Life without Anorexia

My motto is
'Dont let the sadness of your past & the fear of your future ruin the happiness of your present'

My life at the moment is completely different to how it once was. I spent 5 years sick with anorexia nervosia and depression as well as struggling with self harm and overexercising. I spent 2 years in different treatment centres.
And since 2012 i have been declared healthy from my eating disorder.

I have been blogging for 7 years, and my whole journey is written in my posts. I now represent healthy and happiness. I want to show anyone struggling that it is possible to recover, no matter how hard it may seem.

I now blog about recovery, my life, veganism and positivity!

If you have any questions leave them in the comment section as i am much quicker at answering there, otherwise you can always send an email:


Wednesday, September 30, 2015

Time heals all wounds

I believe in the quote that "time heals all wounds", im some sense anyway. Not all 'wounds' can be fully healed, somethings in life make such a huge impact that you will never really be the same and whatever happened will always be remembered. But time makes things better, because you grow, you change. You experience new things and the past becomes the past and memories and experiences might not affect you as much, but learning to let go and move on are also huge parts of that. You cant expect wounds to heal if you keep picking at the scabs, and you cant expect memories to fade and be less painful if you keep rethinking them, keep them in your mind at all times.

For me, i dont live in the past. What i went through is the past and all the horrible things i went through and experience, they are mostly forgotten, or atleast arent thought about so often so it can feel like they are gone, like it was all some type of nightmare, which in a sense it was. But then sometimes, memories hit me hard..... and i begin thinking about just exactly what i have been through. The feelings and the emotions and it is crazy to think about that it was actually reality.

While in the psychiatric unit in Ireland i spent days on end not talking, just lying in bed. I wasnt allowed to move, i wasnt allowed to go to the bathroom without someone following me. I wasnt allowed to drink so much water. I would sit by the kitchen table 6 times a day with a staff across from me and a plate of food infront of me. The first few weeks they would try to pepp me to eat, try to encourage me. But by the last few weeks there both me and the staff would just sit and stare at the clock, both knowing that the meal would leave the table exactly the same as it arrived.
I had staff who would sit and stare at me while i lay in the bed, not even allowed to read or watch films because that apparently "Burned too many calories". All i was allowed to do was listen to music and lie in the bed. But as soon as the staff would leave for some reason i would jump out of bed and do jumping jacks, not caring that the bed would make noise each time i moved or got out.
The bed was uncomfortable and hard so each morning i would wake up with bruises and pain as well as a sigh as i was still alive and had to try to get through another day. I wasnt allowed a phone or contact with the outside world and i was only allowed to call my family if i gained weight, but as that never really happened i got very little contact with my family and when i did get to call them i would sit and cry in the kitchen of the hospital and beg my mum to get me out of there. She wanted to, but she knew she couldnt because no matter how much i promised that i would do right at home she knew that i was lying, but also that she wasnt allowed to take me home. Because i was underage and so undernourished i had to be in treatment centre, if i were to run away - which i had thought about so often, but knew i wouldnt be able to because all the doors were locked and had alarms - i would have had the police after me.

Finally after 6 weeks of hell i had to be moved to the kids hospital and get tube fed as i wasnt eating on my accord, and there i spent 2 weeks which were even more of a hell. Because now there were babies screaming during the day and night, i had both hospital staff and stafff from the psychiatric unit constantly watching me and i had a painful tube down my nose which nourished me. And i absaloutly hated that tube, all i wanted to do was rip it from my face as i knew that i was being fed roughly 3000kcal a day from the tube which then made me not eat anything from any of the meals placed infront of me. (I still had to try to follow my meal plan as well as the tube feeding).
 Each time my dad visited me he cried, each time my sister visited me she seemed shocked to see me and didnt know how to act. My mum tried to make things good for me, she brought me stuff to do and bought me new clothes or brought flowers to the hospital but i just lay in the bed and felt more and more distant. I had doctors and staff telling me that if i didnt begin eating i would be dead. They didnt know how to help me. 2 months had passed and i had just become worse, now i wasnt eating anything but before hand i could atleast manage a little food. My weight was only incresing because i was being tube fed, but they knew that i couldnt just be tube fed because the body also needs proper food and food which it can break down and digest. I found ways to self harm during those 2 months and whenever i was alone i would exercise as well as purge if i got to go to the bathroom on my own. I barely spoke during those 2 months, instead i was so stuck in my own head, in my own thoughts. But when i did speak i mentioned the fact that i wanted to die and that i had no future, and the doctors and staff tried to convince me that i would be ok but at the same time telling me that if i didnt change, death was not something i would choose but something i couldnt avoid.

