My Secret Life (18 page)

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Maintaining a sense of familiarity in the things we do provides us with the security that we convince ourselves of, even if it’s just a mere fabrication. In some of the most horrific circumstances, a person can often choose to endure rather than accept change purely because it’s what they know best. I would go on to enjoy my years in secondary school immensely and always remember them fondly. Indeed, I still maintain that they were the best years of my life to date. But I resisted that transition just as I resisted the transition into recovery in the first weeks of therapy. In both cases, it would not take long before I finally submitted to the changes at hand, embraced them and then remembered each as the best thing I could have ever done at the time.

Two months into cognitive behavioural therapy with Michelle and I had taken the sessions into the bosom of my world, in much the same way as I had done with secondary school. In truth, she and I discussed my eating and purging habits very little. Naturally, it would crop up from meeting to meeting. When it did, I informed her, most honestly, how many times I had purged that week and how long a given fast had been. I think my honesty in that safe space surprised us both. I was shocked at how much I genuinely wanted to talk about this stuff. For all my secrecy surrounding such matters, once the floodgates had been opened, I poured it all out recklessly and unrestrictedly. It was terrifying and liberating at the same time.

The purpose of expressing the unvarnished truth about these habits was to enable Michelle and I to discover the ‘triggers’ that caused them. A trigger was something that compromised the control I had built my life around. In order to regain control, I would fast and purge, desperately attempting to empower myself as I saw fit. My triggers could be almost anything in the world and ranged extraordinarily both in scope and degree of importance.

The best example I can give in this case was an incident in which I disclosed some personal information to an acquaintance. The information was trivial and of no importance. Nevertheless, when I observed that same person sharing all my secrets with a third party, I felt so wounded, that I reacted most destructively. It was as if in doing this, the person in whom I had placed trust, denied me of my right to privacy. The information, regardless of its significance, was mine to disclose or keep secret. In breaking my confidence, the decision had been taken away from me and thus, the control had been lost. This one, very minor incident resulted in a three day fast that was later followed by an almighty binge and two days of on-off purging.

In this way, the purpose of therapy was to encourage a sense of enlightenment and understanding about the things I did and why I did them. Understanding my actions was my most powerful weapon against them. In order to do this, however, I was required to analyse myself in such a way that would leave no rock unturned and no crevice unchartered. My past and who I was within it proved to be an integral part of this process. The more Michelle dug away at my thoughts and memories, the more I too was encouraged to pick up that psychological shovel and upturn the very foundations of my own mental architecture. I found myself reading old diaries that stretched back up to ten years in some cases. Michelle, of course, encouraged this; mostly because recovery requires the active participation of both the given psychologist and patient alike. It’s not the same as merely taking a pill and hoping for the best; you have to want it and more importantly, work for it.

Reading my own words was the easiest way for me to fully comprehend what had caused the mentality I then worked under. In relation to my recovery, the most interesting of all these diary entries were the ones from most recent years. I didn’t need to interpret very much to know that from the age of about 17, a most distinct mentality had evolved. The shift was all too obvious, even to me and on those scribbled pages, I saw things that bothered me more than I ever remembered feeling.

Among other things, there had been clear signs of total confusion. Restarting a diet or a fast was an ongoing plot line, while undermining myself and focusing on my personal failures in doing these things were reoccurring themes throughout entries. I could also see how the minor daily occurrences in my life seemed to take on gargantuan weight over both my habits and thoughts. Everything I felt, thought and did was in reaction to these small transactions. My behaviours were reflections of everything that happened from day to day.

