Читать книгу Coming Clean - Living with OCD - Hayley Leitch - Страница 9
ОглавлениеIT HAD BEEN Dad’s idea to take us all out for a meal.
‘That’ll be nice,’ Mum agreed as she sent us upstairs to get changed.
It was a large, traditional family pub which looked just like a country cottage from the outside. It was nice and homely inside with plush red velvet seats, a dark red carpet and lines of neat wooden tables. Pretend candle-style lampshades hung from the walls gently lighting each table booth. The place was packed because it was a Saturday night, but Dad had insisted we go because he wanted to treat us, even Nanny Linda. As soon as we walked in we were herded over to a special rope barrier until a waitress showed us to our table. I was really excited because back then going out for a meal was a pretty expensive thing to do. Moments later, we sat down. The laminated menu felt huge in my hands as my eyes scanned it, trying to read all the stuff. There were lots of things to choose from but I was a typical kid and all I wanted was something plain and simple, so I chose burger and chips. Dad placed our order adding a huge starter platter for everyone to share. As soon as it arrived my eyes widened because it was crammed with everything from chicken wings to potato skins and sour cream – I’d never seen so much food. Mum leaned across the table, picked up mine and Lauren’s plates and placed a few things on each. I’d always had a small appetite and the starter filled me up quickly so, when I saw the waitress approach with my main meal I was worried how I’d manage it all.
‘Ooh, yours looks good,’ Lauren commented as the waitress placed the plate in front of me.
As I stared at it, my stomach cramped and knotted. There were too many chips and the burger was so massive I wondered how I’d eat it all. Just the thought of it inside my mouth made me feel queasy. Picking up a bottle of tomato ketchup, I poured some on my plate but as soon as I picked up my fork, I started to feel really self-conscious, as though everyone inside the pub was watching. I glanced down at my plate. The burger looked nice enough but I was worried how I’d fit it in inside my mouth.
What if all the insides come spurting out across my chin? I thought randomly. My body shuddered as the image whirred around inside my head.
It’d look horrible and disgusting. I’d look disgusting and everyone would see.
Suddenly, I’d lost my appetite – now I felt sick with nerves. I put my fork down and stole a quick glance.
Was anyone watching?
Of course, no one was but it wasn’t enough to calm my fear.
They’ll all watch me try to eat this and I’ll look really ugly. Everyone here will think how ugly I look.
I was thankful there wasn’t a mirror nearby because I didn’t want to catch a glimpse of myself trying to eat. My stomach felt all knotted up inside and my mouth was bone dry. The burger didn’t even feel like food anymore, just a huge mountain I’d have to climb. I looked at it but I didn’t feel hungry, I just felt frightened.
The burger is so big that if I put in my mouth, it’ll just spill out everywhere.
My throat seized up as if something was slowly squeezing the life out of me. Panic set in as my pulse began to race. I wiped my hands against my dress, they felt clammy too. I tried not to imagine myself eating but I couldn’t help it. I’d look horrible – with my face contorted and greedy – even the thought of it made me feel sick. My breath became shallow and laboured as the room started to swim. The sudden dizziness combined with hot smells from other people’s food hit my nostrils and made my stomach turn but I didn’t want to say anything because I didn’t want to spoil the big night out. Mum looked up, she realised I wasn’t eating and asked if something was wrong.
‘No,’ I lied, straightening up in my seat.
But everything was wrong. I tried to act normal. I picked up my fork and stabbed randomly at a chip but it took all the strength I had just to lift it up towards my mouth. I had to take a bite but something was stopping me, like an invisible force. My eyes anxiously darted around to check if anyone was watching. I expected to find the whole restaurant staring straight back at me, but no one was because they were far too busy chatting and eating. Even though I knew it was crazy, the fear refused to go away. Seconds later, my heart quickened and started to race as I tried my best to take a bite. I had to do it – I had to eat something before someone noticed. I saw Lauren tucking into her dinner and felt envious.