My family knew i wasnt getting better, they knew that i wasnt getting the help i needed so my mum made the decision to move to Sweden with me. We werent planning on officially moving, just that i would get the help i needed. So after 2 weeks in Sweden i was admitted to Mando as an inpatient and the next 2 years were spent there with most of the time being an inpatient.

I was in a wheelchair for weeks at a time because my heart rate was so low and i wasnt allowed any activity, but that didnt stop me from exercising in my room or getting up to walk around whenever i could. However because they knew i struggled with an exercise addiction they were quick to put an activity monitor on me which i would have on for 3 days and it monitored how much activity i did during the days. I laugh at it now, because i always took the monitor off and then said "it wasnt working" and i also didnt care what the monitor said, i kept going with my exercise anyway, though the staff knew exactly what i was doing and kept trying to catch me in the act.
  While at Mando there could go days on end when i didnt have a single visitor or didnt get to see daylight. Instead when i wasnt eating or lying down resting after a meal i would stare at my computer screen. I did alot of writing while at Mando, i wrote anything from 3-12 pages (diary pages) a day while at Mando. I wrote my feelings, my thoughts, my suicide plans, my escape plans. I wrote how much i hated myself, how much i hated Mando, how much i hated food, how much i hated my body. I was angry all the time, angry at myself, angry at the world, angry at everything because i wished that everyone could leave me alone so that i could just continue with what i was doing and not have to feel all the anxiety and guilt all the time. But i know now that if people had just left me alone like i had wished, then i wouldnt be here now because i would have had heart failure or organ failure due to what i was putting my body through each day. I wouldnt have lasted, my body would have given up. So Mando was my saviour even if it took a year of treatment there to finally want to recover and even then it wasnt a smooth sail, but a relapse as well.

Why am i writing this? Because sometimes i cant believe that i had to sit in a wheel chair because my heart rate was so low, that i had to have activity monitors on me because i couldnt sit down or be still or because i had to have tube feeding because i refused to eat. It feels like so long ago, and it was long ago, 4-5 years ago. But at the same time, that is not that long ago... 25% of my life was spent sick and hating myself. 2,5 years of my life was spent in different treatment centres. 2 years of missed school due to my illnesses.

However, time passes and time heals all wounds. I can still get nightmares where i am locked back in Mando and screaming for help. I have times where i feel huge regret and guilt for what i put my family through and times i get angry at myself for wasting my life, but at the same time what i went through has made me who i am today. And i know that in some ways it has made my family stronger as well.

Instead of posting pictures from when i was ill and underweight, because there are so many of them in past posts i am just going to post a few from now, from a healthier and happier me. Memories might not completely fade, but they no longer control my life either. The pain and anger i experienced for so long has passed and the person i was before is not who I am today.


  1. This is a very honest and powerful post izzy thank you, although it is very sad and shows how much pain you were in it is also extremely encouraging as despite all that you got better and your pics at the end made me smile esp the cake one and the candles. I drew similarities with some of the things you had to experience, the wheelchair, the nasal tube, the exercise, self harm, the no help just stuck in 4 walls like a prisoner with no fresh air for months on end, it could go and my history of so called treatment centres if you can call them that are very bleak and the fact that i am still battling tells you they did little to help me but that won't stop me from trying to get better, yeah i have to do it on my own, and yeah that's tuff but you've given me hope and help and I'm so grateful for what you do for me i truly am so i want to thank you from the bottom of my heart. You are one tough lady but like you say those that suffer the most come out strongest x

    1. <3 <3 things will get better for you. Stay strong.