importantly, I’m realistic about what I can achieve and no longer suffer from non-stop negative self-talk. Mostly I am grateful that I have been able to produce three healthy children with a body that I starved, tortured and hated. In fact, my children have proven the toughest self-image, self-renewal boot camp that three years of sitting opposite a psychologist armed with a note pad and pen could never have provided.

Not that it has all been smooth sailing. As with most recovery stories, I’ve had my share of setbacks. Anorexia is renowned for sneaking up from behind and grabbing you in a silent headlock no matter how smart you might consider yourself to be. It starts with a missed lunch, then a smaller dinner than usual, and the next thing you know you have hardly eaten all week. Times of stress, crisis or change are when I am at my most vulnerable.

When I had my first baby, I became distressed after four weeks when I hadn’t regained my size and hit the pavement desperate to lose the baby-weight I had gained. Even after several years of being ‘well’ the anorexia behaviors became my way of coping with fear and change.  I wanted to gain back ‘control’ over my body and had to somehow deal with the incredibly inadequate feelings and fears that accompanied the launch into motherhood. Another baby later, I found myself sitting before a doctor in a small coastal town, with a 15-month-old and a crying newborn, listening to a description of my anemia and being forced to explain (while fetching dummies from the floor, pulling a toddler away from a medical bin) that despite my ‘coping’ presentation, what I really needed was a referral to my psychologist as once again, I was struggling to eat.

I’ve found that recovery from anorexia has some similarities with motherhood. It can be tough at times; a constant evolving process of growth; redefining what is important, what makes for happiness and maintaining a balance between my needs and that of my busy family.

For you see, some of my closest ‘new’ friends know nothing of my past. Mostly they are other mothers and neighbors that I have met during the course of my children attending kindergarten and school.  While I tell myself that there hasn’t been much of an opportunity to confide, the truth is that I cherish being perceived as ‘normal’.  A  decade after recovery from anorexia, I still fear being instantly re-defined in the eyes of others who know about it. That I will be watched more closely at a party (I still struggle to eat in the smallest of crowds), greater meaning will be extracted from what I say, or comments will be made if my jeans are hanging loosely or I refuse a piece of cake.  My biggest fear is that all that I have achieved could be taken away; that the tormenting voice of anorexia will convince me again that I don’t deserve such happiness.

My children counter-balance this fear – they teach me to be more human, rather than a super impersonator of someone who is perfect and always keeping the balls up in the air. Kids are messy, get sick, don’t use their manners (at the times when you most want them to) and state their opinions out loud.

My four-year-old son summed it up perfectly when he came into my bed in the middle of the night, cuddled up and muffled in my ear that he had had a bad dream but now that he was snuggled close to me, all his thoughts were “happy thoughts”. “Me too, me too,” I said as I felt the warmth of his breath and felt his body soften as he drifted off to sleep.  Moments like this make for the happy ending I had prayed for and is what I cling to. Moments like this keep me well. Kids live in the moment and I’m striving to be like them.

A Girl Called Tim - my memoir.

… i got your book A Girl Called Tim out of the library last week and i literally read the whole thing in one day because i just couldnt put it down … it was the first book i have ever read that describes exactly how i feel its fantastic and im defiantly (sic.) going to order a copy of my own from the book shop ♥ i wish that every doctor would read your book then maybe they would start to properly understand and more people could get the help they need rather than go through this torment all day every day … Annabelle

The process of writing has many benefits, especially in communicating and making sense of the world, our world, our life. Mostly, we write for ourselves, in a journal or diary, on e-mails or in letters to friends. Going beyond that, to share experiences with a wider audience, involves a leap of faith. Many of you want to tell your story but don’t know where to start – I hope that this experience from writing my memoir, A Girl Called Tim will provide  food for thought:

* Why do I want to share my story?’ What is my main message?

By sharing my experiences in A Girl Called Tim I hoped to help ease the suffering of people living with an eating disorder. I had often felt isolated, misunderstood and alienated and wanted others to know that they were not alone, and could recover. I did not want them to suffer as long as me. I also wanted their families and friends to know what living with an eating disorder is like.  When a loved one develops an eating disorder the family and friends are affected too, and often feel very confused and afraid, and don’t know what to do or say. Also, I believed that writing a memoir would give purpose and meaning to my life. (Fifteen months after its release, I can attest that it has certainly done this – enriching my life in ways I could never have dreamed possible).

For years, the desire to publish was like a beacon, helping me to persevere in fighting my eating disorder. I was in my 30s when I knew I wanted to write a book, but was in my late 50s when I did so. I knew wanted to regain my true sense of self before writing my story and this challenge took decades of struggle to achieve. In many ways, the book is my literary Everest – not only in writing but also in celebrating the conquering of my illness.

