If Only I Knew
TW: Eating disorders
Athlete Alice Perkins opens up about her eating disorder and how running helped her recovery
When something has consumed your life for 6 years, you’d think it would be fairly easy to talk about. But, to put my journey into words renders me nearly speechless. Not because I don’t know what happened, but because I still don’t, and probably never truly will, fully understand why. I don’t want this to sound like a sob story, but at the same time, this journey has got me to where I am today.
I remember being taught in PE that ‘weight maintenance occurs when calories in = calories out.’ This simplistic view may have destroyed my outlook on life. Having been surrounded by diet culture growing up, maintaining weight seemed like the perfect way to deal with teenage anxieties and feel in control. It is only at the age of 26, and having done a few years of therapy on my own accord, that I can understand how such narratives and coping mechanisms became so damaging. If only I knew at the time how much information and understanding I was missing.
At the age of 15, I was diagnosed with Anorexia Nervosa without understanding the consequences of what that meant at the time. I didn’t understand how my behaviour had changed over the previous two months, but within three weeks of my diagnosis I was admitted into my first psychiatric hospital. That’s when I felt scared. I was surrounded by people from all over the county with a variety of mental health problems. I was away from my parents for the first time in my life and was being looked after by strangers.
“Recovery for me was about relearning to focus on myself and to rebuild the relationship that I had lost with both food and my body”
During that first hospital admission, I kept my head down and I did what I was told. The day I entered that hospital, the muscles in my lower body were too weak to hold me up as I attempted to walk from my desk in my room to the landing. My dad told me ‘You could be home in two weeks if you just ate’. That really wasn’t the case, and it was a month before I could even be considered able to take a day trip with my family. My brain was so malnourished that I did not have the capacity to take part in therapy sessions that I so desperately needed.
It may sound ironic, but I might have eaten the greatest cheesecake I have ever tasted whilst I was there, but I never could have admitted that. It was an oxymoron and none of the other girls who were around me would have appreciated that comment. To them I would not ‘have been sick enough’.
After four and a half months I was allowed home again. Going on holiday immediately was probably a terrible idea, however as a family, we did it anyway. At no surprise to anyone, my second hospital admission came less than 8 months later. I was admitted to a Specialist Eating Disorder Unit, over an hour away from home and it was there where I had managed to develop a greater understanding of what my illness was and was finally able to comprehend what was going on. I was finally willing to accept my recovery to some extent. During those 5 months, I gained an awful lot more knowledge and understanding about eating disorders, my health, and the impact on the people around me. I saw how much I wanted my independence again and was motivated by the idea of one day going to university.
Following my second hospital admission, I began to take up endurance running. To some people this sounded like the most INSANE idea on the planet, but the support staff and I agreed to specific terms surrounding my health that I had to maintain to continue participating and we saw this as a learning exercise and a therapeutic escape more than anything. If I could learn how to look after my body to succeed in my sport, then maybe that information would be able to pay off and translate to the rest of my life. There were an awful lot of relapses and unhealthy behaviours mixed in but if only they knew that sport was going to save my life.
It was within athletics that I was able to develop a stronger relationship with my body both physically and mentally. I was lucky that I looked at other athletes and saw how much my illness was limiting me. I used this as a massive piece of inspiration to remain on track; I would never be able to succeed in my sport if I was not able to fuel myself properly. It was during this period, in which I was a part of outpatient services, that I realised my illness was now hindering me more than it was helping me, not just in my athletic life but in my academic and social ones too. I refused to be transitioned from paediatric to adult services. If only I knew how important that revelation was.
Recovery for me was about relearning to focus on myself and to rebuild the relationship that I had lost with both food and my body. I learned tools to help not being so scared, and to prevent my emotions and thoughts that stemmed from my illness from being so overwhelming. I become more capable of remaining present and optimistic about the future. In no way was it a short journey, but if only I knew how worth it the journey would be and how important my health is, then maybe I would have started earlier.
I still compare myself to every other girl on the start line as well as to previous versions of myself and think ‘I wish I looked like that’. It is hard to look back at photos of yourself 10 years ago, seeing how small and unwell you were at the time and knowing that you felt invincible. I did not expect to still be feeling the effects of my eating disorder at the age of 26 and, rightly or wrongly, I blame it for the stress fracture that I got in the winter of last year. It is hard to stand here, knowing how much effort you put into looking after your body, trying to prevent the worst and it still breaking down in front of your eyes. If only I knew how long my illness would be affecting me even after I could call myself recovered.
If only I knew that Anorexia was not the only way of dealing with anxiety and depression. If only I knew that my illness would make me the person that I am today. If only I knew how much anorexia clouded my thinking about everything. If only I knew that I would have the opportunity to support other young people to make the same mistakes I did. If I only knew about the long-term implications of my illness.. If only I knew that therapy was a good thing, and my therapists were actually nice people. If only I knew that I was one day going to be happy again. If only I knew, I may not have made the same mistakes again.
