By Xuan //
Four years ago, I was diagnosed with anorexia nervosa. This left a dent on my almost-perfect life. For 16 years, I had been working towards the goals of being the perfect daughter at home and the perfect student in school.
What everyone did not know was the challenges living up to that (self-imposed) expectation. I lived like a duck: while seemingly calm above the waters, I was peddling desperately beneath to stay afloat. This was especially so in the months leading up to the diagnosis. Due to my declining energy level and susceptibility to even the slightest cold, I shuffled between school and doctors.
As my physical health deteriorated, my mental health suffered. My mind was constantly preoccupied with food and whether I had had sufficient exercise for that day. I recalled intentionally distancing myself from my closet friends. The “I’m fine”, uttered with slight annoyance in response to every and any concern. built an impenetrable wall alienating me from everyone. Although I would be lying if I said I did not crave attention, this was not the sort of attention I wanted. For the first time in my life, all I wanted was to be left alone and treated as if I were invisible.
Then came the mandatory school checkup. After being marked as ‘severely underweight’, I was referred to the polyclinic where the doctor arranged an expedited appointment with a pediatrician. The day of the appointment coincided with my oral examination. I recalled travelling by train and walking quite a distance before reaching the clinic. Little did I know that was the last trip I would take for the next few weeks.
After running a series of tests, the doctor requested a private session with my mum. I did not need a formal diagnosis to ascertain my problem. Instead, I was in a denial, insisting that I was not thin enough to ‘qualify’ and possibly have recovered from the months of shuffling between clinics. As such, my only concern was to leave the hospital immediately and try to make it in time for my exam. After what seemed like an eternity, the consultation ended. In my mum’s eyes, I saw confusion and apprehension. Despite these feelings, she greeted me with a comforting smile. This pretense weighed down on me. It also dawned upon me that I had failed as the perfect daughter.
Everything that happened next was agonising. I was deprived of my freedom of movement, including going to school, walking, and even showering. Determined to return to school, I psyched myself up into being the most cooperative patient so I could be discharged soon. Certainly, I had overestimated my abilities. If losing this freedom was gruelling enough, I was forced to relinquish all control over my diet. Control was what anchored my entire life. Without it, I felt I was reduced to an infant incapable of making simple decisions for myself. The first few nights were exceptionally painful. For one who could barely recall when she last cried, those night tears was my companion through the lonely nights.
//The period of recovery was one of the darkest periods of my life. As much as I hated being controlled, I complied as I was determined not to burden my family, financially or emotionally. The last thing I wanted was to be an extra burden. Although this was not the most ideal motivation, it got me through.//
While being stuck in the hospital, I was given the luxury of time to reflect. Although I have yet to uncover the underlying cause of my eating disorder, I consider this episode my form of rebellion against societal and self-imposed expectations. From my academic and non-academic aspirations to beauty standards, my perception of perfection has always been set by others. For 16 years, I had never truly lived. My fear of meeting or failing to meet expectations had defined my life.
Four years on, I would still not comfortably declare myself completely recovered. The little monster pops up every now and then and it is not every time that I win. In any case, the dark phase would certainly not be just a thing of the past. Even as my body heals and the scars on my wrists fade, the invisible markings served as a permanent reminder and caution to never come back to this.
To my future self and anyone in a similar situation: Life is challenging and will always be. There are always other alternatives to seek the respite we crave. We are stronger beyond our imagination. Hurting ourselves only pains us and those we love. For girls who are facing what I have been through, I encourage you to embark on recovery no matter how hard the journey might be. Remember, we deserve to be loved unconditionally. Even if no one is giving us this love, we give it to ourselves.
Xuan is an undergraduate from a local university. She was diagnosed with an eating disorder in Secondary Four and in recovery ever since. Recovery is one of the toughest but best decisions she has ever made. She believes that recovery is an ongoing journey and hopes her story can empower girls to realise their self-worth and not let themselves be defined by others.
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