A Girl Called Tim reader reviews such as the that received from Annabelle (above) today, have surpassed expectations, with many expressing gratitude for giving hope. I had dreamed of helping one person to make my life worthwhile. To know that my book has helped many people, like brave Annabelle, is wonderful.

* Memoir or autobiography?

Both are written about the author’s life by the author. I consider a memoir is about one part or chapter of life, in my case, a mental illness and its effect on my life. For instance, I could have written a memoir on life as a working mother, or as a newspaper editor, the love of the land or, horrors upon horrors, on how not to manage farm succession. A memoir contains a special message or theme, a lesson in life. A memoir is like a series of connecting stories, the events of which may read like fiction at times, and yet the facts and people are real. Personal diaries provide much of the content in A Girl Called Tim.

An autobiography is about the fullness of one’s life, to date, at least. It is like a record of life and its achievements.

* Writing about emotionally painful experiences essentially requires ‘re-living’ them, at least in the mind, to put them put on paper. This can be cathartic but also challenging. Are you prepared for the fallout?

To write my memoir I needed to read each page of my diaries, starting at age twelve when my anorexia was raging, and continuing through until age fifty-five, when I regained ‘me’.

The decades of my twenties, thirties and forties were particularly hard to re-live. I could see with great clarity the influence of my illness on my thoughts, feelings and behaviours. The illness dominated and manipulated the real ‘me’ during these decades and I felt sad for this young woman lost in the dark, dense forest of her mind, unable to find the way out. I had been suicidal, became divorced, and alienated from my parents and sister during those years. So yes, it was hard to be reminded of the pain and loss of this time. The strangest immediate effect was physical – I have a spinal injury, with limited neck movement, and for eight months I could not move my neck at all! This meant I could not drive my car. Living in a rural area with no public transport close by, this meant I lost my independence. I felt like a bird without wings. Fortunately  a dear friend was happy to drive me anywhere, but he copped a lot of my frustration and was rewarded with little thanks!

Independence is very important and to lose it in this way made me moody! However, I had plenty of support and was recovered sufficiently to remain resilient and maintain recovery.  I counted my blessings – and focused on being grateful for what I could do, rather than dwelling on what I could not do. I was especially grateful that I could walk. I considered that my ‘ED’ (eating disorder) was doing its best to sabotage and isolate me, and prevent my memoir from being published. I became determined not to let it succeed. The writing became easier as I worked my way through the decades of diaries and found the way out of the dark maze that was my illness. My neurosurgeon, who had ordered all sorts of scans,  had found nothing amiss physically. As soon as I had completed writing about the most painful parts of my journey, guess what? My neck movement returned, just like that!

What about other people in your life? 

None of us are an island. If we tell our story truthfully, others will be named. Have you thought about this?  I strove to be respectful to others at all times but had to balance this with the need to maintain the truth as witnessed by my own experience. Some people live in denial – like it is a form of self-protection. I like to think that while facing the truth can be painful, it is also an opportunity to heal and grow.

With A Girl Called Tim, I also was propelled along by the greater good. I was sharing my life, and needed to also touch on the lives of people close to me. I tried to protect them but at the same time needed to describe in some detail my perceptions of interactions with them. The emphasis here is ‘my perception’. This is ‘my experience’. We each have our own life experience.  Ten people may experience the same situation and each will remember and write about it differently. This is what makes the tapestry of life rich and colourful. I hope that people in ‘Tim’ appreciate the memoir’s capacity to help others and raise awareness of mental illness for the common good, and that this compensates for any embarrassment or hurt felt as an individual.

The right time to write is now.

Holding on to the thought ‘I will write a book about this’, can help sustain hope in the down moments of fighting a challenging illness or trauma. Some people want to start writing immediately. Thinking about this, and preparing for it by keeping a journal, can work wonders in accepting that this horrible experience that is happening will have a silver lining and that, beyond the hurt and pain, there will be a purpose. The suffering will pass and will not be in vain. The journey really is as important as the destination. So when do you start writing? Now!

My desire to write a memoir developed in my thirties and although I did not achieve this goal until my late fifties, the passion never waned. My diaries, kept daily since the age of twelve, were ample resources. Why did I wait so long? I wanted to reach the ‘Everest’ of my recovery. I wanted to feel that I was ‘whole’, that the ‘hole the ED had eaten with in my soul was mended’; that I had regained ‘me’, that I had escaped the ‘ED’ prison. This long-held desire, like a life raft tossing in a heavy sea, helped me over the line. I had to take care of myself first to be free to help others.

At age fifty-five, I climbed my ‘Everest’, and was ready to write about the young eleven-year-old girl. How could I bring her alive? How could I recall past feelings and perspective?

Diaries made the writing about childhood and adolescence easy in terms of chronology. Also, memories, especially those of my illness, seemed to be trapped a time capsule and remained crystal clear. Being recovered meant I could look at my life from ‘all sides’, inside and outside; I was able to feel sad for the young girl, the teenager, the young mother, imprisoned by her illness for more than four decades, objectively, without triggering illness thoughts.

