That Moment When an Eating Disorder Chick Collapses Into a Fridge

Hello. Hi. Welcome. Thanks for clicking on my hopefully witty and catching headline. My name is Rhiannan. I am a wife and mother, advocate, student, consistently mentally unstable (just enough to keep it interesting) as well as a mostly recovered anorexic and bulimic.

This is a little different to what I have previously posted on here, maybe you’ve read some of my poetry or maybe this is the first post of mine you’ve clicked on. Either way, thank you.

I have struggled with the she-devils affectionately named Ana and Mia for the better part of a decade. From the day of my initial diagnosis I have always wanted to share my story, but have consistently been doubtful as to whether or not it could be, or rather would be beneficial to either myself or others who may be able to relate. Since becoming both a wife and a mother I am much stronger than my demons and often have the thought of ‘I wish I could be the woman I needed, the person who uses their experiences to make a ripple effect of impact on those around me, to help breaking down stigmas of mental health, especially eating disorders and hopefully at least give one person a relatable giggle.

Before I dive into all the nitty gritty details, I have a twisted sense of humour, and use it as a defence mechanism, and prefer to “throw the first punch” in a humorous self-deprecating way. This story is probably the catalyst to a lot mental health “issues” so I feel it’s important to start here.

My ED exploded in 2010 at the age of 14, however in retrospect, a part of me feels as it was a ticking timebomb. Let me paint a picture for you; I have Cerebral Palsy, a physical disability which I obtained through an acquired brain injury from birth. I’m extremely lucky that this disability has manifested mildly in a physical only capacity. However, I was still subject to bullying all through primary and high school. This disability combined with being my mother’s daughter meant that physical activity, competitive or otherwise was not my friend.

My disability also causes low muscle tone, especially my core so I have always had a little bit of a “saggy” tummy.

It is probably also worth mentioning that on top of this I wore, (and still do) glasses, I was incredibly short and chubby, intelligent as well as outspoken. Basically I have always been simultaneously too much, yet never enough of something.

After having dealt with bullying all through Primary School, I was so excited for 2008 to come to an end, to leave those people, and that girl behind, give myself a fresh start, a fresh story and live my best life. I was finishing my final year at Primary School and counting down the days like no tomorrow. 2008 was also the year my Grandfather died, to say this broke me was an understatement. I promise this tangent is relevant to the story, so stick with me.

Over the Christmas break of 2008/2009 my fabulous hormones has worked their magic and I went from a size 14/16 on my tiny 145cm frame and went down to a 10/12 without doing anything. It was amazing! And for the first time I began to feel beautiful, everyone around me was complimenting me, and to make things even better within the first few weeks of school I lost even more weight without lifting a finger. I thought, “Yes! How good?!”

In short 2009 became the year that I lost weight and was finally skinny, I started Highschool, met my Best Friends, (who 10 years later were my bridesmaids #friendshipgoals), This was also the year I had my first experienced how dangerous my own innocence and naivety was. This was something I wouldn’t fully acknowledge or comprehend until I was much much older. Again, I promise this is all relevant.

Flash forward to the beginning of 2010, I am in year nine, and I end up in a practical only HPE class. While I knew I would never perfect a spike, or be the best in the class, I knew that I could be the best at warm ups i.e. Running laps, and calisthenics. During this time, I was undertaking several extra circular activities, advanced subjects, maintaining straight A’s, and volunteer work. Saying that my plate was full was an understatement. Behind the scenes of my academic achievement I unfortunately fell victim to grooming from a teacher, whom I looked up to and idolised. I was lucky enough that nothing more that emotional trauma occurred, but it was still a source of stress, guilt and a ton of other things that no one, especially a child should ever have to experience. As I mentioned above, this wasn’t something that I was fully prepared to acknowledge or actually deal with.

At this point, I felt that things were beginning to spiral. I was spending more and more time avoiding my friends, I was studying through lunch times, in the library to maintain my grades and somehow consistently getting myself in a classroom alone with my teacher, resulting in endless anxiety about my own feelings, and what kind of person this situation made me as he was married with children. (PSA: IT IS NEVER YOUR FAULT IF YOU ARE IN A SITUATION OF MANIPULATION. NEVER. ESPECIALLY IF YOU ARE A CHILD).

