I wanted to share a little of my life and experiences with you here, in the hope that it may help you to see that eating disorders CAN be beaten. I have suffered much abuse in my life and lived through 14 years of chronic anorexia but I am now happy and healthy and am leading a life free of my eating disorder.

I spent a great deal of my childhood with my abusive Grandmother and so some of my earliest memories are of cruelty. She constantly told me that I was worthless, unloveable, ugly and fat, even though I was none of those things. She played many cruel tricks that always hurt and which gradually destroyed my self-esteem.

I saw my Grandmother every day in an attempt to protect my Mother. I could prevent my Gran from being cruel to my Mum if I took all the abuse and that is what I tried to do from a very young age. My Gran constantly threatened me with further punishment, both to myself and my parents, if I spoke about the treatment I received from her and so I stayed quiet.

By the age of 13, the abuse had worn me out and my body began to shut down. I developed "glandular fever" and ended up in the children's ward of a hospital. My Grandmother visited me daily and, under the noses of the doctors and nurses, continued to abuse me. I was obviously unhappy and doctors prescribed large adult doses of anti-depressant drugs. The powerful drugs caused me to start hallucinating and eventually I lost the ability to read or write. After my discharge from the hospital, I slowly taught myself to read again with the aid of a piece of card that isolated only a few words at a time. It took two years for me to reach a stage where I was able to read and write normally again.

My Mum had developed severe migraines when I was a child, also due to my Grandmother's behaviour towards her.  By the time I was 17, she was taking a cocktail of strong prescription drugs. Following the death of an Uncle, my Nan became obsessional and Mum, no longer able to cope, disappeared into a fantasy world. My Gran told me everything was my fault and that I had caused all my family's problems. I decided I had to disappear. I felt totally unworthy and stopped eating. I felt I no longer deserved food and I also started to self-harm. I was cutting my arms very frequently in an attempt to punish myself and to try to block out the mental torment with physical pain. Trapped in an impossible situation, I found I was developing anorexia  - my body's desperate cry for help.

At a dangerously low weight, I started college in an attempt to put distance between myself and my Gran. She stayed in touch though and began sending me poisonous letters. I only stayed at college for a year because after the first six months, I began to be treated badly by one of my housemates. On leaving college, I decided to get a job and began work in a Solicitors practice. There I met Tom, a 70 year old man in the midst of a painful divorce who seemed to gain pleasure from publicly humiliating me.

I soon lost the small amount of weight that I had gained at college while I was away from my Grandmother's direct influence. Now I had two abusers to handle, Tom at work and Gran at home. By the time I was 21 I was chronically anorexic and was referred to a psychiatrist who simply told me to "Go home and eat". This was impossible for me as I now felt controlled by an anorexic voice that spoke to me constantly, telling me how bad I was every time I ate. Unable to force myself to eat, I became very weak and was forced to give up my job.

I was by now totally obsessed with food and went to extreme measures to avoid eating. I worked out elaborate plans to dispose of food and also started taking laxatives. I began seeing a psychiatric nurse once a week. She disagreed with the diagnosis of anorexia and said I was suffering from M.E. Comforted, I agreed with her, because it masked the shame I felt at having anorexia. 

I worked with the nurse for a year and I fell deeper and deeper into the anorexia. My Dad retired from his job and we moved to Cornwall. Within three months, I was in an acute psychiatric hospital, on complete bed rest because the doctors were scared I could have a heart attack at any time. My Grandmother sent me letters at the hospital, telling me my parents didn't love me and asking me why I just didn't let myself die?

After a month I managed to convince the doctors to discharge me and I began therapy with another nurse but over time my weight just gradually fell once more. I constantly lied and cheated the doctors, trying to fool them into believing I was heavier than I actually was but I still looked extremely ill. They called in an emergency treatment team to help me try to eat more at home because once again my life was at risk. My weight continued to fall and to my total horror, I found myself back in hospital again. This time I was admitted to an Eating Disorders Unit 200 miles from my home. There I was told that I was only hours from death.

The hospital did save my life and I stayed there for six months, working hard at therapy sessions each day. I wasn't totally honest with the doctors though - the anorexic voice in my head was still very powerful. It still told me that eating food was bad and being thin was good. I hid the voice from the medical staff though and managed to convince them I was well enough to leave. I was still a very sick young woman when I was discharged from the hospital in Bristol. Physically I was a lot better but mentally and emotionally I was still very ill.

For the next five years, I lived at home with my parents. Gradually my weight dropped but I managed to maintain it at a level just high enough to keep me out of hospital. I started my own needlework business and lived an isolated life at home each day, sewing elaborate pictures. The only time I went out was with my parents, and we all lived a very controlled and strictly time-tabled existence. I was living the life of a child instead of an adult woman. 

I was nearly 30 years old and extremely lonely. I took a huge risk and joined a pen pal club in the hope of making new friends. It was through this club that I met Simon - a kind, understanding and caring man. Like myself, Simon suffered from low self-esteem and I felt able to tell him about my life, including the abuse and the anorexia. This was the real start of my recovery. Simon showed me that I was not the terrible person my Grandmother had always said I was. Slowly I began to understand that I didn't need to constantly punish myself by starvation and self-harm. I realised that Simon had nothing to gain by lying to me about how I looked and I learnt to trust him and his view of my body, rather than my distorted anorexic view.

After a few months we were engaged. I am now two years into my recovery and, with Simon's help, I am living a fulfilled and happy life. Now I feel I want to give something back and hope that I can help other sufferers of this horrifying and increasingly widespread illness with my book. I decided to write about my experience of anorexia to show that however far into the illness you are, you CAN still recover. In the six months since my book was published, I have been talking with hundreds of sufferers via e-mail. BBC Television filmed a documentary about my story called "Quietly Dying" in an attempt to spread the message about the dangers of eating disorders. I have been a speaker at the Eating Disorders Conference, describing anorexia from a patient's perspective to doctors. I have also been asked to give staff training at an ED unit, teaching the staff exactly what it feels like to live with anorexia and the anorexic voice.

I hope that just by offering this brief summary of my life, I may have given you some hope. I lived with anorexia for 14 years. I NEVER believed that I would be free of the illness, yet I still managed to fight my way back. If you are suffering from an eating disorder please feel free to visit my web site at:

www.annapaterson.com 

and if you would like a chat, my e-mail address is:
Anna@anorectic.fsnet.co.uk