** trigger warning… potentially triggering pictures and
content about eating disorders **

Hi everyone!

I decided back in 2019 I wanted to do something that would
resemble how I’ve overcome a lot of things, which have at times, felt scarier than jumping out of a plane. I conquered those hurdles, so in honour of everyone still struggling to overcome their own mental health struggles, I’m taking the plunge and jumping out of a plane at 15,000 feet. COVID delayed things slightly but I’m hoping to raise £1,000 for MIND and the fantastic work they do.

MIND in particular were faultless in helping me through such
a dark time, and I still rely on their services whilst experiencing bad
patches. MIND not only helped me on the brink of ending my life, put me on the right path to counselling and helped re-home me from an abusive household. Without their help, I’m sure I wouldn’t be here today.

If you’d like to hear more about my own journey with mental
health, please read below.

For most of my childhood, I was bullied relentlessly because
of my weight. The constant teasing would bring me to tears almost every night and I could barely face going to school. At age 12, I’d become very depressed and had been looking on the internet for diet tips. Whilst endlessly scrolling, I came across something called ‘proana’. Very thin, sick people showing their bodies and giving crazy tips on how to achieve their weight. The more and more I researched over the next weeks, the more I was refusing food, exercising and isolating myself hoping to look like them. Eventually, I wasn’t eating more than a slice of bread and plate of vegetables. I’d obsessively exercise, sometimes for 6-10 hours a day, until my body physically could not do anymore. I was running on empty and everything in my body started to shut down. Everyone around me was concerned and could see my unusual behaviour around food. The doctors referred me to CAMHS (Child and Adolescent Mental Health Services) where I spent 10 months in therapy. I returned to a healthy weight and was able to enjoy my teenage years.

During Sixth Form, age 17, I unfortunately relapsed again, very quickly and within 3 months had lost over half my body weight. I would spend my waking hours obsessing over calories, weighing food meticulously, over-exercising to burn off what little I’d eaten that day. My eating disorder dictated my life. It became my life. After Sixth Form ended, I had no other purpose but to satisfy the voice in my head and carry out all the disgusting things it wanted me to do.

I had completely lost all my periods. All my muscle and fat was gone. My hair started to fall out, I was cold all the time. My family were noticeably concerned about my weight but I’d constantly deny being ill and continue to hide my actions from them. Eventually, as I became increasingly weaker, I fainted and the secret couldn’t continue. I was seen by my GP, who took a reading of my heart rate, electrolyte levels and bloods. The results shocked her. In 6 months, I had pushed my body to breaking point. I was told I was at risk of cardiac arrest. My electrolyte levels were dangerously low due to heavily abusing laxatives for months prior. I was touching death and didn’t know about it. The voice inside my head wanted me to be ill. It wanted me to lose more weight or die.

I continued spiralling further and further downhill. I lost
even more weight and would often wake in the night with heart palpitations worrying I would die, but being totally at peace with that. On my 18^th birthday, one that everyone should remember I couldn’t stomach any food. The ‘cake’ my Nan made me, a single granola bar with a candle surrounded by fruit was untouched and I spent the majority of the day power-walking.

My health had severely declined and by this point, I had to be forced to the doctors for check-ups. The doctor determined that I was now unable to make informed decisions for myself, and under the Mental Health Act sectioned me. She told me she was calling an ambulance and I was to be admitted as a patient at the Warnford Hospital in Oxford. I spent the next 6 months in hospital recovering. With regular therapy, monitored meal times and inability to exercise, I restored my weight and was discharged.

Like many people with anorexia, this was one of many relapses, and as soon as I was discharged, I was unable to keep within meal-plans and eventually went back to my old habits.

In 2012, I had just finished a 3-hour walk when I stepped out into the road and was hit by a car and broke 2 bones in my leg. I remember
lying on the floor thinking I was dead, and in that moment, for the first time in years, I felt at peace. When I finally came-to and realised what had happened, I wished I had died, or rather, I would prefer to be dead than have a broken leg interfere with my exercise routine. I spent 9 days in hospital recovering and was bed bound for 4 months whilst my bones tried to repair themselves. I was unable to mobilise myself as my weak arms couldn’t hold up my body weight on crutches. The doctors weren’t sure if my body was capable of repairing the damage. It was a long, agonising 4 months to wait, but in that time, I decided I wanted to continue studying.

Luckily, I managed to walk into college in September 2012
after 4 months of rehab. I was still dangerously underweight but continued to see my therapist regularly. Things were very difficult at college, especially eating around others. I found it difficult to concentrate and my situation at home in an abusive household meant I would feel very isolated. MIND helped me to move out of home in December 2012 and so began an even worse time of my life.

I quickly developed a binge eating disorder living on my
own. With the freedom of living alone, I started to incorporate new foods into my diet, which quickly turned into massive quantities of food. I couldn’t control myself and would endlessly eat thousands of calories in 1 sitting. My weight shot up and I went up 6 dress sizes in 2 months. I would throw food in the bin, cover it with salt, flush it down the toilet to try and deter myself from eating it, but I’d continue despite this, eating out the bin and washing the salt off and eating soggy food. On one particular day, I couldn’t bare the guilt anymore, so decided to try throwing the food up.

For the next 6 months, I struggled daily with Bulimia. I was unable to let my body digest any food. I would stand over the toilet for hours on end, tears streaming down my face, shoving my fingers down my throat until they were blue. I would often vomit blood but the voice in my head was so loud and would convince me that that was healthy.

People had started to notice, and my Nan confronted me one
day about it. I went back to therapy and although I continued to struggle with Bulimia until 2016, I have the tools from therapy to address urges in a constructive, realistic way.

I still very much struggle with aspects of my eating disorder. I know I will probably always have an eating disorder in some form, but I definitely now understand the patterns and what to do when I am feeling a relapse.

If you got to the end of reading this, thank you. I hope that by sharing my story, I am able to help someone reach out. I hope my story of recovery inspires you. Since recovering, I’ve done so many amazing things, none of which would have been possible without the incredible support of MIND.

Please consider donating whatever you can :)

Thank you, Much love, Ell xxx