It started when she was about nine years old. She told me she was fat and ugly. I was stunned; she was a gorgeous but skinny child. Being a great believer in positive thinking, I took her to stand in front of a full-length mirror and asked her to say "I am beautiful just the way I am" several times.
That's when she said it started, 'the voice' telling her I was lying and that what I said was not true. The voice in her head said she was fat and ugly, as well as lots of other horrible things, so horrible that she would never repeat them to me.
She would insist she was fatter than her twin sister, who though slender, was a healthy weight for her age. She thought at the age of fourteen it was an achievement to be able to put her hands around her waist and have her fingers meet.
On one occasion, not believing what she was hearing, a friend took a piece of string and put it around her waist, then repeated the process with her twin. The string showed that her waist was two inches smaller than her sister's; but she looked at the string and would not believe what it showed.
I did not know about the voice then, and did not understand what was going on.
Looking back she had always been a picky eater. Once, when she was five years old, we were going to have lamb for dinner. When she realised that this lamb was the same as the ones playing in the field opposite our house, she put her hands over her face in horror and instantly became a vegetarian. That would have been okay, but then more and more foods were not to her taste, and she would only eat a very restricted diet. Then her symptoms got worse. She did not like people watching her eat, and eventually would only eat if she could take food up to her room. She would draw the curtains so that nobody driving down the narrow country lane outside our house could look into her room and see her eating. There was no logical way they could see in, but I could not persuade her of that. I wanted her to eat with the family and there were intense arguments about the fact that she wanted to do this. Finally in desperation I let her eat in her room rather than have her not eat at all.
She stayed in bed a lot, her mood was low, and she was very irritable. Her relationships with friends and family began to suffer. Her 'friends' stopped getting in touch. She would see her sister getting ready to go out with the former friends who no longer contacted her and would turn her face to the wall crying.
Yet, no matter how many people - including myself - spoke to her about her weight, she would not acknowledge that she had a problem.
By now, I was certain that she was anorexic. I was very worried about her, and the more I read about eating disorders, the more my concern increased. Anorexia has a twenty per cent mortality rate, the highest of any mental illness. There was a real possibility my daughter could die if she did not get the help she needed.
Eventually she agreed to see and see the doctor. I got the feeling that this was more to keep my quiet, than any acknowledgment of the fact she had a problem. At the appointment her height and weight were recorded and the doctor told her body mass index (BMI) was very low and she was in danger of damaging her health. The doctor referred her to the Children and Adolescent Mental Health Service (CAHMS). After the appointment she steadfastly refused to acknowledge that the doctor had told her she had a low BMI. This level of denial made me very anxious, as it seemed that in her head she was determined to be normal no matter what the evidence. I could understand her refusing to believe me, thinking that her mother was fussing too much, but to totally deny what the doctor had said took the problem to another level.
We waited months for an appointment from CAHMS; I was so relieved when it came through. She was then assessed by a Clinical Psychologist, who said nothing was wrong! I was incredulous. There clearly was something seriously wrong - any lay person could see that.
This added to the problem, because she would now say, "See, mummy, I told you there was nothing wrong. The Psychologist said so." It meant that her denial of her condition had been falsely vindicated. I was extremely worried, I had exhausted all the avenues that were open to me. In addition to that the incompetence of CAHMS had validated her belief that she was normal and therefore she was at even more risk from this devastating illness.
I wrote to my MP and put in a formal complaint, but nothing got immediate results or got my daughter the treatment she so clearly needed.
I was then told about a local charity that supported people with eating disorders. They would only see people from the age of fourteen, and she had to be ready to acknowledge her problem. She was thirteen and I was in a horrifying limbo, with no money to get help privately and a teenage daughter who would not admit she had a problem.
Then disaster struck. I was diagnosed with breast cancer. As a lone parent with no family support, the pressure on my small family was enormous. I had three operations, a double mastectomy and reconstructive surgery, and was not allowed to lift more than a cup of tea for two weeks or to do housework for six. We were looked after by Social Services, who put carers into the home to cook and do light housework. In all this chaos, friends did what they could to help, but many lived miles away and my daughters did not have enough support. They knew that if I died, they would go into care. This was a great worry to them and torture for me. I was terrified of leaving them without adequate support to get through their young adult years and they were afraid of being split up if they were put into care. Added to this, we lived in a country village with no bus service, so they were isolated at home with a sick mother and they were doing their GCSEs.
Not surprisingly, her anorexia got worse. Then one day in the kitchen, she said,
"It's not normal to hear a voice in your head, is it mummy?" My heart turned ice cold.
"No, love, it's not. Do you hear a voice in your head?"
"Yes. Does it mean I am mad, mummy?"
"It means something is wrong, but I don't think you are mad."
My daughter was now sixteen and finally, she agreed to go to the charity. The voice had been talking to her since she was nine; it had taken her seven years to talk about it. She was assessed her and started a weekly counselling program. This is when she learned about the anorexic voice. This is an internal voice that is common in people who suffer from an eating disorder and body dysmorphic disorder. The voice is cruel and critical, saying nasty demeaning things to the sufferer; it tries to control them and their eating, telling them they are not good enough or thin enough. It is possible for sufferers to gain control of this voice, but it can take a long time. Stress and tiredness tend to allow the voice to get stronger. Seven years is the average length of time it takes to recover from anorexia.
The counselling enabled my daughter to do her A-levels and get to university. She is now in a good treatment programme in Leicestershire, and continues to recover slowly. She is writing a blog to raise awareness of eating disorders.
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