“Beyond my labels: My journey with anorexia and autism”

I do not think I will ever fully recover from all the times in the treatment rooms. All these professionals forcing me to have nutrition all while I was silently calculating how many calories were in the drip attached to my arm, terrified as anorexia was screaming numbers into my ears. The feeling of your life being destroyed by these strangers who would just keep on repeating “you need this", and having absolutely zero control of what would be happening is a situation that I would not wish upon anybody. Especially someone like me who has had a recent diagnosis of autism. This is what I will be covering in this essay, from my personal struggles, triumphs, and lessons I have learned as someone living with anorexia and autism. 

I first began struggling with my body image when a boy in my primary one class made a hurtful comment on my figure. Soon I became fixated on my appearance and comparing myself to my classmates. I had always felt different from my peers, starting puberty earlier than the rest of my year I always felt out of place with children my age. I also began realising that they were able to make friends a lot easier and knew how to act around other children. This led me to become an extreme perfectionist as I didn’t have many friends, I would put all my focus into being the best in everything I did hoping that one day they may see my effort and accept me for who I was. This continued through to secondary school where my eating had become a huge issue due to feeling excluded from friendship groups and out of place with my peers. My physical health declined rapidly, and I was given my diagnosis of anorexia nervosa. I felt so confused and upset because this “illness" was like my best friend. It gave me a strict routine to follow, a certain amount to eat and would constantly compliment me if I followed what it was asking. And now everyone is telling me to let go of anorexia, but it felt like the only thing I needed in such a confusing and uncomfortable world. My physical appearance quickly became a metric by which I measured my worth. 

When the term autism was first mentioned I was confused and did not fully know if the diagnosis even fit but then I started to realize small things like needing a clear structured plan to my day and not being able to understand people's clear intentions when speaking to me or asking me questions. Alongside this I would struggle with certain sounds and textures. Slowly I began to think of the idea that autism may be a possibility. When I went in for my assessment I still did not have a definite opinion on the diagnosis or a clear answer in my head of what the result would be but when the doctor returned to the room and gave me my diagnosis it felt like unlocking a door I hadn’t realised I needed to open. My struggles with food began to make sense – it wasn’t all about food, but having a way to manage sensory overload and the sense of control that it gives you. 

Going through years of intense treatment for anorexia prior to my autism diagnosis was incredibly difficult as I would struggle immensely with communicating with staff members and doctors about my personal needs and opinions on my care leading me to feel extremely depressed and suicidal. These feelings were there for years as I felt that no one would ever be able to understand the way my brain works and so my struggles would never improve. But after my diagnosis of autism pieces began to come together and the quality of my treatment improved significantly because what was once just seen as self-destructive behaviours, I began to understand were deeply intertwined with how my brain processes information. My obsession with control, routine and perfectionism were manifestations of sensory sensitivities and need for structure. This helped tremendously with the quality of my inpatient treatment as staff knew how to support me when I would get overwhelmed and let me structure my day to help me cope better in the difficult environment hospital is. 

In reflecting on my journey with anorexia and autism, I have come to realise that these two parts of my identity are deeply connected, shaping my experience in ways that are both complex and unique. Living with anorexia often made me feel isolated, trapped in a cycle of self-sabotage, doubt and control, but autism has given me a distinct perspective on the world that has shaped my understanding of myself and others. These challenges, while increasingly difficult, have also taught me invaluable lessons about resilience, the importance of self-awareness and the strength that comes with asking for help. 

Through this journey I have learned that recovery is not linear, and healing doesn’t mean being “fixed". It is about accepting myself with all my strengths, struggles and vulnerabilities. There are days when I still struggle but I am slowly beginning to trust the process and to recognise that my worth is not based on my eating habits or the traits associated with autism. I now see my experiences as part of my story, not the whole of it. They are pieces of a puzzle still unfolding. The journey is ongoing, but I am learning to embrace who I am - imperfections, growth and all. I have discovered that healing is about patience and self-compassion, and that progress, however small, is worth celebrating. I hope to work towards helping and supporting children and teenagers who struggle with their mental health in the future because no one deserves to feel like they are a lost cause and don’t matter anymore. I am going to try my very best to let those children know and realise how much they truly matter. We all fight our own battles, but we also have the strength to keep moving forward.