Moving on, I began walking home from school to help myself debrief and as part of my self-assigned homework, I would complete, at minimum 3 x 10 of Pushups, Situps, Squats and Lunges to help improve my “warm up” ability in my HPE class. This ‘homework’ then became part of both my morning and night time routine. My nights became more and more restless, which lead to more exercise in an attempt to wind down. My early mornings became filled with adventures on spin bikes as well as walking to school. It was pure insanity, in an attempt to remain sane.

Even after all this time, I firmly maintain that this was never about weight loss, as that happened long before this manifested, I don’t even think it was about control. I know that my obsession with exercise started off as an overachievers dedication to academic excellence, a confused girls way of burning up restless energy and guilt; a distraction from the more sinister things going on in the background. For a short period of time I continued to eat. I still laugh on the fact I ended up not eating at all as food is, and always will be, my love language. However, the more committed to academic excellence the more I withdrew and the less I began to eat. My daily smoothie slowly transitioned from being made on skim milk, to almond to simply water and fruit. My lunch was often shared among my friends as they all adored my Mums cooking (and yes to this day I still harbour massive guilt and regret over not eating this food and acknowledged how hurtful this was to my Mum considering the effort she put into my lunches), or dumped in a public bin on the way to or from school on my walk, (again, sorry Mum). Then there was that time I thought it was a smart idea to hoard the food in my room, (yeah look I don’t know either, and Mum, if you’re reading this, remember you have already punished me for this.). As my daily intake of food decreased I somehow managed to increase my daily activity. I still remember my classmates complimenting me on my discipline and organisation. It was awesome to be seen as something, or someone to aspire to be.

In the space of the 2010 school year finishing in November and passing PE with a respectable B and the 23rd December, I had managed to bring my already small frame down to 37kg. I was no longer sleeping, or eating anything more than a yogurt and moving my fork around my dinner plate enough to simulate actual eating. Whenever I was in a social situation, I searched out the calories in a meal, I planned what workouts I would need to do to achieve a ‘negative calorie’ day, and ensured that I only consumed enough food to make everyone else around me, besides my Mum convinced I was okay, and that she was the crazy one (again, I cannot express my embarrassment at doing this to my Mum, and if you’re still reading, please go and call your Mum and just say sorry. Doesn’t matter what for. Just do it.)

My bones were practically piercing through the brittle grey sandpaper that was masquerading as my skin, my hair was falling out and my period had become almost non-existent.

I now cringe at all of this, especially being a parent, about what this must’ve been like for my Mum to watch a piece of her heart slowly destroy herself.

The turning point for all this madness was the 23rd of December. I was unwell, again with a chest infection. Mum and I had been arguing about my weight and I was already due to go to the Doctors. I had decided to have a steaming hot shower, I still remember getting out, and grabbing my favourite purple towel and wrapping myself up, intentionally avoiding my own reflection. I was feeling slightly shaky and decided I needed some water. I opened the door to our fridge and grabbed the green glass bottle that sat at the front on the top shelf. Suddenly everything went black and white, the bottle slipped from my frail hands, the collision of everything was deafening. I woke up after what felt like a lifetime on the kitchen floor, in my towel, cold water around me and my Mum yelling.

This was the moment where my ‘lifeline’ of sorts had become the noose around my neck, or more specially my waist.

This was the moment when the chick with an eating disorder collapsed into a fridge. My mostly recovered self still finds the irony in this hilarious. Completely eating disorder immersed me found the irony in this hilarious. It was definitely something I held on, and still to this day, use to dismiss the seriousness of my condition as well as the potential fatality it had. I often use this as the drunk fun fact I drop before fisting my own mouth (no gag reflex thanks to Bulimia). I’m also pretty sure that at one stage I managed to work “that moment when the eating disorder chick falls into a fridge” as a hook in my Tinder Bio. I will not confirm no deny if it was successful.

Despite my nonchalant humour, this was still a terrifying moment. It would be something that would become a catalyst to so many other things in my life. Good and bad.

I still remember walking into the doctors room, and I will be forever grateful for the bluntness of my GP. Even now, whenever I feel disordered thoughts coming to the forefront, I can still hear him calling me an idiot and telling me that I was ‘far too smart’ for this behaviour. He gave me an ultimatum, knowing how much I loved school, I was told that I had to gain and maintain a minimum of 3kg before school started again, otherwise he would have no option to admit me. To this day, I have never been admitted due to my disorder and I am so thankful for that.

The rest of the appointment was a blur. I was given meal plans, and diaries and weekly appointments and goals. I still remember how embarrassing and shameful it was to have the words said to me, to realise that I let something so simple take such control on my life.

