I’d known for years that the way I used food wasn’t right: restricting, binging, constantly thinking about it, following self-imposed rules and fad diets, always looking for the secret trick for losing that half stone. I also knew that I didn’t have an eating disorder, the most common being anorexia nervosa, bulimia nervosa and binge eating disorder (this last one being the least well-known, despite being the most prevalent). These are serious mental illnesses and although at times I felt pretty wretched in the grip of something so negative, I was aware that, thankfully, that wasn’t the issue for me (although I believe I was probably not far from tipping over into a more destructive pattern of behaviour).

I assumed I was lazy, greedy, lacking in discipline and willpower. I once got as far as googling Overeaters Anonymous, but that didn’t really speak to either my personal philosophy or my experiences.

At the supermarket checkout, I’d wonder if the assistant could tell that the food on the conveyor belt wasn’t dinner for a family of four with a terrible diet, but was in fact just for me that evening. I doubt they knew – would you, if the shopping included a large pepperoni pizza, a pasty, a family bag of posh crisps, a box of Coco Pops, a loaf of fresh white bread, a jar of Nutella, some sort of chocolatey pudding and a bag of five large chocolate chip cookies to eat in the car during the 10 minute drive home?

It’s no surprise that putting away most of this in the space of a couple of hours didn’t make me feel great. Guilt, shame, disgust sat on top of the physical discomfort. After hiding the evidence, I’d have a strong word with myself, make sure I knew how revolting I was, and vow to be “good” from now on.

That meant cutting calories, either however I decided was best or by following whichever diet caught my eye: SlimFast, one from a women’s magazine – even (a low point in 1998) eating nothing but satsumas, madeleines and chocolate milk. That ended with me fainting in a Spanish college canteen, dropping my tray to the inevitable sound of cheers and applause. Not cool.

“It’s all right for you, you’re always so slim!”. I heard this a lot, and would smile and nod, thinking “You have no idea how hard it is to stay this size”. And I wasn’t especially tiny, although I’ve swung from a size 6/8 to a 12/14 over the years, all in the pursuit of something in the middle.

This is what disordered eating looked like for me: extremes of binging on beige fatty foods, followed by periods of “clean” dieting to offset the damage I felt I’d caused and try to control the number on the scales (that I was often checking at least twice a day). I’d also eat in secret, mostly in the car; find excuses to stop at a petrol station for snacks; need to take food out with me “just in case”; put food in the bin so I wouldn’t eat it – then get it back out again and polish it off; made sure I only had 6 slices of banana on my single slice of breakfast toast; eat quite differently in front of other people to how I would by myself; feel I had to exercise to earn my calories – the list goes on….

Disordered eating is about having abnormal eating patterns, which might include things like I experienced, as well as other self-imposed rules, rituals, exclusions, preoccupations and more. These are behavioural issues, and although exhausting, unhealthy and potentially damaging, they are not the same as more narrowly defined, clinically diagnosed eating disorders.  

I had resigned myself to being stuck in this cycle for the rest of my life. If I’d done it for over 20 years, why would the next 20 or more be any different?

What changed for me was studying nutrition. Not only did I come across the term “disordered eating” for the first time (a moment that hit pretty hard and had me crying in front of the laptop), but I also learnt why those behaviours were happening and what I could do to start moving away from that cycle.

This has included eating more (who knew!), listening to my body’s signals, dealing with stress, getting more sleep, seeing food as an opportunity to nourish myself with wonderful things and knowing that “good enough is good enough”. It’s taken a little while, but being calm around food feels great. I can still pack away a box of chocolate fingers, but that’s because they are flipping delicious, not because I am weak and revolting. And I certainly don’t feel the need to “atone” for them the next day – just enjoy, then move on.

My work as a nutrition coach has shown me that disordered eating is so much more common than I would ever have imagined, often as a result of years of exposure to the nonsense of traditional diet culture. I have worked with clients who struggled with overeating, with rigid eating patterns, with emotional eating, with restrictions and cravings. Having someone to talk to who understands how tough it can be is a big help: if any of this sounds familiar, please know that you are absolutely not alone and it can get better!

For support with eating disorders, whether for you or for a loved one, please see Beat for lots of information and advice: https://www.beateatingdisorders.org.uk/

More details about disordered eating can be found here: https://www.healthline.com/health/disordered-eating-vs-eating-disorder#examples