CN: descriptions of an eating disorder
I have spent the last year battling the two worlds of my mind; the one who wants to recover from my eating disorder, and the one who craves relapsing back into the comfort of an illness that has consumed me for five years.
This mental pull of recovery vs relapse has been weighing me down consistently since choosing to seek help.
Growing up, I spent my entire childhood and adolescent life in a bigger body – one that was classified as ‘obese’. I recall having to get on the scales in front of my class one day, and have my weight and BMI publicly announced to the class. I was only 12. I remember tears welling into my eyes as the teacher announced I was obese while I walked back to my desk, head bowed down, listening to those around me snickering. It was one of the most humiliating moments of my life.
My mother said I would be more beautiful if I just stopped eating and lost a little weight. It wasn’t made easier with traumatic events occurring at home, such as my dad going to prison twice in my childhood. I was the eldest child of immigrant parents who did not speak English; leaving me with big responsibilities.
I am also part of generation fuelled by TikTok; serving me content around diet and gym culture.
It all became the perfect storm for breeding an eating disorder.
I set myself one goal, and one goal only:
Rahma (aged 6) at a family party with the only memory she has where her relationship with food wasn’t fractured. Source: Supplied
I will lose weight, become really hot – and then I will be happy.
I lost weight – a lot of it. My body began shrinking in size, and I began receiving endless compliments. When moments of weight-plateau would hit, the compliments would stop, and I would feel like a failure – worthless and humiliated. It was a drug, and I was hooked on it. Was I happy? Heck no! But for the first time in my life, I finally felt like I was attractive, and that people desired me. I craved their attention and approval.
But it was never enough. I developed an unhealthy obsession with the gym. I stopped going out to social events, I became addicted to calorie counting and macro tracking. I cut carbs, sugar, and meat. Went on keto, paleo - whatever was trending at that time.
Add in Ramadan to the mix; a time where Muslims are required to fast from sunrise to sunset. It taught me I could go hours without eating, and that I could lose weight much faster this way. Ramadan was a time I used to love as a child for the food and celebration. It has now lost all meaning to me and become too triggering. My eating disorder has robbed me of my ability to connect with my family, community and culture through food.
Lockdown saw me spiral out of control and by July 2020, I was taken to hospital and fast-tracked into in-patient treatment at a Sydney psychiatric hospital. I was 25 and a doctor hit me with my health issues: bradycardia, loss of periods, and early osteoporosis.
Some days I find myself scrolling through pictures of my old body, comparing it to the one I have now. I miss the compliments I received when I was smaller.
Rahma (aged 24) and her mother right before Rahma was admitted into inpatient care in 2020. Source: Supplied
For a long time, it was my safety blanket, my mind and body’s response to all the trauma I had endured as a child. I miss spending my days being hungry, the mental games and the mind challenges.
How long can I go without food today? How little can I eat? How can I fool everyone into thinking I have just eaten this meal?
I crave the hungry pit in my stomach, and the ache in my body, brought on by the lack of food and exercise. I miss the feeling of my bones as I rubbed my hands around my ribcage day in and day out.
I still don’t have a period and because of this I still have a high calorie-low exercise diet plan. I often ask myself, is it worth it?
Then my Rational Mind speaks – wait no, she roars. She reminds me to keep going, to keep fighting. I lashed out at those around me, lied to them all and pushed everyone away. She reminds me that there is a life worth living, a body worth respecting and a mind worth healing. She pulls me out of the dark world and back onto the ground.
It has been hardest on my sweet parents. My parents who did not believe in mental health issues before my hospitalisation, who were raised to suffer with their trauma in silence and who blamed themselves for my downfall.
Sometimes I wonder if I will ever get better and if the voices will ever stop.
Will I ever be happy with the body I have?
Will I always have a fractured relationship with food and exercise?
Will I ever not miss my eating disorder?
Or if I will feel stuck between two worlds forever?
I don’t know the answers. All I can do is trust myself, my rational mind and my body.
Butterfly National Helpline 1800 33 4673 provides free phone, email, and referrals for individuals experiencing an eating disorder, carers and their families.
Those seeking support can also contact Lifeline on 13 11 14.
Rahma (she/her) comes from a Lebanese family and is working in media and marketing. She loves reading, writing, and consuming content. You can follow her on Instagram
This article is an edited extract from an entry to the 2021 SBS Emerging Writers' Competition.
