Mental Health: a little story
10 10 2019


It’s World Mental Health Day today (the 10th of October if reading retrospectively), and it’s a topic I am extraordinarily passionate about, because we all have mental health and we all have the propensity…as humans…to face mental health struggles at some point in our lives. In fact, the statistics say that the majority of us will suffer from some level of mental ill health at some point in our lives.


So as a ‘fu%^ you’ to the stigma that keeps so many of us struggling with mental health issues…silent…I’ve decided to tell my own story, one that I have not openly talked about online (in full ) to date. I guess partly for fear of judgment from peers and colleagues, but enough is enough. Our struggles are a part of us and in many ways shape who we become…for (hopefully) better and sometimes not so.


I am not sharing my story because I feel the need for validation or sympathy, and believe you and me, it’s in no way an uncommon story, but simply as a way of saying ‘yeah, me too, you’re not alone’. And also because I don’t wish to hide from my past anymore, I am not the same person, but those experiences have taught me so much and have (or so I like to think) shaped me into a better human, friend, daughter, sister, clinician…today.


Yep, having an eating disorder (anorexia to be exact – though I never managed to access the treatment that would’ve given me that formal ‘badge’) in my early teens was one of the most isolating, debilitating and devastating (to those around me) challenges that I’ve faced to date.


It destroyed my physical health (it’s taken over 10 years to recover my reproductive function – never again will I take menstruating for granted, that monthly period = body working, apologies if that’s a little too much to read, but hey ho!). It also wrecked havoc with my digestive function for years and years, even after being “weight restored”. And yeah, I am now that dietitian who also has IBS, and who gets how frustrating such issues can be.


It held me back emotionally, distanced me from others, diminished my ability to form close relationships with friends, to meet new people, find first loves…it paralysed me with social anxiety. Something that I still struggle with, at times.


It strained the relationships within my own family (never have I seen my parents so stressed… trying tirelessly to support me the entire time, whilst the voices in my head and that reflection in the mirror, forced me to push so strongly against them!)


It made me question my role on this earth…during the lowest points culminating in thoughts and desires of not wanting to be here, not wanting to live…anymore. These are the scariest moments to reflect on, that the hatred I had for myself made me truly question my desire to continue living.


I now know upon careful reflection over the years since (and yes I likely need therapy to still process a lot of this shit, though it’s a rather expensive commitment to access such services reliably in the UK!), that what guided me back onto the path of choosing to live (and recover) was primarily because I could not face the hurt that I, that IT, was causing to others (surprise surprise I am still a people pleaser!) around me (most especially my family). I also knew that if I wanted to ever work in science/medicine/healthcare/nutrition, then I needed to be ‘well enough’ to help others, and to be able to study/complete the relevant degrees without further compromising my own physical and mental health.


It’s important for me to also acknowledge that I was an average, middle classed, straight sized, relatively privileged young adolescent with supportive, loving parents and siblings…a good education, a supportive food and body image environment… a.k.a ‘a comfortable upbringing’. A dedicated ‘straight A / high achieving’, school loving student (though cough, cough…hello control manifesting in other ways?!). The ODDS were from the outset, to those looking on, stacked for me, not against me. I share this  being unable to imagine what it is like to struggle with mental health/illness when the odds are most completely stacked AGAINST you.


I have worked with many individuals since (as a dietitian and clinician) for whom this is the case. Those who have been afflicted by similar struggles with eating, body image and ultimately self worth (not only patients in eating disorder recovery, but also more widely with well and sick individuals)… whose issues with food, health and their bodies are deeply rooted in poverty, past trauma, abuse, addiction…social inequality…this list goes on. And whilst I can’t pretend to know what’s it like to be them and to live through those struggles. I can and will continue to show my utmost compassion to every person I encounter seeking support, to listen to their fears and to ensure they feel heard (and yes, to also be that person who bluntly challenges that faulty voice in their head!).


I now know/recognise/believe that my own experiences (in some small way) ultimately help me to more deeply empathise with and support my patients/clients, and to ultimately be a better  clinician. Because I too have been there (and there shouldn’t be any shame in saying that even as a ‘healthcare professional’), I like to think I can in some way better help the people/patients I encounter to more clearly see their own worth (beyond what they eat/look like/weigh) and get them to a point of physical health (and in their relationships with food and body image)…where the reasons to keep living are clearer… they become non-negotiable.



So if you’re reading this…my only hope is that it gives you the courage to share… to speak up and out to others…to own that you’re struggling, or simply want to debrief about past issues. Mental health and illness are not dirty words, and I won’t be shying away from talking about the topic anymore.


And please remember (especially) to check on that friend/colleague/acquaintance who seems ‘fine’ or even looks like they’re #nailing life…because all is often not as it seems and creating space for someone to talk about it, and feel safe enough to show that vulnerability… should never be underestimated.


PS. And yeah these days I may be “recovered” – in textbook terms, BUT mental health is for life and managing anxiety/panic and those body image ‘wobbles’ are now just ongoing challenges that I choose to to approach with genuine curiosity, that teach me multitudes about myself and my own vulnerabilities. But the difference is that these days, I know how to challenge that voice, and most importantly when to reach out for help. Talking has been everything.


PPS. If you or anyone you know is struggling and needs anonymous, non judgemental help, then please, please reach out to the following:

In the UK:

Call free on 116 123 or visit the Samaritans website

For young persons crisis support: Call HopelineUK on 0800 068 41 41

Text 07786 209697

In Australia:


13 11 14

Suicide Call Back Service

1300 659 467

Beyond Blue

1300 224  636

MensLine Australia

1300 78 99 78

Kids Helpline

1800 551 800 (27/7 crisis support)


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