On this day, August 4th, exactly one year ago, I received my diagnosis of anorexia nervosa, restrictive type. Eight years of body-checking, excessive exercising and starvation, all boiled down to one moment of medical confirmation…and I saw mine and my family’s world fall down around us. What seemed like an endless dark tunnel, suffocating with reams of questionnaires and assessments and blood tests and therapy sessions and dietetic appointments and weigh-ins, lay ahead. Most of the time, I was pessimistic. Most of the time, I believed I would not succeed. Most of the time, I made decisions to pack it all in, to succumb to my eating disorder and let the vile creature who lives inside my head to kill me.
This was me then:
A hell of a lot can change in a year.
This is me now (excuse the goofy pose…it was supposed to represent ‘celebration’):
Here are some differences which may be detected by a trained and observant human eye. Firstly, I have learned to let go of the regimental buzzcut, a hairstyle I claimed was a product of my rebellion but which was, if I am being completely honest with myself, yet another one of my OCD attempts at control, my ability to have a completely even cut all over my head a symbol of my success at perfection. I have added quite a significant amount of ink to my body since this exact moment, namely a completely breathtaking stomach piece which encapsulates both the struggle and the beauty of anorexia recovery. Above all, I have just recently entered my healthy BMI range.
There is much more going on inside this butterfly body of mine. This summer, I have successfully left the house numerous times without a coat as I no longer feel I am going to die of hypothermia anytime my frail and decaying skin is attacked by the slightest of breeze. I have the pleasure of complaining about my rosy cheeks ruining my Gothic aesthetic once again. The whites of my eyes are actually white again and my teeth are also white and my nails are getting stronger. (Warning: TMI ahead.) Despite currently being 19 days late, I am happy to say that I have had five very painful and very normal periods.
What a lot of people fail to realise is that reaching a healthy BMI does not equate to being anorexia-free. We can’t have everything and many aspects of my health have not improved, nor are they likely to ever be the same again. I am still covered in downy hair which I am extremely self-conscious about. My osteoporosis makes it difficult for me to be quite as bonkers and carefree as I used to be. I am chronically fatigued. I am awaiting an appointment to get tested for arthritis, meaning I could possibly be officially a 90-year-old woman at the tender age of 19. It remains to be seen if I will be able to have children without complications. I’m not happy. Yet.
But this is not a day for focusing on the negatives. I would prefer to see this day as a celebration of what I have achieved. A year is not a long time, yet I feel I have come so far in my journey. This book is nowhere near its conclusion but I am proud of the little victories in this chapter. So I guess that all that’s left for me to do is address all of you warriors out there who are currently suffering and tell you that it is time to do yourself and your body the justice it deserves. Recovery is a long and winding and difficult road but you never know what beautiful future lies beyond.
-Niamhy xx
High Priestess Resurrected 