About 4 years ago, what may have appeared healthy to others was really my debilitating desire to be as small as possible.There were many warning signs that my initial attempt to improve my health was turning into something much more sinister. However, I ignored these warning signs. I was too ashamed to admit to what was going on.
Now, I want to change that by sharing my story. Namely, I was suffering from an eating disorder.
I have always felt unhappy about my body
As I was leaving college to go to university, I wanted to make a change. I was always the “token fat kid” growing up, being the biggest one among my peers. Although I never realized that it bothered me, I always thought my body didn’t look “how it should.”
I had grown up with this story, but I didn’t want to be known just as the fat kid anymore. Why would anybody want to be reduced down to how their body looks?
So, I started to make changes slowly. I started to move a little more and improve my eating habits — nothing particularly drastic. On reflection, I wouldn’t say I had an eating disorder at this time. However, I definitely had a disordered attitude toward eating and my body. I felt compelled to eat in a way that changed my body and how it looked.
As I did this, I began to receive many compliments: “Connor, you’re looking so healthy!,” “You’re looking great!,” “Looking lean, Connor!,” and so on.
Truth be told, I began to crave this recognition. I struggled a lot in school, mainly due to learning difficulties that doctors only picked up not long before I went to university. Not only was I the token fat kid, but I was also the one who was intellectually always going to be behind. I never felt I got any credit, but here was something everybody could see and praise me for “achieving.”
I then moved to university, and all of these comments stopped. I was now a “normal looking” guy, but this wasn’t enough for me. I had found this way of getting the recognition that I craved — by losing weight and looking “better.”
I started going to the gym every other day. I would scour the internet for the next “Brutal Bodybuilder Muscle Building Blueprint” or other similar rubbish. I would do this for a week before panicking that I wasn’t looking more “manly” and jumping onto the next program. I did this for a year obsessively, not realizing that I had started going down a path I would later regret.
I then started to go to the university boxing club. Yes, I wanted to make some new friends, but more importantly, I wanted to carry on this transformation. If people could see me and think, “Hey, look at the ex-fat kid doing the toughest sport around — go him!,” then I’d be satisfied.
I attended a few times a week. After about 6 months, my coach asked me if I wanted to compete. “Amazing,” I thought to myself. “What an end to this fat kid story I’ve featured in for so long. An actual boxing match! Me! Connor, the fat kid whom everybody pointed out for being big and never gave any credit.”
Sadly, from the moment I accepted this match, I changed. I had to lose some weight to meet a weight category requirement that was far below what is healthy for me. However, I was going to do it regardless. I craved the credit, and I was going to get it.
To say I was obsessed with food, weight, calories, and so on would be an understatement. I trained multiple times a day, measured every bit of food that I ate, and weighed myself morning and night. Eventually, I weighed myself at every possible opportunity. I started to become disinterested in all other hobbies and activities.
I had one thing on my mind: Losing weight
Fast forward a couple of months after starting this new regimen, and I had my boxing match. It was good, but the real fight started after the bout finished. Now that I had no requirement to meet a certain weight, I started to binge on food. Many around me thought it was funny and almost deserved. I had been “good” with my diet for so long that I deserved to indulge.
I remember having a panicked feeling the day after my first boxing match and the subsequent bingeing episode. I knew I would gain weight if I didn’t do something about the excess food I had eaten. So I went for a longer run than usual and restricted my food intake even further once I got back. I felt I had to “make up for” the binge.
This 1-day solution turned into an all-encompassing way of living. I tumbled to a point where I was restricting extremely all day, exercising compulsively through all the injuries I was picking up, and ending each night in pain from uncontrollable food binges.
I had lost interest in many of the things I loved. I started to distance myself from friends and family. I would turn around at the door of social events, fearing that many would see Sadly, none of these warning signs mattered. I had to lose weight and maintain this macho image — there was no choice. Anyway, my boxing club elected me as captain and signed me up for my second boxing match, so I felt, “something must be working, right?”
Far from it. I was broken inside, unable to think of anything other than the food I was eating little of but craving so intensely. Despite this, I never thought that things could be any different. I was residing in the idea that this pain was my new way of living, even if it would slowly kill me.
Then, one day, on a freezing 4 a.m. run in Edinburgh — trying to burn off my “failure” of eating too much the night before — I broke down. I was injured, miserable, and a different person entirely. How did I get to the point where I was so obsessed with how I looked and how people saw me that I was going to such ext
Thankfully, I spoke to my friend about what was happening. I didn’t have the words to call it an eating disorder, but I knew something wasn’t right.
I was lucky enough to then speak with my general practitioner [primary care physician] and eventually work with a therapist. I had a great experience with my therapist and now consider myself fully recovered, but that was only possible because I reached out.
Many men out there are suffering from an eating disorder. However, because of our cultural misunderstandings around how they affect people, many men go without treatment — their struggles unnoticed.
These are not just insignificant issues that affect a small minority. Eating disorders are a debilitating experience, but it is possible to overcome them with the right help. Men do experience eating disorders, and I was one of them. By sharing my story, I hope that more people can realize this and intervene with their friends, family, or even themselves.
