Tales from a Bruised Mind

When I was 16 years old, my relationship with food changed forever.

It was my sixteenth birthday party and I choked on a piece of birthday cake to the point where I thought I was going to throw up. While that might not seem like a huge deal, it changed a lot for me from that point forward.

Let me explain, in a handy timeline.

2014: The cake incident occurs and something changes with my stress levels. I become so anxious about eating in public that I simply don’t eat at all and only feel comfortable doing so at home.

2015: My final year of high school. I lose a lot of weight and get pretty skinny, but certainly not healthy skinny. At my lowest, I weighed around 55 kilograms and was 5’11, so I definitely needed some more weight on me. I commence months of psychology help around this time and I am officially diagnosed with a social anxiety disorder surrounding eating.

2016: I start university and things begin to get a little better, but I am still unmedicated and still stressing a lot in general. In this year, I begin taking antidepressants to combat my high levels of stress. The GP prescribed me with sertraline, a common drug for battling depression and anxiety. My appetite slowly returns to normal (thank goodness).

2018: As things progress, my appetite increases and I eat more and more. I get a little chubby, but I am happy and healthy otherwise. I finish my university degree and have an absolute ball in doing it.

2019: I experience my first mental health episode (psychosis) and am hospitalised for two weeks. I am so drugged up that I have no issue with eating whatsoever.

Later in 2019: I experience incredible bouts of depression and my appetite is reduced significantly. I lose some weight and have no interest in eating, along with little to no hunger. I remember being so nauseous every morning that I’d often vomit just from working myself up so much. This lasts around two months until the doctors can fix the issue.. tweaking my antidepressants.

Late 2020: I relapse and suffer another psychotic episode and am hospitalised for three weeks. I am so manic that I can eat pretty normally.

2021: I suffer a massive come-down from my manic highs, I am diagnosed with bipolar disorder and enter another period of depression. My appetite drops away once again and I have to battle to actually eat as I once again have no appetite or any want to eat. The depression lasts around six months, maybe longer. I begin to take a new antipsychotic medication called Olanzapine, which has a major side effect of, yep, weight gain.

2022: I move to Sydney to start the next chapter of my life. I am the most stable I have been in years, but still find the relocation stressful. I cope okay.

June 2022: I take myself to hospital as I believe I’m going to suffer another episode. Eating okay, but not great.I spend three days in a ward where I can recover in a safe and controlled environment.

November 2023: I last over a year without relapsing, but due to work and environmental stress, I take myself back to hospital and move home to Queensland to recover and work through my issues with family close by.

Today: I am the most positive and stable man that I have been since I was 16. It’s amazing what 12 years can do, but I no longer struggle with my eating, or my moods, or anything really.

Life is amazing!

If i can offer any words of advice to you epps out there, it would be to listen to yourself and get help when you need. There is no shame in that.

Go strong,

Zak