Myth: Anorexia is Just an Extreme Diet

By Anonymous

“It doesn’t look like an anorexic lives in this house by the looks of this refrigerator.”

This is what a family member said to me while at our house for a visit during my daughter’s descent into the complicated, confusing and terrifying illness of anorexia.

And while I knew that these words were being said out of love — and an attempt to lighten the mood — they floored me. Yes, our fridge was packed with food. Our cupboards were packed with food. The garage was packed with snacks and the deep freezer in the basement was packed with frozen meals. Yet, we were in a desperate place. We were overflowing with food, and yet, we had a child who was not eating enough to sustain her development. 

I knew what she really meant, of course: “It doesn’t look like someone on a diet lives in this house.” I knew that this person really had no idea of the trauma we were all living through. And that made me feel so alone.

Parents naturally will try to do whatever they need to do to help their child be safe and healthy. We knew our child was ill, but we didn’t know yet how to best help her. We just knew she wasn’t properly nourishing herself and we were trying anything to get whatever nutrition we could into her rapidly diminishing body. First, we were trying to make sure that we were stocked with the few, very specific food items that my daughter believed were acceptable. With anorexia, however, that narrow definition of what was acceptable kept getting smaller. So, every day I ran to the grocery store to pick up whatever was next, whatever she said she would eat.

I had multiple panic attacks in the aisle of the grocery store, like the time the specific flavour of the one brand of yogurt she would eat was out of stock, or when supply-chain issues took away some ingredients of a meal she had deemed acceptable. My trips to our local grocery store turned into trips to many grocery stores as I was on a constant search for food my child would eat. Plus, I would sometimes purposefully drive to a store farther away from my home just so I could hopefully avoid having a panic attack while my neighbours, or a parent from my child’s school, watched.

My daughter’s rules and limitations expanded beyond just ingredients, but also bled into things like leftovers. Once we determined a meal she would eat, I would try to make more of it the next time to have extra. I would find room in my already bulging refrigerator for containers of leftovers. But then the voices in her head decided that leftovers were not acceptable. The circle of this unique funnel into illness seemed to be constantly getting tighter — and more confusing.

With all the food in our house, we certainly didn’t look like a home with someone ‘on a diet’. But then my daughter was not on a diet, of course. She was ill. She was struggling with a mental illness, not just trying to follow some stupid social media dietary advice. She was not trying not to eat. In fact, she was trying really hard to eat. It was just that the noise in her head was so loud and so destructive that she was having trouble feeling safe eating. We wanted her to feel safe eating. So, we made sure we had food for her. We had every possible type of food for her. 

Anorexia is not a diet. It is not a desire not to eat. It is a disorder of eating. It is a terrifying loss of control around a normal bodily function, one that is absolutely necessary for survival. It is frightening for the person who has it and agonising for those who love them.

Anorexia takes time to treat, and time to recover from, and lots and lots of education and understanding. My family’s journey into this illness has just begun. I still have lots to learn. I still don’t know how to best help my daughter, but I know I am going to keep trying.

One thing I have learned, though, is that people do not understand this disease, and what many people think they know is wrong. Very, very wrong. And, unfortunately, often inadvertently hurtful. More research on the causes of the disease and for evidence-based treatments is needed and more lived experiences must be shared.

I share my family’s story in solidarity with others who find themselves on this unexpected and dangerous path. We are walking it together and you are not alone. I hope it strengthens others’ resolve to keep working towards recovery. We will get there.