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To hell and back: appetite for life regained
Kate Benson Medical Reporter
July 26, 2008
IT'S been six months since Lucy Howard-Taylor wished she was dead. For almost four years, the demons of anorexia nervosa rode on her back, convincing her she was worthless, unattractive, dull and unnecessary in the wider scheme of life.
"I had some very poisonous conversations with my anorexic demon," she says as she recalls her descent into hell with a compelling combination of fragility and strength.
Howard-Taylor, 19, seems an unlikely hero in the war against eating disorders, but her new book, Biting Anorexia, is being hailed by experts as one of the "most stunning" ever written on the subject.
It is the only memoir written by a recovered anorexic to be endorsed by the Eating Disorders Foundation of NSW because it refuses to glamorise the disorder, highlighting instead the inner turmoil, loneliness and quiet desperation behind the denial of food. "Usually I have nothing to do with these kinds of books because they can be damaging to sufferers, but as soon as I read this, I thought this will change lives," the group's founder, Amanda Jordan, said yesterday.
"It captures the pain of the disorder, the loneliness, the loss of self and the primitive guilt that parents often carry. It exhibits none of the nostalgia that many former anorexics have for their illness."
Nor does it contain any mention of body weight or weight loss, to stop sufferers comparing themselves with the author.
"You can't catch anorexia by reading books, but an anorexic will have no peace of mind until they have bettered someone else's weight," Ms Jordan said.
For Howard-Taylor, publicly putting pen to paper on such a personal topic was painful and draining, "but I felt it was my duty to help any other boys and girls to find their way to the light".
That light was obscured for most of her teens by binge eating, vomiting, constipation, aching bones, exhaustion and depression amid relentless bouts of self-doubt, self-hatred and self-obsession. In her darker moments, she danced with suicide. On better days, she feared failing at school and never finding love. But she knows she is one of the lucky ones.
Anorexia nervosa is the most lethal of all mental illnesses. One in 33 people will suffer from it and one-fifth of those will die from starvation, cardiac failure or suicide. About 3800 people are diagnosed each year and the average time between diagnosis and recovery is seven years, often including long periods of hospitalisation or intense outpatient therapy from a stream of clinicians.
But the disorder is still often considered to be the domain of vain teenagers, battered by images of rake-thin models in glossy magazines, an assumption that frustrates Howard-Taylor.
"Anorexia is not about food, and it is disturbing that so many people still know so little about such an extraordinarily dangerous illness. The fact that what we are dealing with is not so simple, but instead horribly complicated, is mostly bypassed."
Those susceptible to developing the disorder usually have low self-esteem, a need to seek the approval of others, difficulties experiencing and expressing feelings, social anxiety, rigid thought patterns and a drive for perfection. Food simply provides the tool for self-flagellation.
For Howard-Taylor, the punishing routine has stopped for now. She is at a normal weight, has found love, some self-acceptance and pleasure in sharing cinnamon toast and hot chocolate with a friend.
"I wouldn't use past tense when I talk about recovery just yet," she says. "But I am comfortably along the path. What I have learnt is that if you think having anorexia is hard, try getting better and then tell me which one takes the greater show of strength."
Kate Benson Medical Reporter
July 26, 2008
IT'S been six months since Lucy Howard-Taylor wished she was dead. For almost four years, the demons of anorexia nervosa rode on her back, convincing her she was worthless, unattractive, dull and unnecessary in the wider scheme of life.
"I had some very poisonous conversations with my anorexic demon," she says as she recalls her descent into hell with a compelling combination of fragility and strength.
Howard-Taylor, 19, seems an unlikely hero in the war against eating disorders, but her new book, Biting Anorexia, is being hailed by experts as one of the "most stunning" ever written on the subject.
It is the only memoir written by a recovered anorexic to be endorsed by the Eating Disorders Foundation of NSW because it refuses to glamorise the disorder, highlighting instead the inner turmoil, loneliness and quiet desperation behind the denial of food. "Usually I have nothing to do with these kinds of books because they can be damaging to sufferers, but as soon as I read this, I thought this will change lives," the group's founder, Amanda Jordan, said yesterday.
"It captures the pain of the disorder, the loneliness, the loss of self and the primitive guilt that parents often carry. It exhibits none of the nostalgia that many former anorexics have for their illness."
Nor does it contain any mention of body weight or weight loss, to stop sufferers comparing themselves with the author.
"You can't catch anorexia by reading books, but an anorexic will have no peace of mind until they have bettered someone else's weight," Ms Jordan said.
For Howard-Taylor, publicly putting pen to paper on such a personal topic was painful and draining, "but I felt it was my duty to help any other boys and girls to find their way to the light".
That light was obscured for most of her teens by binge eating, vomiting, constipation, aching bones, exhaustion and depression amid relentless bouts of self-doubt, self-hatred and self-obsession. In her darker moments, she danced with suicide. On better days, she feared failing at school and never finding love. But she knows she is one of the lucky ones.
Anorexia nervosa is the most lethal of all mental illnesses. One in 33 people will suffer from it and one-fifth of those will die from starvation, cardiac failure or suicide. About 3800 people are diagnosed each year and the average time between diagnosis and recovery is seven years, often including long periods of hospitalisation or intense outpatient therapy from a stream of clinicians.
But the disorder is still often considered to be the domain of vain teenagers, battered by images of rake-thin models in glossy magazines, an assumption that frustrates Howard-Taylor.
"Anorexia is not about food, and it is disturbing that so many people still know so little about such an extraordinarily dangerous illness. The fact that what we are dealing with is not so simple, but instead horribly complicated, is mostly bypassed."
Those susceptible to developing the disorder usually have low self-esteem, a need to seek the approval of others, difficulties experiencing and expressing feelings, social anxiety, rigid thought patterns and a drive for perfection. Food simply provides the tool for self-flagellation.
For Howard-Taylor, the punishing routine has stopped for now. She is at a normal weight, has found love, some self-acceptance and pleasure in sharing cinnamon toast and hot chocolate with a friend.
"I wouldn't use past tense when I talk about recovery just yet," she says. "But I am comfortably along the path. What I have learnt is that if you think having anorexia is hard, try getting better and then tell me which one takes the greater show of strength."