Through My Eyes: ADHD and avoidant restrictive eating
For as long as I can recall I have been quite averse to certain foods. I hated the consistency of tomatoes, the texture and smell of bananas, and the way yogurt was just smooth. I just put it down to disliking certain foods — that was how my family saw it, too.
I would insist my sandwiches be made without butter because I didn’t like the coating on my tongue after eating it. I loathed touching raw meat, particularly chicken, because the smell drove me up the wall, and the texture felt almost slimy.
Jelly, processed meats, and anything with multiple components, like trifle, made my skin crawl. It was sensory overload and I couldn’t seem to process it. Some days I would get frustrated with myself because I would suddenly be overwhelmed even by foods I did enjoy, like avocado, eggs, or cheese.
I couldn’t understand why it was such an uphill battle just to eat something. The sense of overwhelm was so severe that I would unconsciously avoid eating after experiencing a reaction to a particular food.
I was diagnosed with ADHD in my mid-20s, and up until that point had no idea I was neurodiverse. Suddenly everything made sense — difficulties at school, being too talkative, struggling with focus and concentration, overthinking and anxiety, so many elements of my life made sense.
I had no idea just how severely ADHD had impacted my life, and how it affected my everyday experience. It was both a relief to finally have an answer for so many things I had experienced and incredibly frustrating and painful because I felt resentful about the difficulties I had faced.
I was upset because had I known sooner, I would likely have had better tools to deal with the disorder.
‘The texture, scent, consistency or appearance of a dish may unsettle me’
My therapist and I discussed my issues with sensory overload, which manifested in multiple ways — sensitivity to lights, loud sounds, crowded spaces, and even textures of my clothes and blankets.
It dawned on me that my issues with textures, smells and consistencies in relation to food could absolutely be due to ADHD. I decided to consult the internet, and found out about avoidant restrictive food intake disorder (ARFID), an eating disorder associated with those with ADHD and autism.
The research indicated it was similar to anorexia but with a key difference — people with ARFID have no interest in body weight, size, shape, or body image, which is commonly seen in people who deal with anorexia.
I had no idea that ADHD could play any kind of role in the issues I had faced with food all my life. I couldn’t really understand it or find an abundance of resources for the lay person about the connection between ADHD and disordered eating.
I tend to worry and become anxious a long time before meals, when I go to new restaurants, or visit someone else’s home for a meal.I worry that the texture, scent, consistency or even appearance of a dish may unsettle me to the point of not eating for hours on end.
My therapist and I have discussed the issue at length and thankfully, as a neurodivergent woman herself, she truly understands and is able to speak and relate to me in a way that is comforting. Her recommendation to work with an occupational therapist to deal with the sensitivity has been helpful.
ARFID is exceptionally difficult to deal with because it completely shifts your life, and makes it difficult to socialize without being hyperfocused on the gaze of others. Generally speaking, people have no idea about ARFID so it can seem like someone is just being difficult or a picky eater, which is not the reality.
I wish I could just complete a meal without quitting because the smell was overwhelming — it is just not that simple to navigate.
It is a part of ADHD that is incredibly hard to navigate, it is difficult to explain to people. It is not something we talk about often when we speak about ADHD.
It is so rare to hear about ARFID that the general public seems puzzled when I attempt to explain my eating habits and their link to ADHD.
It isn’t seen as one of the main symptoms to look out for, and in my experience, it took multiple individuals commenting on my weight loss, and my own realization that I avoid multiple foods and often skip meals because I am overwhelmed by the sensory overload to become conscious of it.
After a significant battle with attempting to force myself to eat and just ending up overwhelmed and physically unwell, I decided to reach out to experts to discuss the experience I had been having.
My issues with eating and sensitivity around particular things seemed to be heightened when I was overwhelmed, in general. It seemed to exacerbate the symptoms.
One of the ways in which I have been able to manage my situation has been by consulting experts, prepping meals beforehand so I avoid feeling overwhelmed, and working with an occupational therapist to manage my sensory issues.
Neurodivergence is a complicated issue and one that is multifaceted. Our experiences would likely be easier, and our symptoms managed sooner if regarded holistically and not just as focus- and hyperactivity-related issues.
This would not make sensory issues go away entirely but it would provide the tools to better manage these sensitivities.
Assessing what situations I am fairly comfortable with and the things that distress me has allowed me to open up in a safe environment and slowly work on exposure therapy.
We need to have conversations about ADHD that are wide and varied. The condition isn’t the same for everyone, and it would help many if we viewed it holistically and treated the multiple parts of this disorder.
Having conversations about ADHD and comorbidities like ARFID could be life-saving to some, it could provide answers, and even encourage others to seek professional help for their disordered eating before it causes long-term effects on the body.
In my view, we have a long way to go in having open conversations without the stigma about these kinds of symptoms that everyone shies away from. No one wants to talk about disordered eating, yet it is stigmatized despite the fact that it is not a rarity.
Source - Medical News Today
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