Functional but trapped

In the depths of an ED there is usually an inescapable knowing that you are struggling. Often others have noticed your behaviours and a difference in how you present (not just physically) and are worried about your wellbeing. In this state it is hard to deny that something needs to change. Things may have progressed to a state where you simply cannot function in life anymore. This is often the point that interventions are required and hospital stays become non-negotiable. This is when recovery becomes about survival. And this very often becomes the yardstick to determine whether support is warranted - the idea that you must be “sick enough” in order to deserve help. An unhelpful notion that aligns with the ED, which invalidates the severity of illness of so very many people.

In my opinion, the vast majority of people struggling with an ED are not in an acutely life-threatening physical state. They are competent, employed, engaged members of society who are very capable of leading a functional life. This does not mean that they aren’t in deep pain and missing out on the fullness of life. While they may be surviving, this is not the same as living. Because living is not simply the absence of death. 

In this functional state with an ED all of life is tarnished. There are hoops to jump through, rules to follow, behaviours to perform, invitations to decline, compensations to plan for. Life becomes an endless balancing act coupled with distressing cognitive dissonance. The growing disparity between the way that one presents to the outside world and the inner turmoil of the internal experience. The cost of this way of life cannot be underestimated. Relationships and connection suffer as energy is poured into maintaining the rules and behaviours, there isn’t enough physical energy or mental space to allow joy to be prioritised, remaining present in life is a constant challenge as the mind remains consumed by past and future behaviours and plans, confidence in your ability to self-support is impaired, there is a deep sense of inauthenticity as you struggle through each day maintaining the facade of “thriving”. Add to this the constant vigilance required to ensure a further decline doesn’t take place and the self-monitoring that is needed for maintenance. This is not an exhaustive list. This is skimming the surface of the excruciating reality of living a half life. 

If you are reading this and thinking “it’s not that bad” or “I’m so much better than I was” I would encourage you to think about how good it could be. Do you really want to settle for “not that bad” or do you want true freedom? The freedom to confidently choose how you live your life. To know that there are no hoops, there is no behind the scenes behaviours, there needs to be no compensation or conditions to make eating permissible. To be present in your own life and to build deep, authentic connections with people who matter. 

In this context, my belief is that the cost of the life that is not being lived is the yardstick by which urgency in recovery should be measured. The cost of that life is abundantly clear in the situation of imminent physical failure. But I would encourage you to consider the true cost of remaining functional but trapped. With that in mind, I hope you can see just how truly urgent recovery is. That without full and complete commitment to recovery, only more days, weeks and years of half living are added to the score board. How many of those do you want to look back on at the end of days? Recovery - and indeed urgent recovery - is not reserved for those with acutely visible illness. It is for anyone who feels that they are not living their fullest life due to the constraints of the mental cage that is an ED.