A Girl Called Tim is not only about me – it is also about people who loved and cared for me, even if they did not always understand. They are integral to my story. 

The network of support by people who loved, cared for and believed in me was vital for survival, and recovery. My four children and their dad deserved gold medals for not giving up, for loving me when my behaviour was anything but loveable!  Like many mental illnesses, an eating disorder appears to thrive on isolating, dividing and conquering relationships, as well as life.  Fortunately I met health professionals who believed in me – a GP, psychiatrist and eating disorder therapist. A small circle of close friends remained supportive. Often they did not understand, but remained loyal; they remained ‘there’ for me. They were part of my journey too. So I have these people, these pieces of the jigsaw that contribute to the representation of my life.  Some pieces may need to be discarded because they don’t fit the picture. The challenge is to piece the many parts of the jigsaw together carefully and snugly, so the reader can identify with them, and relate to their own life in an enriching and inspirational way.

Some tips to get started on your memoir
Start today!  Carry a notebook at all times so that you can jot down ideas and memories as they occur. Decide what period of life you wish to cover and decide your main reason for writing.

• Decide your audience – this could be yourself, your family or the world.
• Often it helps to write for your self in the first instance, and close others, and then think about the next step.
• Do you plan to self-publish or will you seek a publisher? Aim high!
• Be prepared to allow your story to evolve. Talk to people who know you well, do your research; listen to feedback.
• If you seek a publisher, be prepared to write many drafts. Writing a memoir is like picking up a dusty stone  off a gravel road, and shining it to reveal the gem within.

I believe everyone has a story to tell. Everyone can write a memoir.  Everyone’s life is worthwhile and has purpose. The challenge sometimes is to find the courage to uncover and share this purpose. We can all learn from each other. This is what makes life worthwhile. This is about growth. When we share our thoughts and feelings, we give permission to others to share their thoughts and feelings in return. My lifetime passion for writing helped to save my life. I encourage everyone to write!

No Diet Day does not mean much to me personally because, for me, EVERY day is No Diet Day.  However, I support every effort to raise awareness of eating disorders – and the utter uselessness of dieting – so if we can encourage diet-lovers to ‘eat normally’ for one day in the year, I guess we can always hope that they will like it so much, they will discard their diets, scales and everything else that is making them unhappy.

It is sad to think that thousands of women and girls, and some men and boys, have a good day or a bad day, depending on the number they see on the bathroom scales each morning. I mean, it is a number. A number has no feelings. All it does is make us unhappy (I know, because I let scales rule my life for several decades).

These days I much prefer focusing on feeding my soul than trying to please a set of scales. Which is why I really like Eating Disorder Victoria’s latest fundraising campaign. I also like Lydia Jade’s post.Lydia Jade and BodyMatters Australasia recently launched ‘Endangered Bodies Australia’ – the Australian branch of a global non-profit grassroots movement that challenges visual culture and the multi-billion dollar diet industry.

We know that the media and dieting companies don’t cause eating disorders, but they can be very triggering when trying to recover from an eating disorder. We don’t need diet advertisements in our face in our homes – on TV and in magazines- and wherever we go in our communities (supermarkets, train station billboards). How much more supportive it would be, if all those advertisements instead would focus on feeding our soul.

ED says U said - a chance to help others Understand the Language of Eating Disorders.

The doctor told me today I have an eating disorder…

If your child, or friend, or partner, or parent, or colleague, says this to you, what will you say in response?

Or maybe you are the person with the eating disorder – if so, what did people say, how did they re-act, when they learnt of your illness? What would you like them to say?

Do they understand the seriousness of the illness, or do they think it is some throwaway fad thing you picked up in the supermarket?

Share your responses for inclusion in ED says U said, Understanding the Language of Eating Disorders. Send your gems to june@junealexander.com as soon as you can as we are near submission deadline. All contributions will be anonymous. This book is shaping up really well – it is full of gems from you all – carers and people with eating disorders. Together, we are making sure manipulative ED has nowhere to hide.

To get you started, add to this list of  responses WE DON’T WANT TO HEAR AGAIN to the revelation that you have an eating disorder:

-       No way!

-       Yeah I think I had that once.

-       Ha! I wish I had your problem! Have you seen how much weight I’ve put on lately?

-       No! You’re just fit and healthy.

-       Don’t be silly, you just need to eat properly.

-       Don’t worry, you’ll be better in no time.

-       You just need to find yourself a good man, then you won’t have time for all this.

-       No, that can’t be right, you don’t have any problems! You’re the one whose always fixing our problems.

-       No, you’re not thin enough to have anorexia.

-       Aren’t you too old to have an eating disorder?

-       Not you too! Does everyone have an eating disorder these days?

-       But you look so amazing!

