“For me, it goes way beyond emotional eating.”

Although I was diagnosed with Binge Eating Disorder (BED) some time ago, this is one of the only times I have spoken about it. BED suffers from far more stigma compared to other eating disorders. Whilst people with anorexia and bulimia are treated with sympathy and are thought of as brave, the same isn’t really true for BED.

In the past I’ve encountered attitudes which have reinforced negative beliefs about myself and my body image- that I’m greedy, gluttonous and have no self-control, and that binge eating isn’t a real mental health problem and is just an excuse to overeat. And to be honest these were all things I probably would have thought too, if I hadn’t been diagnosed with BED. It isn’t as easy as ‘just stop eating’. It is an addiction.

I have had a massive appetite ever since I can remember. One of my most vivid memories from primary school was going to a friend’s house and managing to eat eight burgers one after another. My friend’s mum was astounded and couldn’t believe how much food I could put away. When she later mentioned it to my mum and commented on how much I ate, my mum scolded me for being greedy, worried that my friend’s family would think we didn’t have enough money to eat.

The funny thing was, sometimes we didn’t- growing up we lived in relative poverty, and we already lived in an area of high deprivation. Servings were small to make food go further and we never had things like takeaways as a treat. The attitude was very much, you get what you are given, and if you don’t eat it, you go without. This meant I developed a habit of wolfing down food, regardless of whether I liked it or not. On the rare occasions there were treats in the house- like at Christmas- I would eat nonstop until I felt sick, and my mum took to hiding sweets away from me to stop me gorging on them. Most of the time though, we couldn’t afford luxuries, so treats weren’t kept in the house.

It was as a teenager when my issues with food began to surface. Because access to food was so restricted at home, I started to acquire it outside the house instead. Pocket money would be spent on sweets, crisps and chocolate, or any other food that I liked. If I went out with friends, we’d buy fast food, and sleepovers became an excuse to eat nonstop. Despite the fact I ate so much, my weight never really changed, but I was already much taller with a bigger frame than my friends so any weight gain would have been difficult to notice. I think people at home guessed my eating habits were excessive. Digs and comments would be made about how I was putting on weight and about how boys preferred slim girls. But I loved food so much, I didn’t care.

By the time I was 16, I had got my first part time job working in a supermarket. Combined with my staff discount and the ready availability of products, I started to spend nearly all of my wages on food. Within a few months I’d gained weight and was struggling to do up my trousers. I realised I had a problem when I was out shopping with my mum in a boutique store and couldn’t fit into a pair of size 12 jeans. When I asked for a size 14, the sales assistant looked disgusted and said, “We don’t do clothes that big.” I was mortified and decided I needed to sort out my weight.

My obsession with food shifted focus. I was still spending most of my wages on food, but now I was buying healthy options. I lost the weight quite quickly, and more after that. I was still bingeing, but this time it was on very low calorie and low fat foods which had less of an impact on my weight. I slimmed right down and felt at my most confident. However, it wasn’t to last.

Not long after my dramatic weight loss, I started university. With the constant going out and drinking, followed by takeaways on the way home and my lack of cooking skills, it all piled back on within weeks. From there, my weight just went up and up and I felt more and more uncomfortable in my clothes.

I did a year on placement abroad in a country famed for its high fat, high carb foods and this also did me no favours. Away from home there was nobody to vocalise their concerns about my weight gain or eating habits, which by now had progressed to eating until I felt- or in some cases, was- sick. Being sick was in many ways the best case scenario. I got the pleasure of eating, but then rid myself of the calories. I was buying food every day, sometimes multiple times, and it was becoming an expensive habit to fund.

I was disgusted with myself that I could open the fridge, start eating and keep going until I’d eaten almost everything. It didn’t even matter if it tasted nice, I’d eat whatever was physically edible. I’ve been known to eat dry slices of bread one after another until the whole loaf has gone. After I’d binged, I would usually feel so guilty and ashamed of what I’d done that I’d starve myself for days after. Then the hunger would kick in and the cycle would start over again.

I also hated eating with other people. I found that once I started eating, I couldn’t stop, and in the presence of other people it was harder and harder not to give in to the urge to stuff myself. But obviously I fought the feeling, because I was so paranoid that people around me might think that I was greedy. At university, I would hide the wrappers of the food I ate from my housemates and would be secretive about my eating habits. It was essential that nobody found out what I was doing.

I’m not sure how much truth there is in the statement that your stomach size shrinks or expands depending on how much you eat, but I never seemed to feel satisfied. I avoided social occasions involving food- it was so much easier to just not go to events to escape having to eat. I felt like people were watching me and judging me, even though looking back they probably weren’t.

After I left university I decided to take matters into my own hands and joined a gym and hired a personal trainer. Since I struggled to regulate what I ate, I decided to try and offset the damage by exercising instead. I was surprised to find that I actually enjoyed exercise and started going every day.

Within a few months I had lost a significant amount of weight and I was thrilled. I was at my slimmest ever and was happy with how I looked. By this point I was running for 90 minutes a day on the treadmill, then doing another two hours of weights or more cardio. I would visit the gym twice a day most days. I was also running half marathons regularly. My PT expressed concern about me overdoing it, but I was obsessed. For the first time ever, I had my dream figure and was able to eat whatever I wanted.

But after two exhausting years of this routine, disaster struck. I developed a twinge in my left knee which got progressively worse. After one high intensity running session, I noticed a dull pain. By the time I woke the next morning I was in agony and unable to walk down the stairs.

I panicked. Any form of cardio caused a flare up and I had to stop exercising completely. Inevitably the weight started to creep back on and this triggered a deep depression and new obsession with my weight. Stupidly, I did try to return to running several times before I was ready, worsening my injury. Physiotherapy wasn’t effective and six months later not only was I no closer to running again, but my right knee also became affected.

This was six years ago, and since then my weight has yo-yoed. I go through phases where I will lose weight through protein shake meal replacement diets, but as a binge eater I always go back to old habits. I have tried healthy eating plans with little success- I just can’t sustain it.

I am now at my biggest. Not enormous, but my BMI has nudged into the obese category and I hate my reflection in the mirror. I wear a waist trainer under my clothes most days because I hate my stomach. No longer fitting into the same clothes I wore in my gym days is something I can’t seem to get over. I have pictures of me as a size 8 as my phone lock screen to try and remind myself to stop eating. I’ve tried not having treats in the house, but to me, it makes no difference. I will binge on sprouts if they’re in front of me. I hate how eating is my go-to no matter how I’m feeling. If I’m sad, I eat. If I’m happy, I eat. If I’m bored, I eat. If I’m stressed, I eat. It’s a compulsion and an ongoing battle to acknowledge that I’m not just greedy, I’m mentally ill.

I was referred to a dietician several months ago by a psychiatrist and I’m still waiting for the appointment to come through. Although I am relieved that someone has recognised I have a problem, I feel that because I look like I’m a normal weight, people didn’t take me seriously when I tried to explain my problems with food. I’m hungry all the time and I think about food constantly. For me, it goes way beyond emotional eating.