Why Doctors Don’t Get to Tell Me I’m Overweight

Why Doctors Don’t Get to Tell Me I’m Overweight

TRIGGER WARNING – DISCUSSION OF EATING DISORDER AND WEIGHT

 

 

 

 

 

 

Following on from my earlier post about my experience with anorexia, I wanted to discuss (probably just vent about) the treatment for this.

So, as I said, I became unwell around the age of 19, following a breakdown at university. I was put on antidepressants and suspended my studies for 1 year, staying at my family home in Shropshire. Here, my focus was fully on my weight. I became obsessed with how much I weighed, how much weight I could lose, and how to avoid putting weight back on. I spent hours at work pacing up and down corridors in an attempt to burn calories and worked 12 hour shifts as a carer having only eaten one biscuit.

So after a while, my mum came with me to my GP, and expressed her concern. I opened up and said I wasn’t eating, and had a severe phobia of putting weight on. His response; “this might be linked to your antidepressants” and he took me off them then and there. No gradual reduction, no alternative, just cold turkey.

Following this, my mood spiralled downwards, and my eating became even more out of control.  I would cry hysterically when food was put in front of my, and spent hours looking in the mirror, scanning my entire body for fat.

So, my mum took me to see a different GP at the same surgery. She was furious. She apologised on behalf of her colleague, and said he should never have taken me off my antidepressants. She restarted my antidepressants immediately. She then weighed me. “You’re not underweight. Try not to worry, you’re fine.” Great, thanks love.

Essentially, the NICE guidelines meant that unless your BMI is officially “underweight” you are not able to access treatment. At this stage, I was around 8 stone. To be underweight I would have needed to be 7 stone. So, a medically professional told someone with all the symptoms of anorexia they needed to be thinner to get help. Sounds sensible. I have never felt so devastated. It took so much to open up, and I felt it was thrown back in my face.

So, I got better alone. My mum was an unbelievable support, and never forced me to eat when I couldn’t bring myself to do it. She showed patience and understanding, despite being terrified I genuinely might die. And I sought a private counsellor. Again, she was incredible, Rather than judging me, she showed me compassion and validation (anyone who knows anything about BPD knows validation is the single most important factor in recovery!) Slowly, I began to feel empowered, and my need to control my eating gradually reduced.

Today, I am in fact “overweight” and ‘weight-restored’ from anorexia. I still struggle with wanting to restrict my eating, and loathe my current size with a passion. It takes a lot for me to accept that right now I am not in a position to restrict my eating safely, and that is okay.

My GP however, has other ideas. Each appointment, regardless of the reason, I am reminded I am “overweight.” Instantly, my thoughts begin to spiral, and all I want to do is starve myself again. However, I have learnt the power of asserting my boundaries. I am now comfortable telling a GP (despite them not knowing me when I was anorexic) that they do not get to ‘care’ now I am overweight, when they failed to support me when I was underweight. I begged them for help and did not get it. So now, I refuse to pander to them in return. My body, my rules.

I am unbelievably hurt and frustrated by the treatment I received when I was unwell, but I am aware this is slowly starting to change. Criteria for diagnosis is now more focussed on behavioural symptoms as opposed to weight category. But, young girls are still being told they are not thin enough to get help. There is still a long way to go with eating disorder support, and I hate to think of the girls struggling to get professional help today.

If a GP cared as much as they did when I was underweight as they do now I am overweight, I may have been saved years of suffering.

The image attached is a Cosmopolitan campaign that ran when I was actually unwell. I was so hopeful they may have the power to change things, and am saddened to see how little progress has been made since I first sought help 4-5 years ago.

o-COSMO-570

L x