-       Ooh, can I catch a bit of that from you?

-       I always knew there was something wrong with you ….

-       For god’s sake don’t tell anyone!

TELLING PEOPLE: RESPONSES WE DO WANT TO HEAR

Now list the response that you would like to hear when you share that you or your loved one has an eating disorder:
Here are a few to get you started … 

-       Wow that sounds really serious! How do you feel about that?

-       You know, I feel very relieved. I have been feeling concerned about you for some time. You have been really brave, going to the doctor and telling him how you feel. How can I help? I’ll be your friend through all this.

When I wanted and needed to talk about my past – my childhood and  adolescence – to try and make sense of the present:
* That’s water under the bridge – ‘What makes you think you are so special? It happens to others.’ (sexual abuse)
* We don’t talk about those things. They happened a long time ago. (why did my mother call me ‘Tim’ and ‘Toby’?)

MY LOSSES:
* Relationships with my mother, father (I had nothing left to grieve for when they died – I grieved while they were alive), sister, her four children and her eight or so grandchildren.
* Relationships with uncles, aunts, cousins.
* My marriage (well, there were three – all casualties on the way to finding my self).

I almost committed suicide and almost crossed the line into insanity (several times). Such a fine line.
By the grace of God, and the wonderful health professionals who I met in my 30s and 40s, together with my children and their dad, and a handful of friends who believed in me, I am here. I survived.
That’s all that matters now. I survived. What’s more, for the past six years, since age 55, I have been free. To be me. I live in, and embrace, the moment. As Jack Nicholson said ‘This is as good as it gets.”
People say I am ‘strong’, but I am also incredibly fragile.
I feel no resentment, bitterness or anger. There are days when I still feel very sad. I would have loved to have heard my parents say: ‘We love you, we accept you’. I have four beautiful children and five gorgeous grandchildren. As my children’s dad says: They are my family.
Everything that has happened has led to where I am today, and I feel very blessed. I have learnt I must put care of my self first, to keep my illness at bay.
I believe and have faith that I have found my mission in life; my lifelong love of writing has a special role – and that is to encourage others who feel lost like me, to know they are not alone, they are not mad or bad (they have an illness in their brain, that’s all), and that they too can be free.  God willing, I will write and beat my drum for people who have a mental illness until the day I die.
Laura’s Soap Box: 
How much control do we have over our actions?

People with addictions and mental illness used to strike me as people who just weren’t trying hard enough. Sure, they may have had special challenges – bad luck and trauma and difficult lives – but I was sure that despite any challenges that if one wanted it enough one could and SHOULD be able to get control and take care of him or herself.
Eventually I came to understand there were biological elements to these conditions. That knowledge didn’t really help, however: I still thought there was choice involved. I thought will power was involved, and although I admired those who kicked the habit or struggled out of depression or regained stability from bipolar illness here’s what’s telling: I still felt anger and disdain for those who did not. When I knew of someone who lost their job or children because of erratic behaviors I blamed them. I felt they had a choice; perhaps a harder choice than someone without that biology but still, that was only a part.
Strokes seemed different. I recognized that someone with brain damage was genuinely not able to control their thoughts and behaviors.Now I’m ashamed I used to think that way. I’ve come so far. The best part is that I truly do understand the thinking of those who still see people with mental health problems as operating independently. I get it that people don’t understand how impairing it is to have a mental illness and how wrong it is to regard these conditions as a matter of will power.There is a role for will power and choice but I think it is fair to assume that people are doing the best they CAN, and that they want to be happy and well as much as we want them to.I know some people think of a mental health diagnosis, and seeing that diagnosis as saying something is wrong with the brain, as stigmatizing and negative. This is a stage in our society’s evolving thinking, an understandable stage, but a tragic one. Until we understand that something is wrong with the brain we will continue to blame the patient and expect the patient to think their way out of their illness.

Four beautiful cherubs - my inspiration. But "ED" made life chaotic for us all.

Recovery from an eating disorder is hard enough when surrounded by a loving, understanding family backed by a collaborative treatment team. It is harder still when you are an adult – without family support,  trying to live a part life that involves responsibilities, such financial independence and caring for children. It is easy to put recovery on the back burner. I did so, for decades. A part life is exactly that – “ED” pulls the strings, dominates every hour of every day.  You try to function on whatever tiny bit of self you retain – I managed to hold on to my job as a newspaper journalist and this, together with journaling, was a lifeline. But “ED” ensured life was chaotic and traumatic,  sabotaging motherhood. If you are living a part life  I encourage you to persist in seeking a full life; make freedom from your eating disorder a number one priority. Don’t delay. The rewards will be great. In this blog and subsequent blogs, I share insights from my journals. I hope they help you understand your situation and inspire you to soar. The ramblings are drawn from my diaries when I was aged 35 to 40:
Christmas was spent at my parent’s property with my children. This was a thousand times better than being separated from them, as I had been in recent festive seasons. However, on Boxing Day (December 26), my sister and my mother arranged for my children to go out that night with others, without conferring with me. Fighting ED, which was telling me I was unworthy to care for my children, I tearfully confronted them: “Don’t I have any rights as a mother?” I ran from the kitchen and headed for the hills, thinking my family acted as though I didn’t exist, rejecting me even when I was present.

