by Lydia Davies
Raw
The diary of an anorexic
Lydia Davies
Copyright
Certain names in this book have been omitted to protect the privacy of those involved.
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First published by HarperTrueLife 2015
FIRST EDITION
Text © Lydia Davies 2015
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Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
10 March 2014
2011
19 October 2011
6 November 2011
18 November 2011
4 December 2011
4 December 2011
9 December 2011
15 December 2011
21 December 2011
28 December 2011
29 December 2011
30 December 2011
2012
2 January 2012
6 January 2012
14 January 2012
17 January 2012
18 January 2012
18 January 2012
18 January 2012
20 January 2012
21 January 2012
21 January 2012
21 January 2012
24 January 2012
27 January 2012
29 January 2012
29 January 2012
30 January 2012
31 January 2012
1 February 2012
9 February 2012
25 February 2012
27 February 2012
27 February 2012
16 March 2012
16 March 2012
7 April 2012
12 April 2012
14 April 2012
15 April 2012
16 April 2012
17 April 2012
20 April 2012
4 May 2012
10 May 2012
13 May 2012
21 May 2012
21 May 2012
21 May 2012
23 May 2012
25 May 2012
28 May 2012
1 June 2012
1 June 2012
31 July 2012
3 August 2012
8 September 2012
14 September 2012
18 September 2012
9 October 2012
30 October 2012
2 November 2012
24 December 2012
30 December 2012
2013
3 January 2013
10 January 2013
11 January 2013
18 January 2013
29 January 2013
11 February 2013
17 February 2013
22 February 2013
27 February 2013
28 March 2013
18 April 2013
25 April 2013
29 April 2013
29 April 2013
5 May 2013
26 May 2013
10 March 2014
Why not try …
Why not try …
Moving Memoirs eNewsletter
Write for Us
About the Publisher
10 March 2014
At the age of 19 I was diagnosed with anorexia nervosa. Through this illness, I lost so much more than just an excessive amount of weight. I was ripped away from the life I had created at university in Newcastle, thus taking away my degree, two and a half years’ worth of work, my freedom, friends, boyfriend and independence. I was transported back to the life a child lives, being nursed, cared for and catered to by my incredible family. Every sense of normality in life that I knew was gone, and so was my sanity.
The pages that follow are a raw record of the unexpected journey I found myself on. Along with original letters from my doctors, I have included letters to and from family members and friends, messages of support and encouragement from loads of amazing people when I was really struggling, posts from my blog which I wrote throughout my attempts at recovery, personal notes from my phone and suicide notes that I wrote in desperate times.
The first letter from my mother is, I now realise, the starting point of when my secret (which I didn’t know I had) was out. I was in complete denial, and absolutely oblivious to the fact that I was anorexic. To be looked in the eye and told by a medical professional that you are going to die should be one of the most terrifying moments imaginable. When I was told this on three separate occasions, not once did it hit me. I was so far away in a separate realm to reality that my concept of everything was gone.
Two years on, what happened to me is still extremely raw, and it consumes a large space of my mind, dominating most of my memories. Through recovery I developed bulimia nervosa, attempted suicide on more occasions than I would like to mention, have been at my absolute lowest mentally and physically, and ripped my family’s hearts out.
This chronological map of words and documents may help people to understand the damaged and delicate mind of a sufferer. I want people to be informed about what it is really like to get pulled down so deep into the dangerous world of disordered eating, and I want other sufferers to feel comfort, and perhaps gain courage from this open book of my most personal secrets.
2011
19 October 2011
It was on the nineteenth of October 2011 that I received a letter from my mother via email, which cut through my heart like a knife. My stomach dropped and I burst into tears as I read it. I had been completely emotionless and glassy-eyed for some time up until this point.
A letter from my mum
Dear Lydia,
From the moment you were born I loved you with all my heart and that love has only deepened with time. You are beautiful, smart, funny, kind, loyal, caring … (and many more good things). You have so much going for you: loyal friends who love you, a lovely boyfriend, a family who loves you (you mean the world to all of us). You have a great living situation this year and you seem to be getting stuck into work in a more positive way than last year or the year before. It is lovely hearing you sound positive and excited about the future, thinking of Paris, styling, travelling, etc.
You were brave in seeking help for feelings of depression in the summer and while the positive effects of the treatment are clear to see, it will be natural to have ups and downs – everyone does; but keeping on with the counselling will, as you know, help you to deal with negative thoughts.
I have written hundreds of letters to you in my head when I can’t sleep for worrying about you, and I thought that I would try to write some of my worries down, because I can
’t store all this up in my head for much longer.