Why couldn’t I be normal like my sister? Why couldn’t I just eat my food?
But the fear was real and it was still there choking me. My heart thumped as bile rose up inside my throat. I tried to breathe as I lifted the burger up towards my mouth. The bread bun felt slippery, hot and greasy between my fingers. Even the smell of it made me want to heave.
You have to do this, you can’t ruin everyone’s night.
As the food drew closer to my face I could feel the heat as steam brushed against my skin. I closed my eyes and tried to focus. Blood whooshed inside my brain and I felt hot and prickly as I forced myself to take a miniscule bite. The bread crushed against my teeth and stuck to the roof of my mouth which made my stomach contract. I knew I was going to be sick. My eyes darted around, looking for something to spit my food into. I saw a red napkin and spat the burger into it.
‘I think I’m going to be sick,’ I gasped as I ran towards the ladies loo.
Mum dashed after me. I’d just made it to the toilet when I vomited so hard that sick came out of both my nostrils and my mouth.
‘Hayley, what’s wrong?’ Mum asked holding my hair away from my face.
But I couldn’t answer. All I knew was I felt worse than I’d ever felt in my entire life. My insides twisted as my stomach muscles heaved. Finally they stopped contracting and the sickness subsided. Mum wrapped an arm around my shoulder.
‘Come on, love.’
She turned me towards her and, with a wad of toilet tissue, mopped both my face and hands.
‘Here, let’s get you over to the sink. You can splash your face with cold water, that’ll make you feel better.’
Mum’s concern was so genuine that it made me feel worse because deep down, I knew it wasn’t the food making me sick, it was me – I’d done it to myself. As the cold water hit my skin, I began to feel better. I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the toilet mirror – my face was pale and pasty. Of course, Mum put the sickness down to a stomach bug, only I knew better. It wasn’t a bug or virus making me sick; it was a fear – a fear of eating out in public. Something inside my mind was making me sick. Just like the urge to jump the fishpond, now it was telling me not to eat food because strangers might be watching me. Now I’d been sick, I felt a whole lot better, if not a little confused. These things kept happening to me but I didn’t know why. Something had told me not to eat the burger, but to jump the fishpond. It wasn’t something I could see or even explain. I couldn’t tell anyone what it was because I didn’t know myself.
How could I tell anyone how frightened I felt? How could I expect anyone else to understand?
‘Maybe you were just too full up, maybe you just ate too much,’ Mum said as we returned to the table. ‘I wouldn’t eat anything else, just in case.’
I nodded. She was right; if I didn’t eat anything else then I wouldn’t be sick. I didn’t want to be ill because I didn’t want to go home. Despite the food, I enjoyed us all being out together because usually Dad was at work. He was a partner in a printing business in London, which he ran with Uncle Peter, so he was almost never home. We only ever saw him for a couple of hours each night before we went to bed. Sometimes, it was almost as though he didn’t live there at all.
After that day, whenever we went out for something to eat I’d panic every time my meal arrived at the table but I never showed my fear. Instead, I taught myself to hide it. I’d pretend to wipe my mouth with a napkin just so I could secretly spit out the food. On other occasions, I’d eat it only to go straight to the toilet where I’d be violently sick. I never ever made myself sick – I didn’t have to – my body was in such a state of panic that it did it for me. But the fear other people were watching me was always there. I’d manage to eat the starter as long as I shared it. I didn’t mind food I could pick at; I just couldn’t eat a whole dinner to myself. As long as I hid my secret then no one would find out and everything would be fine. No one would know because as soon as I was sick, I always felt better.
Back at home I was able to eat normally; I just felt intimidated in a restaurant. It was as though this new fear had stolen my appetite for food and life. I didn’t realise it then, but the fishpond and my new fear of eating in public were the beginnings of something much bigger and it was something which would slowly rule, and all but destroy, my life.
