It’s a good question and it kind of makes me feel uncomfortable, to be honest. No one should do anything. I paused on this question and, of course, like with any human element, there is complexity.
Firstly, what I find uncomfortable is asking for help in this context. I am fully aware of the economics in which we are living. This is a big ask, in a vulnerable economic time.
I also feel like it’s quite an egoic question. Why should someone, and possibly people that I don’t know, contribute towards my career growth? Especially when there are people who would benefit more than me. Or is this impostor syndrome, and is it quite normal to have to explain my reason why?
There is a fine line between arrogance and self-confidence, so perhaps I’ll shift the narrative and tell you a little about who I am and what my plans are.
My plan is to use this qualification in order to become a more credible and effective clinician, to study highly intensive Cognitive Behavioural Therapy (one cannot do this in South Africa), and to broaden my scope of practice to include anxiety, phobias, OCD and trauma.
Why?
For 8 years I have dedicated my career to helping individuals recover from eating disorders. In this time, I have realised that almost all eating disorders include tendencies rooted in anxiety or OCD. Often, after doing the work to heal from the eating disorder, the person is left with a stand-alone anxiety disorder. Which one came first? Does it matter?
I want to be able to harness these skills in order to treat the person in their entirety.
So many eating disorders, and so many anxiety disorders, have ties to trauma. It goes without saying that understanding this more deeply from a clinical perspective would give me the ability to navigate the “never linear” recovery journey with greater confidence and competence.
Perhaps it is easier to give a glimpse into what in can feel like recovery from an eating disorder…
It looks like waking up exhausted because your first thought of the day is food, and your last thought at night is food too.
It looks like missing conversations because your mind is busy calculating, comparing and worrying.
It looks like wanting to be present with the people you love, while simultaneously feeling trapped inside your own head.
It looks like someone sitting in front of a meal that terrifies them, while everyone else at the table sees “just food.”
It looks like someone spending every waking hour negotiating with a voice in their head that tells them they are not good enough, not disciplined enough, not thin enough.
It looks like someone cancelling dinners, holidays, birthdays, relationships, careers and opportunities because anxiety has become so loud that it dictates every decision.
It looks like a person who desperately wants freedom, while simultaneously being terrified of what freedom might mean.
What many people do not realise is that eating disorders affect both men and women from all walks of life. They do not discriminate based on age, profession, intelligence or background.
At their core, they are often profoundly isolating illnesses. There is shame in admitting that food, exercise, body image or rituals have begun to take up so much mental space. There is shame in feeling unable to simply “stop”. As a result, many people suffer quietly for years.
Over time, the eating disorder can become woven into a person’s way of coping with the world. The behaviours may begin as an attempt to manage anxiety, create a sense of control or numb difficult emotions. Eventually, it becomes difficult to separate where the person ends and where the illness begins.
Recovery is rarely about changing eating behaviours alone. It involves helping someone develop new ways of managing fear and building tolerance for uncertainty, distress and vulnerability. It requires them to let go of coping strategies that may have felt protective for many years, even when those same strategies are causing significant suffering.
And often, after the eating disorder symptoms begin to improve, what remains is the anxiety.
The obsessive thinking.
The compulsions.
The panic.
The trauma.
The need for certainty in an uncertain world.
Perhaps that is why I have found this fundraising journey so uncomfortable. I know there are many worthy causes in the world. But I also know that every person who has trusted me with their recovery over the past decade has shaped the clinician I am today. I like to look at further education as an investment into every person I will have the privilege of helping in the years ahead.
And perhaps that is my why.
If you would like to support my Oxford journey, you can find my BackaBuddy campaign here:
https://www.backabuddy.co.za/campaign/a-therapist-a-mother-a-dream-help-her-get-there
Thank you for reading.
Proud of you for writing this!!