Although you seem to be feeling a bit happier, you are continuing to get thinner and thinner. Everyone can see that you have an eating disorder and that you need help to get better – except you can’t see it. It is not your fault and you probably can’t help it – that is what this illness is like. If you can’t see how frighteningly thin you have become, then think about how you feel. Cold? Tired? Aching body? Low energy? etc. Is this how you want to spend the rest of your life? You don’t have to. This flu and its complications are not surprising. Your defences will not be able to fight off germs as your immune system has been compromised. You used to read a lot of stuff about illnesses that you thought you might have. Well, now that you have this, I wonder if you have looked up any information about it. There are some useful websites, e.g.
- b-eat.co.uk
- ABC anorexiabulimiacare.org.uk
- Supportline.org.uk/problems/anorexia.php
Effects of a starvation diet:
I think you already know some of the long-term effects, e.g.
- Body metabolizes/eats its own muscle to stay alive (this is happening to you now).
- Can lead to heart disease or even heart attack.
- Osteoporosis/bone-wasting disease – all the minerals are leached out of your bones, causing them to become brittle and fragile and break easily. Also, you shrink and I can see that your posture has changed; you have become hunched. If this is left to continue, your body will sadly become more like that of a frail 90-year-old woman than a 20-year-old.
- Loss of periods/fertility – if not corrected early enough, you may never know the joy of creating a family with someone you love. This would be so sad.
- Dry skin, pale yellowy complexion, dry brittle hair which then starts to fall out, fine downy hair growing on the face and body … the list goes on …
If left untreated you will get worse and worse until you are hospitalised. I don’t want that and I’m sure you don’t either.
The thing is, Lydia, that you can choose to continue along this path or to turn things around and to get better. I know it must seem a very hard step to take – to firstly admit that you have a problem and then to say that you want to get better (to someone, anyone, a doctor?). There is lots of help out there but you need to want it. You are a strong person and I hope and pray that you will have the courage to seek this help ASAP and to take control in turning your life around for the better. It won’t be easy (the hardest thing will be the first step) but you will have us all and your friends to support you. Everybody wants you to get better. The sooner proper professional treatment begins, the better the outcome.
Please, please, please, I beg you (we all do), please want to get better.
I will always love you,
Mum xoxoxox
I discovered that a housemate across the hall from me had electronic scales in her bedroom. I had never owned scales – my mother believed it could be unhealthy (as it is just a number, which is irrelevant). This machine fascinated me. When everyone was out of the house I found myself sneaking into her room more and more frequently to step on this incredible glass square. It started out as once a week, or every few days, out of curiosity. This quickly turned into me darting in and out just to see what number it would read at every opportunity I got. I was addicted to seeing the numbers drop. If they had not dropped or had gone up by even a quarter of a pound I would burst into tears, try to be sick or do some star jumps, and then consult the scales again literally half an hour later, praying that they would have gone down. I remember getting below the 7-stone mark and feeling absolutely triumphant. I had never in my life felt more proud of myself than I did then. The last time I had weighed myself properly was years before, and I had been 9 stone plus. I was absolutely buzzing, and determined to get my weight down further and further.
6 November 2011
Email from a friend
Lydia you look hungry! You would look so much nicer with a bitta weight on you x x
My identity became my eating disorder, and my eating disorder was my identity. I looked in the mirror and could not believe how thin I had got. I gazed at my perfect legs, ran my blue fingers over my protruding ribcage like a piano. My face was sunken, my cheekbones like daggers. The largest part of my body was my haunted eyes, which stared back at me in the mirror in a state of pure amazement and triumph at what I had achieved. I bought a pair of size-four jeans which dangled around my stick-like legs, and hung so loose around my waist and bottom that I had to wear three pairs of tights and a pair of leggings under them just to keep them on. My hip bones poked out through my clothes, my stomach was concave and my elbows sharp as knives. My breasts were completely non-existent, and even a child’s bra sat inches away from my chest. Even my knickers didn’t fit, as I no longer had a bottom. They hung limply off me and resembled a loose nappy. Yes, to you this may all sound extremely unattractive, but I felt absolutely stunning. I did not look real, I looked like some strange mystical creature, and that is what I felt like, on a trip away with the fairies, deep in a world of fantasy. In contrast, though, I felt fearful. Fearful of death at times, but then when I was feeling euphoric I could not care less. Such a mix of these powerfully contrasting feelings is almost impossible to describe unless you have been through this yourself. Even then, though, I cannot say that other people felt the same. The beautifully haunted world that I was living in was miles away from anyone else and everything else.
