I went out, at the weekend, with some people I hadn’t met before.
It was a beautifully hot day and my friends had brought a picnic so we sat, on the Heath, with the other picnic-makers, and I fell asleep in the sun. The conversation rose – and fell – around me; and I drifted in – and out – of what was being said. At some point, one of the guys (a chef, I think), produced a box of homemade cookies and handed them around. A joke was made, to his girlfriend, about how hard it must be to live with a great cook; and she replied, that it didn’t matter, because he’d taught her how to be sick.
The comment winded me.
The conversation carried on. Someone joked that it would be easier, then, to eat what you wanted if you could just throw it all back up. Another, that they’d seen a show about a hospital where people ate toilet roll. Someone else chipped in that apparently “they” drunk water out of the showers, to make it look like “they” had gained weight.
And I felt my knees wobbling, and my friend’s colour rising, and my heart racing –
And then I left.
I was that girl who drank water out of the bathroom tap, at 4 in the morning, so that I’d be ready and prepared when they came with the scales. I fell for the illusion that bulimia was the solution, and a miraculous way that I could eat – without gaining weight. I cried in hospital showers and screamed at nurses and was reduced to a crying, hurting wreck.
And yet I said nothing.
Nothing.
I just crumbled under the shame.
I have been wrestling, since the weekend, with why I handled the situation so badly. Been trying to work out what I might have done differently, and acutely aware of all the things I didn’t say. What is the point of talking about an eating disorder if I check, first, that the audience is safe?
I know that it was hard to confront a group of strangers. I know that I was disarmed by the sudden turn in conversation. There was a certain irony that I was beside the very hospital, where I’d spent over three years of my life –
And yet I said nothing.
Nothing.
And now I feel a different kind of shame.
I have been trying to tell myself that the people, in question, did not seem likely to develop an eating disorder (but then you might have said that about me). That, whilst I am acutely aware of eating disorders’ trail of devastation, my perspective has obviously been swayed (although the numbers are rising and eating disorders kill). I have acknowledged the feelings of the person I was there with (though I think the shame probably belonged more to me); and the context of the conversation –
But I perpetuated the myth that an eating disorder is not a bad thing –
And I didn’t stand up and speak the truth.
Tags: Living With an Eating Disorder, living with it, Stigma, talking
What is really crap is that out of this encounter you’re more upset by your own ‘weakness’ and that you’ve come out of this as the most at fault. That is truly wrong if the others have been ignorant and making cruel jokes out of anorexia and bulimia.
It’s true they weren’t to know about your history and people put their foot in it but, to be honest, it could also have ended up worse if you’d raised your own opinion. The truth would be out there and misconceptions would be challenged, but then the entire day could’ve become really awkward and then you’d be judged from the start by new people as ‘the one with the eating disorder’. You just don’t know really and it’s such a difficult position for you to be in.
Really sorry to hear that a hard situation was exacerbated, gave you and beating and – worst of all – left you feeling bad about yourself. You should n’t be feeling shame – the shame is that eating disorders are still likely to be dismissed and may even be derided when they cause so much pain and so many problems (and yes, death).
This happens to me more often than I can count. I’ll be at dinner with friends, struggling to finish my salad, and someone makes a comment about the “anorexic waitress” or the girl who is “probably bulimic” and everyone speculates about the eating habits of so-and-so. And it’s troubling because I’ve been dealing with my anorexia for my entire life, and have just sought treatment a few months ago, and these are people I’ve known for years, and here they are speculating about someone else’s eating disorder.
So, basically, I understand how you feel.
I am so sad to hear how shameful you feel. Really, I don’t think you deserve to because from your talks that I saw on video etc. shows me that you DO have the courage to speak up and you should really feel proud of the times you have done in the past.
In reality there is no way you can challenge every myth or change everyone’s thinking. EDs are secretive, and a difficult concept for others to understand, so it is natural that myths arise.
It would have created an awkward situation for you. And they may not have understood, and judged you. It may have turned into an argument, and they may have guarded their (fasle) beliefs. The thing is, to speak up about EDs requires an audience who is willing to listen with an open mind. This is easier when it is group of people, or when people ask themselves. In your case, I think it may have been the right thing to do to speak up about AN/BN, but NOT at that time. Do you see what I mean? What I’m trying to get across is that it may not have been worth your time. You have not let anyone down by not speaking up.
It is too late to change things now. But take this as useful experience and ask yourself how you would approach a similar situation in the future; turn it into something more positive than this post suggests.
*Sends hugs* (and I’m not even a huggy person!
)
Try not to feel shameful about this experience. It doesn’t sound like there was anything for you to feel bad about. You were clearly in an awkward position (though no one would necessarily have known this) and whatever you did would probably have left you feeling strange.
If you had spoken up, as James says, you might have felt good for standing up for something you have strong opinions on, but then awkward for yourself and any friendships you may develop with these people. As it is, you feel bad for not saying anything, but it is important to know what you have done for you by doing this.
You have looked after yourself by:
1. Leaving open the opportunity to make new friends with people, whose knowledge of you isn’t just that you have had an eating disorder until the time feels right to share such things.
2. Prevented yourself from feeling exposed and emotionally vulnerable in a time and place you weren’t prepared for such an encounter.
3. Not reacting on a gut reaction, which can sometimes leave you regretting things said that cannot be unsaid.
You have also protected the other people by:
1. Not making others feel worse, who may have issues with food that you don’t know about and which the flippancy might have been covering up.
2. Not embarrasing those people who were making flippant comments. Yes, it might have made them more aware of people with eating disorders’ feelings, but it might not have been in the best way, and leave them feeling negatively about the subject.
From my viewpoint, you did what seems a perfectly reasonable response, and whilst it might leave you with a nasty taste in the mouth, you needn’t feel guilty or bad at all.
Thank you so much for these comments. I have spent the first half of this week feeling like I was carrying around a guilty secret and you have helped me to put it into a far better perspective. It wasn’t the right setting and I was too raw from the location to speak rationally, but I don’t like the sense that I didn’t challenge the comment so next time I think I’ll point out, calmly, that eating disorders are dangerous – and then move the conversation on.
Elizabeth – I totally get how hard that is and also how isolated I think you can feel in the midst of those kinds of comments. Even a reference on TV used to make my stomach squirm and made it so much harder to make sense of the experience. I’m really glad that you’re getting treatment and wish you all the best on your journey. xx