I hardly knew who I was – my tormentor, ED, had been wreaking havoc on my thoughts and behaviour since I was 11. I was fighting this thing inside me

A Girl Called Tim - my memoir.

unto its death; fighting to set myself free to enjoy life, to give, to grow; this, this was the transition of me. This is what I was doing; 28 years was enough.

ED convinced me not to see my psychologist any more. She had been trying to strengthen my weak positive voice, encouraging me to be myself. ‘She’s a waste of money,’ ED said. ‘You can manage yourself.’ So I worked out my own methods. I’d walk for at least an hour daily and count calories. Just to get through each day knowing I had not let myself down would be a reason for feeling at peace.

My strategy was quickly tested. My daughter arrived, announcing my parents were at her dad’s house, two kilometres away. They were “having a rushed trip” from the country. Oh, my head ached. Yet again they had called on my ‘ex’ and not me. What could I do to numb my pain? ‘Don’t binge,’ my positive voice pleaded. ‘Resolve to live your own life, and not feel guilty about it.’ I was in my kitchen when my daughter arrived, about to cut up a half-thawed chicken for a casserole. When she departed, salty tears of anguish fell on the naked bird as I pulled it apart, ripping its flesh into many pieces.
A day passed before I summoned courage to phone and tell my mother I felt unhappy and hurt because she did not visit me. “I seem to be a low priority with you,” I said. The following Sunday was Mother’s Day and rather than visit her, I stayed home to have a meal with my children. I thought: ‘I’m not ready to cope with this rejection stuff, which hits at my core and confuses me.’
At the same time, I read many books on faith and the meaning of life. I could see food was a failure as a control mechanism. If I stopped dieting, my bingeing would cease, but I’d have to confront my tormentor. For the first time the enormity of my struggle hit me. My family’s love and support was crucial but I didn’t have it. I didn’t know if the man in my life was strong enough to take my family’s place in meeting my inner needs – I’d need huge doses of emotional support to do what I had to do, to be normal.
My newspaper work helped me feel sane. Colleagues treated me with respect and, sometimes, I felt normal but my partner wanted me to resign from work, stay home and write. “You’re too scared to do so,” he said, but my psych said: “You will go from the frying pan into the fire if you stop work.” I had to believe my psych. On who else could I rely when I did not know my own mind? While office politics could be stressful, I didn’t need money worries on top of everything else.
Regression occurred when I felt rejected and worthless, particularly in relation to family matters. My son returned home from my ex’s house one evening and announced that my ex and his new woman had stayed a weekend at my parents’ home. I felt angry, and hurt. Perhaps they thought I had no feelings. Perhaps they didn’t care. The new woman had taken my place. I wanted to scream: “I’ve extra-sensitive feelings, and I feel REJECTED!” I saw my psychiatrist the next day. Unable to fathom my family’s behaviour, he agreed it was hurtful. I was losing myself entirely. The psychiatrist prescribed medication, which he said would help suppress the urge to stuff myself, and to see him in three weeks.
As for my four children, I was happiest when they were with me (two lived with their father). They were all teenagers by now. We had established a Sunday evening meal tradition at my house. For two hours my children visited, often with a friend or cousin or two, and chatted, joked and laughed around my dinner table. Two hours a week with all four children – this was bliss.
I hoped to return to the country to live but for now, I needed to work on the newspaper to build up my assets. In the evenings, I relaxed by working on tapestry wall hangings or cushions, or by tapping on my home computer. Writing was my lifeline in trying to make sense of my struggle. One evening, distraught, I was typing a story about what was like having a chronic mental illness and missing my daughter. After four attempts to phone my ex, I connected with him and courageously mentioned I’d like our daughter to live with me. He said she had raised this possibility and his answer was an emphatic “no”. I asked if he was thinking of our daughter’s needs or my needs. “I’m thinking of my needs,” he said, and put the phone down. At 14, our daughter was old enough to live where she chose, with her mother or father, but her father’s influence could easily persuade her to stay with him. When I mustered the courage to ask her, she said: “I prefer to stay with Dad.” Our conversation degenerated until she said: “Why do you care now, Mum? You didn’t care once.”
Too young to understand my illness, all my daughter knew was that I’d left her dad and her when she was nine years’ old. I’d worked since she was two, because doctors said I should, to hang on to my sanity. I had not sought her custody, as I was still in recovery and my greatest fear was that my daughter might develop anorexia nervosa like me. I thought she would have more chance of avoiding the illness if living with her stable and secure dad. My heart sang when she was with me, and cried when she was not.

