I apologise in advance if I trigger or offend anyone. Unfortunately, eating disorders aren’t rational, they have no basis in reality and so my opinions on this should not be taken as moral fact. The very fact that I have this disorder suggests that something has gone very wrong with my mind and body.

I have atypical anorexia nervosa, which basically means I meet all of the diagnostic criteria except one: I am not underweight. Which honestly feels like a slap in the face. To push myself to the point where I need medical intervention and yet to still not be enough. And I know that I will be told off for feeling this way but I can’t control how I feel. Remember, eating disorders aren’t quirks or simply a matter of low self-esteem. It is an obsessive desire to control weight / body shape that’s gotten so far out of control that it has become a sickness. It is a serious mental illness that requires medical intervention and lots of emotional support to recover from. I am fully capable of seeing the damage it’s causing but my mind has been so shattered, it honestly doesn’t matter. Unfortunately, self-awareness is only half the battle.

I’ve lost a substantial amount of weight, it just doesn’t feel like enough. You see, when I was 16 I used to weight 45kg. And during this time I had frequent dizzy spells, would get so hungry I’d feel nauseous and was dragged into the doctors office by my mother on numerous occasions. But every single time, rather than being helped, I was simply praised for having a small appetite and was pushed back out of the office and told I was a healthy weight. At one point, my mother resorted to feeding me cake because I simply would not eat.

So I know how small I can be. And I feel like such a failure knowing I can’t get my body back to that state, no matter how hard I try.

And I know that logically I shouldn’t feel this way. I was not well back then, I could almost be classified as frail. My self esteem was so low I wouldn’t believe I was beautiful if every single person in the universe told me so. I didn’t even look nice (my nose was way too big for my face).

In fact, I got hit on a lot more after I gained a little weight. Now that was a sweet period. I gained about 10kg and suddenly had boobs. Who would’ve thought?

My self-esteem was finally high again. I felt physically well. I started exercising regularly (of my own free will instead of simply following along in PE). I had a boyfriend I adored but obviously, all good things must come to an end.

I fell victim to eating my emotions. So while I’d still have periods of starving myself, you couldn’t really tell because I would also go through periods of binging.

It wasn’t until I was informed by my doctor (a different one to the one who had minimised my disorder as a child) that I had insulin resistance that my sense of self shattered. Unfortunately for my doctor, she didn’t realise that I was someone who followed instructions a little too well.

I began cutting out most of my favourite foods, I started working out constantly until at one point, I was at the gym 15 hours a week. I managed to reverse the insulin resistance completely in record time. But rather than praise my efforts, my doctor recognised how damaging my intense attitude was and tried to ground me again. And if she had been the only voice in my head, it might’ve worked.

But I had so much praise from the people around me, I just couldn’t stop.

But even then I hadn’t hit the critical point. You see, after reversing my insulin resistance and receiving reassurance from my doctor, I had slowly started to reintroduce the no foods back into my life. In small doses of course.

But then, I got covid for a second time. And that put me in the hospital (an experience I would honestly categorise as traumatic). And suddenly I was sick. I would go through periods where my lungs just stopped working and I could not breathe. I became dependent on my inhaler. I couldn’t run without feeling nauseous. I had brain fog. My body wasn’t functioning.

And while this was happening, I lost my sense of taste and smell. Suddenly everything tasted expired or rotten and I couldn’t keep food down. I threw up every single day, sometimes multiple times a day for an entire month. And it showed on my body.

But when my sense of taste and smell finally came back, and I could actually keep food down again, instead of being acknowledged for how sick I was, I was suddenly getting praised by everyone for my dramatic weight loss.

Suddenly, everyone wanted to know my secret and it became the focal point of my life.

What could I have done but assume that being sick was the way? With all of the positive validation, I couldn’t help but starve myself to keep it going. And this time, there were no binging episodes.

At one point, I lost my hunger cues. I wouldn’t even know I needed food until I would get up and be hit by a dizzy spell. Earlier on, my hands would’ve trembled if I went too long without eating but that went away. The intensity of my emotions reduced. My whole life, my body had run hot. I just couldn’t handle heat. And yet during this period, I was always cold. I was constantly shivering. I lost my focus. I was weaker, I couldn’t lift weights as easily anymore. I started missing steps during salsa. I started to hate everyone and everything.

And so finally, my doctor forced me back to reality. She created an eating disorder plan for me and sent me out with referrals to a psychologist and a dietitian. Because apparently, it’s not a great thing to lose weight rapidly. Apparently, you can still die of malnutrition even if you aren’t underweight.

But honestly, death doesn’t bother me that much. I’m not a religious person. If I died today, I would simply poof out of existence. I wouldn’t have to deal with the aftermath. No, what truly scared me was the threat of needing an IV again. What kicked my arse into gear was knowing that I couldn’t improve in dance, or get stronger at the gym and that even my mind would suffer in this state. The only thing worse than being ugly was being stupid or weak.

So I follow their plan. I record my meals like a good little girl and I try to eat every 3-4 hours. But that doesn’t mean that I’m not sent into a panic every time the weight on the scale goes up.

And my self-esteem has never been lower. I don’t think I even know what I look like. What I see in the mirror is entirely dependent on my mood. Sometimes I feel like the moment I step out into the world, I feel worse.

And the process of eating more again sucks. My body is overheated all the time. I am hungry all the time. My digestive system is not coping. And I feel all my emotions at 200%. I am so so sensitive to rejection now. It doesn’t even have to be a real rejection. Even the threat or idea of rejection is enough to send me spiralling. And every time I am rejected, I am convinced that if I was just a little skinnier, just a little more conventionally attractive, I would’ve been enough.

And it almost feels like my body is punishing me for eating enough. As bad as starving yourself feels, recovering from that feels just as bad. I don’t think I’ll ever fully get over it.

Eating disorders are not rational. It doesn’t matter that I know how damaging starving myself is. It doesn’t matter how awful I feel. The only thing that matters is that I never feel enough.

Honestly, I’m a kilogram away from my ideal body weight and I do not feel it. And it hurts to know that none of it was worth it. Sometimes you have to let go of the ideal and accept yourself as you are. You should eat healthy and exercise but if you can’t reach your goals, sometimes it means you’re not meant to.

Because I feel like I’m stuck in a nightmare that’s never ending. My mind and my body has been wrecked. And I can’t seem to escape the eating disorder.

Just the other day, I experienced someone grabbing my plate to stop me eating fries. Despite explaining it numerous times, people don’t seem to realise that making comments about my body or trying to restrict my food is dangerous for me. It was one thing for me to rapidly lose weight when I was heavier. If I lost the same amount of weight again as I am now, I would probably die.

And honestly, I could be 45kg again and I wouldn’t feel any better. This has never been about weight or how my body looks physically. This has always been a matter of low self esteem and my desire to control everything.

Believe me when I say that there is no satisfaction in losing weight. If your self-esteem and sense of self is tied to your weight, you will never be happy. Stop looking to celebrities and influencers for true happiness. Half of those people are on drugs. They are not happy!

Pushing your body to its limit, sacrificing your health and happiness for the chance to be skinny will bring you no joy. They’re wrong when they say that nothing tastes as good as skinny feels. If you let yourself be brainwashed into thinking that losing weight will magically solve your life, by the time you push your body into your ideal, you probably won’t feel much of anything at all.

That’s the harsh truth about pushing a calorie deficit too hard. Without adequate food, your body will slowly begin to shut down. And your mind will be the first to suffer. Don’t do it!

Or do and you can learn your lesson the hard way. I just hope you survive the fall.