That Christmas was terrifying, however I soldiered on and ate as much as I could and resisted the urge to exercise. In a few weeks, I was allowed to visit one of my friends, she had found out about my diagnosis and “situation’ and she insisted we do a fashion show and take too many photos. She then proceeded to upload these photos and add them to her intervention PowerPoint she made me which basically was in short, her telling me that she loved me and didn’t want me to die. This was probably the first time I saw myself, since I had lost myself. I was so upset to see the shell of a person I had become. She called it a “Falling Into the fridge-ervention”. She also fed me creamy potatoes like it was going out of fashion. I firmly believe it wasn’t for her, I wouldn’t be where I am now. I am also so incredibly lucky to say that his human is still in my life, was a bridesmaid at my wedding and Godmother to my son.

Through the school holidays I managed to gain and maintain the 3kg minimum and was able to return to school. However, I was no where near the girl I used to be. My first day back, so many people questioned my appearance and my best friend in shining armour politely told anyone who questioned me that I got food poisoning over Christmas and to leave me alone. Again, I am forever thankful for this beautiful friend.

I eventually managed to be the minimum “healthy” weight for my height, however as we all know, the regain is only half the battle.

The next few years consisted of back and forth behaviour, a vicious circle of restricting, then binging out of panic of collapsing back into the fridge and either a combination of purging and exercising in an effort to feel less guilty. I consistently struggled to find the balance between mind movement and intuitive eating. I found myself falling down the rabbit hole of the “AnaMia” online community. I am so thankful for online platforms like the Butterfly Foundation who are constantly helping to stop these communities.

Through my eating disorder recovery, I was diagnosed with depression and anxiety. It was a vicious circle and something I still battle every day. For the next five years or so, I maintained a facade of recovery, however I realised I constantly put myself in situations to let my disordered habits weave their way into my life. My chosen career was Hospitality, which is known for being a faced paced and physically active industry, where waitstaff survive long days on coffee, mints and whatever scraps they can get from flirting with the Chefs. I guess you can imagine where this went. I never once got the point of fridge fainting, but I know I came close. I also went through a stage of working remote live in. This meant I was away from the watchful eye of my friends and family, giving my habits even more of license to run wild.

Every time I felt them taking over, I walked a dangerous middle ground to appease the demons in my head and the angels in my life.

I can honestly say that my real and honest attempt at recovery began on the 24th February 2018, the day I met my now Husband. I realised in the moment that for my own sanity as well as his, and our future I needed to stop. Well and truly, and he helped me to realise I was stronger than my weaknesses. This attempt became even more essential on the 31st December 2019, the day I found out I was pregnant with our son. The minute I saw that positive, I realised my life and my actions were no longer about me, that there was this tiny little human who was relying on me for everything, whose well being I was responsible for. I realised that our child needed a mother who could look after herself as well as him, he needed someone who would be around, someone who had the energy to raise them. In that moment I also realised why my disordered eating had angered and hurt my Mum so much, it broke my heart to think that there could be chance that this tiny little human inside me, who I would protect and lay down my life for may end up placing their worth in a number. This was not behaviour I wanted my son to think was normal or acceptable. Plus. the constant nausea from low blood sugar and hunger helped with ensuring that I ate. I guess I asked myself the question who needed me more, those voices in my head, or the tiny human in my belly.

The journey of navigating a decade of disordered eating with feelings of post-partum anxiety and depression as well as the hustle and bustle of motherhood is a challenge, and there are some days where I do survive off a cup of tea which has spent more time in a microwave than on my coaster, and a couple of baby crackers, but at least now I am prepared to have the open and honest conversation with my Husband and support network about this, and am proactive in trying to end this cycle.

If you’ve managed to make it through to the end of my ramble I applaud and thank you. I also want to leave you with this.

Nothing and I mean nothing, ever feels as good as true happiness and freedom, Remember you are stronger than your bad days. You’re never alone, ever. Lastly it’s never your fault that someone attempts to exploit your good nature and vulnerability.

If you have been affected by anything mentioned in this story, please talk to someone or reach out to your GP or the following support networks.

• https://thebutterflyfoundation.org.au/

• https://www.beyondblue.org.au/get-support/national-help-lines-and-websites

• https://headspace.org.au/

• https://eatingdisordersqueensland.org.au/

• https://au.reachout.com/articles/support-services-for-eating-disorders