This article contains references to eating disorders and disordered eating.
I have something of a complex relationship with Christmas. Don’t get me wrong. I’m a sucker for sparkles and I love a party. I see lots of friends, work gatherings abound, and I spend time with my family who are my most cherished people. But I’ve had anorexia for 19 years, since I was 19, and nothing is more agonising than huge amounts of food and forced fun in a confined space. Whilst smiling over it.
Christmas has always been a challenge, eating food that deviated from what I felt was normal, especially with other people around. I’m obsessed with calories and content, whereas Christmas is meant to be a ‘let your hair down’ kind of event. My sister would always want special breakfasts whereas I wanted to stick to my rules. I remember bursting into tears at the sight of a roast dinner. I’d find excuses to skip parties, and insist on doing exercise in the cold and snow, just to try to make up for any anticipated ‘extra’ food. It was miserable, and I can’t say it’s something I’m proud of. I’d stare at the boxes of chocolate or mince pies, willing myself to have one, but holding myself back. I have just about got comfortable eating what I deem to be safe meals with my immediate family (mum, dad, brother, sister and partners) but hate eating in front of anyone else, so we have super low-key Christmases with Christmas dinners that I’m sure some people would think are a bit half-hearted.
But a fun Christmas is something I want, and part of the life that I’m trying to build for myself. I’d love a whirlwind of spontaneous Christmas parties, free-flowing fizz and endless mince pies, and I still hold out hope it might happen. But for now, anorexia has placed restrictions on my life that mean I just can’t do it.
Eating disorders don’t stop for Christmas. Whilst everyone else is kicking back and having fun, the anxiety and torment that comes from a severe and enduring eating disorder is very real.
And I’m not the only one. For the 1.25 million people living with an eating disorder in the UK, Christmas isn’t always a sparkling wonderland of delight. The pandemic saw numbers soar – and they haven’t gone down. We’re also seeing an increase in rates among men, and women in middle age. This isn’t a teenage girl issue.
And it’s not just the sheer volume of food at Christmastime that ED patients find difficult. For me, I find it hard to eat around people, and eat food cooked by others. I just about trust my mum to make what I call a ‘safe’ roast dinner, in which my food is weighed and plated up in the kitchen, so I know it’s what I consider the ‘right’ amount. I always feel an absolute idiot (which by the way, if you are suffering, you’re not, you’re sick. And if you’re caring – please never call someone an idiot for a mental illness). But it’s also how I manage things.
This Christmas ‘routine’ has changed recently. I’ve been married for 18 months, which means there are two families to deal with. My in-laws are wonderful, but I still feel a little bit uneasy eating around wider family – and hate that I put the rules and restrictions on my mother-in-law to make me a ‘safe’ meal. There are children in my husband’s family, and I want to model good behaviour for a younger generation. But the huge fear takes over if I do try to deviate from the norm.