If you’ve ever heard or held the opinion that eating disorders are attention seeking, you probably wouldn’t be alone. But you can leave that thought at the door. To those in the know, it is widely accepted that living with an eating disorder is a mercilessly lonely place. Ironically for me, mine began as a way to deal with loneliness. It’s a feeling I have struggled with ever since I can remember, but when a few major changes in my life brought it to the forefront of everything, I found something that finally kept me company.

At first it served as a distraction and a friend to get me through difficult times, but the closer I got to anorexia, the more I isolated myself from other things. I started saying no to seeing people in fear that I might be expected or forced to eat. All my time was spent walking to and from gyms, spending hours a day alone, exercising.

Every day was spent religiously clockwatching, waiting until I would allow myself to eat, or when I could go to bed, only to wake up and start the same monotonous routine all over again.

When habits and behaviors got worse, I avoided people so that they wouldn’t notice any changes. I could feel my personality fading, my temper shortening, and energy dwindling. Filled with shame, I didn’t want to be around people – not just because I was afraid to eat, but because I was afraid they would see me for who I had become.

What started as a way to combat loneliness turned into the loneliest I had ever been.

Thankfully, I had people around me who were patient, stuck by my side and who had the strength to confront what was happening when I didn’t.

After diagnosis, I dove headfirst into what I believed to be recovery through the communities I found online. However, with hindsight I can look back and see this only served to cement my eating disorder further. I genuinely believe there are well-intentioned and helpful people out there, but in the mindset, I was in, all I saw was competition and encouragement. Comparing my ‘symptoms’ to others and developing new ones to further prove how unwell I was. I spent hours consuming content online, wrapping myself up in what I thought was a recovery community, not realising I was falling deeper into a life trapped by anorexia.

It was only when I – alone – decided enough was enough and it was time to recover, that community really started to serve rather than hinder me. The support of my friends and family was finally seen as kindness and not a threat.

I signed up to group therapy in a day patient center, which I now see as the pivotal turning point in my recovery. It may not be for everyone, and I have to acknowledge the incredible privilege I had being able to access private treatment. However, meeting a group of other women who were going through similar journeys was life changing. We comforted each other, learned from one another and called each other out when we needed to. The opportunity to watch others make my same mistakes, my same misinformed decisions, and play out the same narrative that was in my head, highlighted the irrationality of it all. Almost a surreal out of body experience, it helped me to see and understand what the people closest to me were feeling.

I am eternally grateful to the people I met during that treatment, but there was still something missing. Although the support was incredible and I truly was starting to recover, I still couldn’t see a real, permanent way out. At this point, First Steps’ befriending service was exactly what I needed. Having someone to talk to who had not only been through similar things, but who had also come out the other side, was invaluable. It finally gave me hope and the belief that one day I could learn to live normally again. I am now a befriender myself, and the full circle moment of being able to offer to others what was so useful to me, is fulfilling in a way I could never express.

On the other side of this whole journey, I now live a very happy life, surrounded by people I love. Anorexia fractured and even ended some of my closest relationships. But through these experiences, I also grew closer to those I already knew and made new, strong connections. My communication and honesty have improved and I’m glad to say those feelings of loneliness are few and far between. Community in recovery is vital, but it is you and only you who can decide to recover. It was only once I decided to give myself a chance, that I owed it to myself to try for something better, that community became beneficial rather than detrimental.

No one going through an eating disorder is alone, but maybe you need to be. Take time to step back, evaluate what you truly want, believe and deserve, then reach out when you’re ready. Don’t get caught up competing with those in similar situations or making all the right noises and actions to pacify those around you who aren’t.

You’d think after five years of many different types of therapy, talking about my mental health in all its manifestations, that I’d be comfortable telling my story. But there’s still words I struggle to say aloud, or situations where I don’t want to share my experiences. I believe in privacy, but I also believe in connection. Everyone who I have opened up to has empathised in some way with the feelings that underpinned my eating disorder. Not once have I encountered judgment or shame.

The journey I am on now is one of acceptance. Anorexia isn’t something I want to forget or leave behind. I want it to be a part of who I am just as much as my job, university, or holidays or any other memories are. I’m grateful for what I’ve learned, and proud of myself. I’m not alone, I never was, but now I don’t feel that way either.