Facing the Demon

Anorexia has been a rollercoaster of emotional torture, but it has forced the growth of my self-awareness to such a point where I am grateful for it. When I was first diagnosed, anorexia was nothing but a feeling; a concoction of depression, anxiety, fear, anger and chaos. It was the feeling of overwhelm when I felt full, it was the panic I felt if I didn’t feel exhausted when I went to sleep at night (a sign that I hadn’t burned enough energy). As I got older, the feelings became more filtered, more precise. It was like turning the dial on an old radio, looking for certain frequencies; I was starting to hear hints of news and weather among the static. The blurred feelings were replaced by exact thoughts. Anorexia developed from a feeling, to a voice.

A voice I call “George”.

Now George and I tend to be at loggerheads from time to time. George has a tendency to jump to the worst of conclusions without a moment’s hesitation, overlooking any positivity, and turning mountains into molehills. Here’s an example of some of his antics:

George will take some constructive criticism from a colleague, a boss, or a client, and immediately turn that into, “You’re a failure”.

George will take the slightest physical ailment, pain or discomfort and turn that into, “You’re going to die”.

George will take romantic/social rejection and turn that into, “You are unloveable/undesireable/an outcast”.

George takes my achievements and my proudest moments and turns them into, “You’re unworthy, this will fall apart”.

George takes my aspirations for the future, turns the screen dark and says, “Don’t get your hopes up, you will never see the fruits of your labour”.

Long story short, George is an annoying bastard. However, medically speaking, anorexia cannot be cured, only mitigated, so I must make peace with George, as he and I have a long way to go together.

For a very long time I lived in fear of George, believing that his words were prophecies that would inevatibly be fulfilled. I’m very aware of the art of self-sabotage, and I always worried that despite my best efforts, George would send me off a cliff of self-destruction. That was until I learned to question George, and not take negativity as Gospel. There’s a fantastic scene in “Walk the Line” that comes to mind here. A certain gentleman says to Johnny Cash that he “looks like he is going to a funeral”, based on his all black attire. Joaquin Pheonix, with sunglasses on, casually replies, “Maybe I am”. And I realise, that is the perfect response to George’s incessant nagging.

“Maybe I am”

Maybe I am doomed for failure.
Maybe I will some day fall physcially ill.
Maybe I will be sacked as an engineer, fail as an author and say the wrong thing some day as a public speaker, rendering myself cancelled indefinitely.
People will echo George’s words and pass comment that my actions have made me look like a gobshite.

Maybe I am.

You see, I started replying to my negative thoughts with this phrase, and I noticed that after I say those words…. nothing happens. Even falsely acknowledging that I am the predictions of these terrifying thoughts, does not make them so. I realised that being afraid of George is pointless. He’s an illusion, a series of thoughts, and only has as much power over me as I allow.

We may all struggle with negative self-talk, low self esteem or negative self-perception at any time in our lives.
“What if we fail?”
Maybe we will.
“What if people laugh at us, criticise us, or look down upon us?”
Maybe they will.
“What if our greatest fears come true?”
Maybe they will.

I have had so many crises in my mind over the last 1, 2, 5, even 10 years, most of which have never happened. Almost all of my negative perceptions of myself have proved false, and almost all of my greatest fears have continued to be just that – fears – thougts and illusions that have never materialised.

I have learned that when you stare the demon in the face, when you acknowledge the problem head on, you immediately give yourself a better chance. Fear is afraid of you too. It’s afraid of the day you look it dead in the eye and say “I am sick of your shite”.

So whatever problem you have, whatever fear is hanging over you, whatever demon is on your doorstep, confront it. Grab it by the throat. If it’s going to hang around, at least make it pay rent.

Drive it on lads,
Conor