For Eating Disorders Awareness Week, Sally shares her story of what it was like to open up to friends about her history of disordered eating. She wants to offer hope for anybody feeling uncertain about reaching out: “I’ve poured my heart and soul into the piece hoping it might help pull someone else out of the fire.”

Banishing the Troll

Back in the nineteen nineties I was often hailed as the ‘sensible and dependable’ one of the family. And in many ways that label fitted me perfectly. However, there was a very different side to my day-to-day existence that I was determined to keep a secret. The truth was, I was trapped within the grasp of an eating disorder, and just like everything else I was passionate about, it veered into the realms of an obsession that completely took over my life. 
 

If I had been asked to describe my illness, I would say it felt like a troll, a very hungry troll, that would drag me under its bridge to devour me, over and over again. It was relentless and exhausting, but weirdly the troll also gave me an ill-fitting sense of comfort in what I thought at the time was a friendless and confusing world. But it was not a comfort at all. In reality, the troll was  a powerful and cunning hypnotist that tricked me into disowning my community as much as I had already disowned myself. 
 
When my family eventually found out about my secret, the shock from the exposure was the final straw that broke its spell. But the guilt and shame still sat with me, buried alive, for many years to come. I no longer had the same urges, but I still had its stubborn legacy to deal with. My problem was, I still saw that pesky troll in the mirror everyday. It lived deep within my eyes and it was etched across my face, and what was the worse thing of all? — I feared everyone else could see it too. But nevertheless, after thirty years I was tired of living in the troll’s shadows. I needed to show the world (and myself) the real me, so I tried something which was rather revolutionary...

 
You see, trolls are dim-witted creatures that love deception and darkness. What they hate is courage, honesty, kinship and connection. So for the first time, I let down my guard and I started to speak to good people. Just a little at first, and the incredible thing was, they understood me. They didn’t judge me, they accepted me. And it felt amazing. I was discovering the key to true connection, and it wasn’t about trying to be the perfect human being, it was about allowing myself to engage in all forms of open communication. And the best thing of all? … I knew my new community still liked me, despite knowing about some of my fears and deepest vulnerabilities.
 
It took many mouse steps for the guilt and shame to no longer belong to me, and to be honest, I’m still trying to find the right connections. But overall, I no longer feel the need to be on my own. I now understand that reaching out to other people will not render me ‘weak' or any less independent. Rather, it makes me a person with a kaleidoscope of emotions who deserves to be open to the whole human experience, alongside every other good person on this planet.
 
Being amongst emotionally intelligent people can help you discover how much you truly matter. You want to laugh with them, cry with them, dance with them, and embrace them, all because they can see you beyond the lens of an eating disorder. They see you as the person nature intended you to be, not the person that the troll has fooled you into thinking you are.
 

Even the strongest people need support from time to time. So I encourage you to take a deep breath and begin to share your voice with someone that you trust. Whether that’s with a professional, a loved one or a warm voice at the end of a helpline, it really doesn’t matter. What matters is you will no longer be alone with your troubles and you’ve taken the first brave step to finding your community, with your kind of people, that will banish that troll back under its bridge, forever!
 
Wishing you strength and happiness,
 
- Sally