20th July 2009

How I feel about myself: 2/10

How I feel about my life: 3/10

I ate!! I was going to not eat and allow my body to slip back into ketosis. Only that way can I lose all this weight! The plan was to get down to around nine and a half stone by Friday, when I’ll see my ex-boyfriend and all my friends. I’m currently about ten stone and definitely won’t make that in three days! I’m so angry with myself. It was all going to be fine. Ami wanted to have tea together in her house before everyone got together for the evening. So I decided that I would have to eat otherwise they would notice. Once this was established, I fucked it all and allowed myself to binge beforehand ... We didn’t even fucking eat!!! It was pointless. I had a good plan and was in a good place to actually do it properly and I fucked it down the drain for no reason, as usual. I’m so upset with myself. We’re going drinking tomorrow night and now I don’t know whether or not to have a drink. I wasn’t going to because tomorrow was going to be day four of my fast. But now I don’t know. I could avoid drinking and start over – see how far I get. Or if I do drink, I’ll have to eat so as not to end up in pieces and in choosing this route, that means I may as well eat and drink until I see everyone on Friday. I’m so angry. Fat, stupid bitch!! I hate myself sometimes. I hate the way I look. I hate how stupid I am. I hate how lazy I am – lazy, selfish, ugly, liar – I hate it all and it’s all me. It’s my own fault I’m in this position. I just want to lose weight. I just want to go back to being nine stone again. Why the FUCK did I have to let it all pile back on? What is wrong with me? I hate myself. And sometimes, yes, in fact I would rather die than deal with this. Sometimes I really do just want to die.

Yours, Leanne

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The issues surrounding my relationship with the opposite sex has always been a complicated one. Someone once said to me that they couldn’t bring themselves to believe I really had that much trouble when it came to men and relationships.

‘You’re quite a pretty girl.’ they had told me. ‘There’s no way a girl like yourself could have that much trouble.’

But in my early teen years, I experienced such a degree of rejection from men that the feeling solidified in my mind, thus hindering my ability to believe anything more of myself than being the lowest germ of the earth’s surface. It never mattered how I ‘blossomed’, as I was very often informed of, because my mind interpreted what I was through this early rejection. Michelle once referred to it light-heartedly as an ‘ugly duckling syndrome’, whereby no matter how much I improved on the surface, I could never overcome that internal feeling that I was unattractive and more than this, utterly redundant. I felt unwanted and it was never more obvious than in my dealings with men. I adapted a rather nasty habit of validating myself through their advances and through their level of commitment to me. How committed they were to me measured my worth as a person. Moreover, it was this “ugly duckling syndrome” that time and time again inhibited my own ability to make a candid decision. Looking over those diaries, I realised that my friends had been right when they told me that my disease was greatly impacting my choices in men. And as someone with an apparent penchant for self-destruction, I wouldn’t get away from the repercussions of these bad choices lightly.

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18th March 2010

How I feel about myself: 0/10

How I feel about my life: 3/10

It’s 3.00 am and all I want to do is crawl into a black hole and disappear. He hasn’t talked to me in days now – and THAT was only because I rang him; a move that apparently freaked him out about us. Or at least that’s the only logical conclusion I can come to. If we’re speaking ‘illogically’, of course, I can come up with some different theories. Think of all the men and boys I’ve dated before – in the end, none of them wanted me. Now we can add him to that list.

I really thought he was different. He gave me hope that there was something left to love in me. People (namely the girls) will argue that it’s not me and that, as always, ‘it’s him’. But let’s be totally honest here – I am the common denominator of all these failures. I feel unlovable – I clearly am unlovable – they can never even stick around long enough to even see any potential to love me. He wanted a rather quick fling on the beach and nothing more. Surely, I’m not worthy of anything meaningful or important to them in their apparently prestigious lives.

Given my Dad’s poor health this week, I was convinced he would get in touch – AND given that the two times we’ve been in contact was a result of my own initiation. I waited online for him; to present another opportunity to speak to him. But once again tonight, he declined the opportunity and went offline shortly after my own appearance. I feel sick. I don’t feel an overwhelming sensation of pain. Instead I feel a sickening emptiness. I feel like a hole has been punched through me and left me completely hollow. I feel empty and worthless. I knew it wouldn’t take long; no matter how wonderful he seemed, I knew that this high was only temporary – just a fleeting pleasure that would evaporate as fast as it had appeared.

