For a long time I've felt so hollow and devoid of emotion; as if the world is revolving and I'm left at a standstill. So as of today, I stop trying to convince myself that everything’s okay and I start telling the truth without fear of consequence.
In 2005, I started secondary school, I also started restricting. I felt so empty and alone, and as if the only way to handle these emotions was to control my intake. I walked round in a daze trying to numb out the reality that surrounded me; I very much lived in my head, I became so detached and oblivious to everything around me that I finally felt in control. I thought I had it all sussed.
It wasn't until 2008 that I began to establish a strong set of friends and started to feel that I was finding my place; for the first time I felt I had some purpose, albeit mundane. It would be another year and a half before I found out we weren't as strong as we conceived ourselves to be.
The following year was a struggle; I was still fighting the intense urge to engage in disordered behaviours. But as my relationships with peers grew from strength to strength, I discovered a new-found confidence and I felt as if I was excelling within myself; like the only way from here was up.
On the 12th of November in the same year, I was sexually assaulted and everything came crashing down faster than I care to remember. As I went down the same well travelled route I took every day with my friend (who I shall refer to as ‘she’ from this point onwards) , a man (who I shall refer to as ‘he’) approached us and asked us to stop; I had to access in a split second the risk of standing still or the risk of continuing in the direction I was headed. I decided to take the risk of standing still- I felt it outweighed the potential threat of walking away. To this day I still ask myself whether things would be different had I been just five minutes later, if I hadn't been so trusting and naive enough to stand still. That was the first day I purged. I felt so unworthy and demeaned it was the only thing I felt I could do.
In the aftermath of the assault there was one thing I could never get a hold on; why me and not her? Not that I’d wish this upon anyone, but the fact it was me and me alone made me feel even more like a victim; like he had specifically chosen me;The only possibility I could think of was that I was nearest and therefore most vulnerable, but as I began to think even more about what happened, that possibility became harder to condone; she was stood centimetres away from me.
What made it harder to deal with was the fact that she seemed totally unfazed by it all; how she acted so coy and just followed at a distance whilst walking, when the whole way I was running down the road, I didn’t stop worrying about what could be happening to her. As soon as she caught up with me I asked her if he did anything to her too and I remember dissolving into tears at the thought; I would’ve never forgiven myself had something happened and I left her in that situation. Then I’d be just as bad as him.
Before I entered year ten, court proceedings began, and although I was still purging and restricting, the court case gave me something to focus on; I felt I was regaining control over a situation I had no control of. But by now I was so absorbed in the eating disorder I felt there was no way out, I didn’t even want to find one.
I didn’t have to give evidence in court, but I had the choice of having a statement read on my behalf about how the case had affected me for both him and the Jury to hear. I chose not to; I wanted him to know what happened had affected me, but not to the extent it did. I refused to give him the satisfaction. After the hearing was adjourned five times, he was finally sentenced to 45 weeks imprisonment- suspended for twelve months, a payment of £400 in six months and 120 hours unpaid work before September of 2010.
In September of 2008 I entered year ten and started my first of two years of GCSE’S- somehow, despite everything that had happened, and the eating disorder, I came out with two A*’s, a B and a C.For the first time I started to feel proud.
In year eleven I felt I had been sworn to silence long enough and I finally found the courage to speak out about my disorder. Little did I know this would turn the people who had been close to me for the past two years into vindictive little bitches; telling me I was doing this solely for attention, others posting all about it over Facebook, some even not believing me at all. As people began to doubt me, the pull towards the disorder became even stronger; it felt like the only thing I could rely on.
Eventually the whole year knew and I spiralled even more out of control- I was trying so hard to keep it together. It felt like the identity I had worked so hard to create for myself was being torn away and I no longer knew myself, because for so long I’d only ever known myself inside the disorder. Everything began to take its toll and I fell behind with coursework, I was yo-yoing back and forth in and out off lessons due to the constant urge to pee (as a result of excessive water loading) and panic attacks. Teachers became concerned; they knew something was wrong, they just didn’t know what, or didn’t want to assume they did. I got so sick of the constant questioning that I learnt to become better at lying.
In time I was forced to admit I had a problem and I was made to tell my mum, who despite having suffered from Bulimia when she was younger, thought I was doing this solely to spite her. I withdrew further and further into myself.
After a while I began counselling at school despite really not wanting to. The counsellor was totally insensitive towards the situation and in one session she asked me ‘how the whole puking thing was going’. After that session I devised ways to get out of every other session.If she did come and get me out of lessons I’d tell her I was doing okay and she’d let me go within seconds.
Despite my negative experiences with everyone who I thought would support me, I found a confidant in both my P.E teacher and Deputy Head, who always seemed to know what to say. For the first time I felt like someone genuinely cared about my wellbeing.
A few months later I left school and I felt even more out of control; I’d only just began getting used to Secondary school and now I was having to make choices of my own.Looking back, I’ve always feared responsibility.
I start college in a week’s time; I know it’s going to be a big trigger, but in the mean time, I’m just trying to keep looking forward. It seems I've already lost anything that would've been worth fighting for, but that doesn't mean to say I won't find something that will be worth fighting to get.
I’m not ready for recovery yet, but I’m a damm sight closer than I was.
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