From a very young age, I knew there was something different about me. It seemed to me that everyone around me was separate and I was encased in my own bubble, my own world and it frustrated me to tears that I couldn’t work out how to make that bubble pop. Soon, my bubble solidified. It became glass. It was suffocating and at times, my glass bubble would fill with water, drowning out the minute amounts of happiness, reason, and calm that I had left.
It’s a question I often ask myself. Should I be honest? Lay all my cards on the table? Do my closest friends and family need to know every little detail about my struggle? If I did tell them, would they even care? Or would they just give me the generic responses I’d heard my whole life? “Everyone feels like that”, “No one likes work, you just do it”, and the ever popular “Man up!” After all they probably have their own issues to deal with, right?
It is estimated that there are over 1.6 million people suffering from diagnosed or undiagnosed eating disorders throughout the UK. But the truth is, there will be thousands who don’t feel able to reach out for support. People who feel like they aren’t “sick enough”, “don’t look like they have an eating disorder” or are too embarrassed, because they don’t fit that “stereotypical eating disorder image” we all have in our heads.
My story starts two years ago; I was involved in quite a bad car crash. I passed my driving test when I was 19, drove for about a year and then sold my car and started driving again two years ago (I’m now 25). It took a lot of courage to start driving again. I got a new job, which I needed a car for and I was excited and full of confidence! I had the car a week when the accident happened - it felt like I lost all my confidence in a matter of seconds. The lady’s decision to pull out in front of me, across a dual carriageway, changed my life and it was beyond my control.