I never know what I do wrong. In my own, apparently distorted head, things were going so well. He’s going to finish it now, the next time we speak that is. That’s what they do. They ignore you for as long as you let it drag on – until you finally accept the reality and ask them why they’ve ignored you for so long. Then they say that they’re not ready for a relationship – just want to be ‘alone’ for a while, or are scared of getting into a relationship and are not ‘ready for that kind of commitment’ – it’s all the same. And it’s all bullshit. The real reason is looking them in the face as they diplomatically state their case. The real reason is me. I feel so sick. I hate myself sometimes. And often just wish I could be a completely different person. Maybe then I would be worth loving, God forbid even committing to. Until then though, I have to endure being the fat, worthless and insignificant little girl I am.

I can’t take another failure. I am a failure. I can already feel my heart breaking. I don’t think I ever even fully healed from the last few times – the incision is just getting deeper, and more infected. I am infected and damaged, and now worthless. I wish I could say that I’ll lose all this weight, fix my skin and look irresistible the next time he sees me. But that won’t happen; I’ve lost my ability to do it. I can’t fast three days now without breaking it. I’m over ten and a half stone now again – and I wonder why they don’t want me ... wake up girl.

Yours, Leanne

14th December 2009

How I feel about myself: 3/10

How I feel about my life: 5/10

Okay, I had planned on restarting this journal on a very positive note but unfortunately, that’s not going to happen today. However, perhaps it’s better that I begin again from the ground up. Because the ground is certainly where I feel and in such circumstances perhaps things can only get better.

I don’t want to have an eating disorder. Whether or not I definitely have one I can’t be sure but sometimes it certainly feels like it. Today, I feel fat and unattractive. I started trying to eat healthily yesterday but surprise, surprise; I have already failed. Mum and Dad ordered in some takeaway food tonight. I didn’t want it but I just couldn’t bring myself to say no. How weak is that? This is why I sometimes don’t feel entirely normal. A normal person could have at least SOME self control and say a simple ‘No, thank you.’ But not me? Well that’s me all over; reckless and generally incredibly weak.

I didn’t really feel this way on Saturday night. While in the midst of trying to get over the last break-up, I went down to the pub with all the girls. It was good fun and I felt sexy because I was hit on by several guys. Yes, yes, I know what you’re thinking – she’s just using male attention to validate herself! Well that being acknowledged, can we just continue with the business of talking? Sometimes it’s like trying to get my fix. If I feel really low, I just have to go down to the strip and I’ll be full to the brim with compliments and they’ll do until the next time it all starts to turn bad again. Is that really pathetic? What am I saying, yes of course it is. Get over yourself Leanne, you know nobody really means any of those compliments they give you.

I went to the gym yesterday and again today. I’m proud that I dragged my lazy ass even over there but if I’m being honest, I don’t feel like whatever I’m doing is going to have any noticeable results. I don’t know if I’m even physically able to do any more exercise, but it’s like it’s just not going to change anything because maybe I’m not doing it right or something. Pessimistic, I know, but I’ve promised myself that no matter what I think, I’m going to go over there every day regardless. However, this being said, I still don’t feel particularly good about myself. I’m the heaviest I’ve been in a VERY long time now and generally just feel like a hippo. I’d give anything to lose weight. I tried the healthy eating gig and it just wasn’t working, or at least not fast enough. I’ll just have to stop eating altogether again. Doing that is the only thing that makes a difference and the only thing that makes me feel good. Moreover, I made myself sick again tonight after the takeaway. I haven’t done that in two days now and I feel totally ashamed. Firstly, because I wish I hadn’t eaten that disgusting meal (things were going so well beforehand) and secondly, because purging is the most undignified thing a person can do and stands only to highlight both my lack of willpower and utter weakness of character. The only reason how I feel about myself is rated at three and not at zero today is purely because of the attention everyone gave me on Saturday. Without that, I would definitely have been feeling much worse. Tomorrow will be better. I’ve promised myself this. I’ll work out in the morning, study in the afternoon and go to the gym in the evening – while not letting myself go above 200 calories.