To be continued.

ED says U said - a chance to help others Understand the Language of Eating Disorders.

ED says U said – Understanding the Language of Eating Disorders is filling up fast with hundreds of dialogues contributed by carers and people with eating disorder experience from around the world. Thank you! Of course, I want more!

One conversation that has popped up time and time again runs like this: “Why is this (recovery) taking so long?”

Comments to the person with the eating disorder include: 

- Father: aren’t you trying?

- Friend: have you checked your doctor’s qualifications?

- Sister: I’m sure that doctor is just trying to get more money out of you.

Comments directed at carers include:

- Employer: why aren’t you back at work? You can’t just keep taking time off.

- Friend: just tell her to pull her socks up and stop wasting her life.

- Work colleague: your daughter needs a good kick in the pants.

During the 44 years as an eating disorder captive, I heard all the above and more. Thousands more! I tried to recover, and tried again. More than a thousand times over. I reached the stage where I understood that my strategy seemed doomed to fail. But never mind. Before I knew it I would be trying the same method, again and again. THIS time will be different, I would say, and off I would go – again. I kept failing because the foundation for recovery was wrong. I tried to recover, take control, be normal, whatever you want to call it, by a) eating three meals a day or b) counting xxxx of calories a day. I wrote plan after plan after plan for recovery. Tens of thousands of plans! Enough plans to fill several large trucks. All plans failed within hours or at the most several days. I was like a car trying to run without an engine. Going nowhere. I needed a toolbox, and I needed tools. I needed a rebuild in my brain.
“ED” had been ruling my brain since age 11. All decision-making stemmed from the skills that ED had taught me. (“If I eat this many calories, I can cope with this person/event/emotion.”) I appreciate how difficult it is to break free from the power of ‘ED’.

At age 37, in 1988, September 23, I wrote:

Window in my life: Concentrate on positives. I will NOT starve/binge for the rest of my life. I will exercise for … minutes daily, eat … calories daily.

September 28, 1988:

My window SHATTERED. I let my thoughts turn themselves upon me. I ate and ate and ate. And felt totally dislodged. Insecure, anxious, nervous and unreal. BUT …
A NEW window has opened for me TODAY. This window is so carefully and thoughtfully secured that I KNOW it will stay open for the rest of my life. The special ingredient is ‘POSITIVE’. I am concentrating, focusing my thought powers ONLY on positive matters. If there is something negative then I will quickly decide if I’ve any control over it or not … if I I don’t, I’ll dismiss it from my thoughts by substituting one of my favourite positives (a cuddle, a bubble bath, a walk, a Bible reding, a phone call, a bunch of flowers)…

October 5, 1988:
Today is the first day of the rest of my life.  Went to a doctor yesterday as my skin was raging with blotches. Nerves, tension, the doctor said. I know this is because I’ve been shirking the truth. I should have been stronger before now. Too bad. I’ll have to be strong now. STRONGER. …. 

On and on it goes … I eventually GOT THERE, crossed the line, regained me, in 2006. It was a LONG journey! One of the world’s longest marathons, maybe. Letting go of ED was incredibly hard and incredibly scary. I understand what it is like for people suffering today. I had to construct something to take ED’s place. Fill the gap. With something safe, secure and stable. My soul. Worth the struggle! Life without ED is beautiful. Changing and rebuilding thought patterns and behaviours does require help. Today, recovery tools are far more accessible and effective than when I was in my 20s and 30s. The good news is that I know you can do it: you can break free. Because I did.

Best way to respond

I invite you to share comments made to you as a carer or as a person with an eating disorder, about the length of recovery … and be sure to include your response! When someone asks ‘aren’t you/isn’t she better yet?’, what is the best way to respond?

Your answers will help others understand “ED”. Keep your contributions to no more than 200 words and  email to june@junealexander.com as soon as you can:-)

It is therefore with much pleasure that I share with you, Feed The Soul. This project carries a strong message of hope and at the same time offers a simple and easy way to raise money for eating disorder support, prevention and education, in my home state of Victoria, Australia. Organised by Eating Disorders Victoria, Feed The Soul is being held hand in hand with International No Diet Day, on Sunday, May 6th. (An eating disorder support organisation will have an event somewhere near you). For Victorians, anytime during the month of May, you are encouraged to  get together with your family, friends, school friends or work colleagues and enjoy a healthy, social and relaxing meal while raising funds for Eating Disorders Victoria and saying a big “NO” to fad and useless diets once and for all. Your lunch/dinner can be as big or small as you like, and anywhere you like – at home, your workplace, at a local café or even at the local park.

Ask others to join in and together make a donation to Eating Disorders Victoria and while at the same time socialising and having a great shared meal with your friends. Your tax deductable donation ($2 and over) will fund Eating Disorders Victoria’s vital community work in supporting the five per cent of the Australian community who will develop an eating disorder in their lifetime.

