Photo: Jovo_JVNVC

When people ask me about eating disorders I get all the expected questions. What caused it? How could you not eat? Didn't you feel hungry? And more disturbing responses like, so what did you eat? As if it might be a good idea to trial it for a while before the bikini season or a school reunion.

The truth is, for me anyway, there was no single cause, no moment where it all began, just a sort of gradual build-up to something that by the time it was noticed by myself or others, felt like it had been there forever.

It always felt like people wanted to blame someone or something, when I feel like the most important thing people need to know about eating disorders is that it is not a choice, it is not a "lifestyle".

A person with an eating disorder may act as though they don't want to get better but that is a hallmark of the illness, not of an individual's desire to be attractive, get attention or waste the time of health professionals.


Anorexia, in my opinion, is ambivalence personified. How many other illnesses are there where the treatment involves doing the one thing you fear most if you are affected by said illness - gain weight.

It is incredibly hard to explain how the eating disordered mind works. I only have my own example, but for me, I felt the most frustrating mixture of fear, self-loathing, guilt and shame, and an increasing sense of hopelessness about my situation.

I was 19 years old when I started to let go of my illness properly. I had been admitted for inpatient treatment for the second time in three years, having been diagnosed four years prior.

The difference this time, was that I wanted to get better more that I was afraid of it. I could see that my life was not working out for me. I had lost touch with friends who were at university or out having fun, while my life revolved around hospital appointments and a part-time job (in a bakery of all places - the irony!) that I barely had energy for.

My body was showing signs too. My legs covered in sores that wouldn't heal, my heart beating irregularly and my bones thinned like an elderly woman.

I had also lost out on my place in that semester's nursing intake, for which I had enrolled and been accepted. This part gutted me as I had finally found something that I wanted to do and my illness was getting in the way.

I managed to reserve my place for the following February and set myself the seemingly impossible goal of restoring my health in time to start the next year - knowing I would have to gain 18 kilograms to have achieved my goal.

In spite of my incentive, my second stint in hospital was still tricky. I had been naive enough to think that just because I finally really wanted to recover that it would be easy. However, it was still a very non-linear process, where it seemed like one step forward two steps back.

I did however manage to restore my weight. Not to the elusive goal weight, but to a point where the hospital allowed me to begin my studies. For the first term I went off to polytechnic with a packed lunch from the hospital, complete with patient sticky labels.

From there, things started to fall into place. I was not cured overnight, but I managed to complete my studies and embark on a real life.

I will always have the tendency towards disordered eating, particularly when I am stressed, and in some ways I may never fully recover. But I know that I would not be in the position I am in now if I had not put my all into recovery, and had the support of my family along the way.

I have been nursing for six years now, I am in a stable relationship, and I can't remember the last time I weighed myself. I never could have believed that this would be possible when I was that 19-year-old inpatient, but it is possible as long you keep trying.

For help and support call the national support line: 1800 33 4673