18 November 2011
From my GP in Newcastle
I have been seeing Lydia at the Eating Disorder Unit since the beginning of October. For some time Lydia has struggled with anxiety and depression and has been restricting her diet in order to lose weight. In the last four weeks she has been seen and assessed by our Regional Eating Disorder Unit and has been diagnosed with anorexia nervosa. Lydia is undertaking a community based treatment programme and her mum has moved up to Newcastle to support her with this. The Eating Disorder Consultant is doing this as a trial over the next couple of weeks but it may come to a point where Lydia has to be admitted to an inpatient bed in the Eating Disorder Unit in Newcastle. Lydia is currently attending the Eating Disorder Unit twice a week to have bloods, heart tracing and weight assessments. She is following a strict diet treatment plan.
Yours sincerely,
Dr ******
Both my parents came to my consultation with the head psychiatrist at the Eating Disorder Unit. She was a large, fearsome-looking woman whom I immediately decided I hated. She led me through the inpatient unit to assess me. On the way through, we passed several demented-looking skeletons. I gasped at how thin and emaciated they looked (unaware that to others I looked much the same). As sick and twisted as it sounds, I felt jealous of them. I also felt embarrassed to be there. They must all be wondering who this fat girl is and why she is here – she doesn’t have anorexia! Funnily enough, we were all probably thinking the same thing about each other, eyes darting, analysing and comparing our bodies to each other’s in a swift glance. Sizing up the ‘competition’.
4 December 2011
My blog post
Influence and Inspiration
I have decided to make this blog more of a personal diary of my thoughts, and use it for myself to look back on, though if you happen to read it I hope that you gain some inspiration and enjoyment …
My family. They are absolutely amazing and I am so grateful.
My boyfriend. Equally amazing.
My friends. And again …
Listening to wise people.
One night we went to a bar to sell our goods. I put on my sparkly high heels, baggy leggings and a jumper. I felt like I finally looked pretty amazing. My legs were like two pins (they were more like needles). I got drunk and had a lovely evening. I had a conversation with one of my lecturers who attended that night and it inspired me so much. She told me it was great that I had come out but I needed to sort myself out. She said she had wanted to bring me vitami
n drinks into university on several occasions, because if I wasn’t going to eat I could at least drink. We talked about ways in which to inspire myself through glamour and fashion. She told me to watch old movies and escape through reading and ideas. It was an amazing conversation and it lit a lightbulb in my head. I confided in her and explained how I didn’t know who I was any more. Our conversation hit the right nerve and I will remember it forever.
4 December 2011
My blog post
Something I wrote in my phone, probably at 5.40 a.m., one time:
The worst thing is having to think about it and talk about it all the time. Having fun, being creative, listening to inspiring people and watching inspiring films can take me away. Drawing, ink, outfits, glamour, ideas, aspirations are a saviour. Confidence, influence and inspiration are key words. Nothing is safe but everything is amazing. Creativity and drive will save me. Excitement and networking and listening to and hearing other people.
The only way in which I was able to warm up my permanently icy body was by sitting in a bath full of boiling water. I would run it as deep as I could before the water started to get cold. Actually, getting in was horrendous, as it meant taking off all of my clothes and being unbearably cold for some long seconds. I would lower myself in slowly until my sharp tailbone clunked against the bottom of the tub. It was absolute agony to sit. I would lie back, my spine cracking against the surface. Sometimes I would exhale all of the air in my lungs and lie completely under the water, just to see what it might feel like to not be in the world any more. I would imagine drowning and only bring myself back up when I had to. I would look down at my purple knees, and would examine my skeleton of a body. Sometimes I would stroke the layer of fur that was developing on my arms, and wonder whether I HAD taken things too far, and even be a little scared. Thoughts like this never lasted more than a few seconds, as they quickly disappeared behind the mist of the voice congratulating me for achieving skinny. Getting out of the bath was dreadful. Being soaking wet and THAT cold was excruciating. I would dart to my bedroom down the hall and blast the hairdryer over my transparent skin in a desperate attempt to heat myself again.
Another thing I did a lot around this time was sit on benches. I would just walk around completely dazed and sit on benches anywhere by myself, and not think. I would be completely blank and glazed over, but horrendously lonely, cold and depressed at the same time. I remember sitting on a bench in town outside a church for several hours once. I was completely numb, and feeling nothing, till I felt a tear slide down my face, and then another, and then another. I didn’t move, I just sat there, blinking terrified tears, but feeling powerless to them. I felt like I had nowhere to go, no one to talk to and nothing to say anyway. I ended up going into the church, and sitting talking to myself, and maybe God. I had no idea what to do with myself. I was so, so sad.