DIETS DON’T WORK – so don’t waste your time and save yourself the angst and disappointment.

Did you know – Dieting is the number one risk factor in the development of an eating disorder.

Recent research shows that people who diet severely are 18 times more likely to develop an eating disorder. People who diet moderately are five times more likely to develop an eating disorder.

The strict, restrictive and often unsustainable nature of many diets can lead to over-compensatory behaviours, fluctuating weight and many related psychological effects such as feelings of guilt over ‘lack of self control’, low self esteem and obsessive thoughts and behaviours surrounding food. In addition, people who diet frequently are more likely to experience depression.

Many dieting behaviours can be damaging to physical and psychological health. Fluctuating weight is common for most people who diet frequently, as most people re-gain all the weight they have lost after a diet. Weight loss or weight gain may lead to long-term physical side effects.

The Eating Disorders Foundation of Victoria is the primary source of support, information, community education and advocacy for people with eating disorders and their families in Victoria. The organisations connect those whose lives are affected by eating disorders with the people, services and hope they need for recovery.

My favourite online sites for inspiring information and support include: NEDA, Beat, FEAST, Maudsley Parents, Ed-Bites, Eating Disorders Research – King’s College, MentorConnect, Dr Sarah Ravin and Jenni Schaefer. In Australia: EDV, Butterfly. I recommend them all. There are many more wonderful sites, often maintained by parents or people who have recovered or who are recovering from their illness and I welcome guest bloggers on my site. We are a team.

But how helpful is online communication when you are in the full grip of an eating disorder, and how easy is it to move along with your recovery, given the rigidity aspects of the illness? Thank you to this reader for sharing her experience and offering food for thought. As she says, ‘you can’t help others until you help yourself’ but sometimes, others can help you until you can help yourself:
‘I think an important issue effecting eating disorder sufferers and carers is the impact of online “support” on a person’s recovery. It has not received as much attention in the media as it should. “Support” is ambiguous, because the support given and received is not always constructive. It can be as simple as “I’m sorry”, “I can relate”. I’ve been an active member of eating disorder recovery support forums over the years, and I’ve found they can harm as much as they can help. If caution is not exercised, they can also keep us stuck and prevent us from truly “moving on” with our lives. We might feel guilty for abandoning the associations we’ve made as we move further into our own “recovery”. There’s a danger in giving these online friendships more precedence than your “real life” ones. It definitely “tips the scales” when it comes to establishing and maintaining a much-needed sense of balance between life and recovery, no pun intended. When everything revolves around eating disorders, and you have no other shared interests, you run out of things to talk about. So you keep talking about eating disorders, and you continue to focus on them. Even if you don’t have a problem, subconsciously you find problems for the sake of maintaining these friendships, which can be unhealthy. I have seen even “recovered” people stuck in these communities, year after year, and they don’t seem to be moving on with their lives.
‘We become like the people we associate with, and the camaraderie that accompanies these friendships can be difficult to relinquish. Like other addictions, where people get high together, or even if they are recovering together – that “world” still takes up too much headspace, and at some point in time we need to move on and find other interests and activities to occupy ourselves with. There are definitely cases in which people have found these friendships enduring and rewarding, but I’ve become skeptical of how much they legitimately contribute to my quality of life, speaking from my own experiences. In some cases, it can subtract from it, and cause anxiety because you are “always worried” about how the others are going, and you can’t draw a line between your needs and theirs. I lost myself in that world, and only recently I’ve started picking up the pieces again and re-creating myself as a whole person with a new identity and worth that extends beyond being “of service” to those in need. We can’t help others until we can help ourselves, and even then, we need boundaries. I’m partly to blame, because I made an Agony Aunt out of myself and I was always there for people who needed my help, and eventually I fell apart and couldn’t cope. I relapsed a couple of years ago because I had no energy and support left over for myself, and this online world had become my life.
‘Subconsciously, it was a way of rendering myself incapable of giving out anymore advice, time and energy. If I was ill, how could others possibly depend on me? These online associations and communities add another layer of complexity to the illness, and pose unseen challenges for carers who are trying to understand their loved ones. How can they possibly understand, for better or worse, how these online friendships impact our behaviour and progress on a day-to-day basis? It’s a double-edged sword. We are drawn to online support because we have a safe place to communicate with others, are accepted and not judged. But the dynamics that influence online friendships between eating disorder sufferers are complex. Feelings of resentment and competition amongst members as to who can be the “sickest” and lose the most weight are common. Even in recovery, relationships can be charged because the recovered person might be less tolerant of those who are still struggling. Either way, relationships amongst the eating-disordered are emotionally charged in some shape or form, and caution should be exercised in setting healthy boundaries with these people just as much as we do with the people in our day-to-day lives.’
What are your views on online support? 

Writing from experience: Sophie Skover is author of The Continuous Appetite.

Have you ever found yourself eating and eating and eating and, even though you know that you won’t be happy with

The Continuous Appetite helps you understand why you crave food and how to overcome bingeing.

Sophie shares her inspiring story and insights in this interview:

Describe briefly what BN is – its signs and symptoms. Who is vulnerable?

Bulimia Nervosa is an eating disorder where a person chooses to binge eat and consume immense amounts of food in a short time filled with panic.  He or she then chooses to purge or forcefully throw up to free his or herself of the food consumed, the guilt accompanied with the action and most importantly to attempt to get rid the inner subconscious self-hatred.

How and when did you develop BN? When did you realize you had an illness? 

I now say I am 100 per cent healed from bulimia because I believe that when you really deal with the inner gunk (the virus) that is causing the inner imbalance, you begin to release and diminish the symptoms of binging and purging.  With that being said, I developed bulimic habits in College when I was trying to balance academics, athletics, a social life, and the demands of being perfect.  I realized I had an imbalance when I really began to see that I could not get through basic life situations.  In an ordinary situation I’d feel a panic, and go from 0-100 in one second flat and all I could think about was food.  Then, I would binge.  Then I’d be overcome with guilt, shame and hate, so I threw up.  Once, ordinary life became so daunting to live, I realized I had a problem.

Describe the thoughts of a person with bulimia? What are the worst aspects?

Here are some insights:

1. I can’t eat one slice of that cake because, if I do, I’ll eat all of the slices. 
2. I won’t eat all day and then by dinner, I always end up binging and then I have to throw it up.
3. Why do I have to struggle with food? I wish I could eat anything I wanted like the other skinny girls. 
4. It’s ok, just eat it—I give you permission to be bad.
5. I don’t care anymore; I’m eating it all and then I can secretly get it out of me.  
6. Well, I’ve blown my diet. I might as well eat everything I want now.
7. I’m fat; no one likes me.
8.  I ate too much; now I need to throw up.
9.  I wish I were addicted to drugs rather than food, because then I could just quit my addiction once and for all.
10.  Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night and eat.
11.  My cravings are so strong that I panic and end up binging and purging.
12.  When I’m by myself, I get fast food and pig out in my car, get rid of the evidence and don’t tell anyone.

 Strategies for recovery from bulimia:

1. Believe that YOU CAN HEAL.
2. Look at the disorder as an inner imbalance and an opportunity to find deeper answers within.
3. Recognizing your Body, Emotions, Mind and Spirit may be out of balance.
4. Learn to recognize your emotions and practise a technique for processing them.
5. Understanding how to control your mind so that it works for you rather than against you.
6. Connecting every day to whatever it is you believe in spiritually.
7. Getting plenty of sleep as you’re working towards your healing journey.
8. Drinking enough water for your body.
9. Journal.  Journal.  Journal.
10. Thinking about what you want over what you DO NOT want!
11. Reading The Continuous Appetite to find new techniques to help overcome this disorder.

BN is often described as the ‘invisible’ eating disorder.  Describe.
When using a pencil, we know its greatest feature; the eraser.  No marking is permanent and all mistakes can be erased. People use pencils because they know they can wipe away their errors. A binger chooses food to quiet the emotions, but then is overwhelmed by guilt, shame, self-hatred or the fear of gaining weight, so they purge to erase the consequences. This is usually a secret relationship that one tends to depend on, they believe it is their only way to get balance in their life.  But this is just yet another lie that bulimia tells them.

Why is it important to seek help?
You can heal.  I always believed deep down that I would one day be free from this dis-order.  I hyphenate that word, because to me it shows me that the inner parts of me were simply out of balance and not in order.  This imbalance however, was causing me to be in great bulimic pain.  Once I learned how to get my body, emotions, mind and spirit functioning optimally, my dis-order continued to lose power.  It is so important to reach out to people who can help you see what may be right in front of you, but sometimes you may be too close to the forest to recognize the trees.  A professional can help you change your perspective, which can have the result of healing your inner imbalances.

Why are recovery stories important?
If you have healed, I feel it is imperative to share your story because it can be the light in someone else’s darkness.  I read many books along my journey that said: “Believe me, if I can do it, so can you.”  That was very inspiring to me, so I encourage you to believe you can heal, find the answers that your inner world is trying to communicate to you, actually practise the new techniques you learn, and then promise to share your story!

* Sophie is an author, holistic life coach, and inspirational speaker, who help others experience harmony in their lives. She became passionate about this “life changing” path after  healing from bulimia.  In 2006, Sophie established LSS Harmony Life Coaching, to help people who are struggling with life to find freedom.  She also developed a program, The Continuous Appetite ™, and wrote a book with the same name to help people discover the meaning underneath their cravings and learn techniques that help to overcome emotional overeating.