The Backstory: From there to now

Although I was given the go-ahead to return to my PhD in October 2014, I knew that I had really only just 'sneaked in' by nudging my weight up to the minimum requirement at the last minute. The understanding was that this was only a 'baseline' and that I would steadily improve on it over the course of the year. At the back of my mind, I knew this was only sensible. But as soon as I started work again, this voice became squashed. My health took a backseat as I became sucked into my PhD project.

I was deeply ashamed at having had to take a 'a year out'. It hurt to see those who had started their PhDs at the same time as me now so far ahead. I felt I had to work twice as hard to make up for the time I had wasted. I would plan ambitious experiments, involving hundreds of plants, to find a significant result. But as everyone knows, working hard is only one part of the PhD equation - you need a lot of luck as well. I was determined to make my project a success and as far as I could see this depended on publishing as many scientific papers as possible. Perhaps I went to a few too many careers workshops, but I became fixated on the idea that publishing was the only thing that mattered: if you don't publish at least 3 papers during your PhD, then you don't stand a chance of getting a Fellowship - the fast-track to becoming a Professor. I became increasingly frustrated with every inconclusive result and reasoned it was because I was too lazy: If I did more experiments, I would have more data and would then surely find something. So I planned even more experiments, packing  into my days, extending into evenings and weekends. Things became so hectic that if I was held up by even half an hour, I would panic about fitting everything in. Even when my supervisor asked me to calm things down, I wouldn't listen.

It didn't help that I was rapidly isolating myself from the rest of the lab. I felt like an outsider that people didn't understand: after all, I had literally disappeared for the best part of year due to 'health reasons' which I had never really discussed with them. I didn't feel worthy of socialising with them, and would hide myself in the office at lunchtimes. I felt unable to ask for help even when my experiments started to stretch out to hours and hours at a time.

My weight started to creep down and I was too distracted to put in the effort to bring it back up. Part of me also didn't want to - 'Anna' still had a grip in my mind, making me see weight loss as a good thing. I had regular monitoring appointments at the medical centre, and my GP kept reminding me that I had to get back on track. I would nod in agreement but my mind was already back with my plants, fretting about the time I was 'wasting' here when I could be doing experiments.

Things steadily piled up and I was finding it harder and harder to cope. Life was hectic and busy with little chance to rest. Besides my work, I had taken on a host of other things to 'enhance my CV' : French lessons, committees, writing work, volunteering etc. And of course, going to the gym every day as well. I know now that once my weight goes under a critical threshold, I find it that much harder to cope when things go wrong - especially if I am chronically sleep deprived. At that time even the slightest thing would send me to pieces. I was breaking down almost every day and it was increasingly difficult to hide it from others. But I convinced myself that they didn't really notice, or care. Eventually, my supervisor suggested that perhaps I should take a months' leave of absence to readjust myself and get some perspective. I was shocked by the suggestion, but immediately dismissed the idea.

Shortly after this, a critical event happened when I had a big infection job to do on my plants. I hated this as it meant long hours on my feet carefully painting the seeds of the parasitic plant I was studying onto the roots of each host plant with a paintbrush. I planned to finish it in the morning within three and a half hours maximum, in time for another experiment that afternoon. But it took longer and longer - four hours...five hours....I tried to speed up but my eyes were so sore that I could barely see and I kept making mistakes. I began to panic - I wouldn't finish in time! I wouldn't be able to do my experiment in the afternoon! It would all fall apart - I would NEVER SUCCEED and it would all be a failure! I wouldn't be able to have the career I wanted! And I still had so many plants left to do... I had a complete nervous breakdown. Fortunately one of my lab colleagues found me; she tried to lead me back to the lab but I couldn't go - I was a sobbing, gibbering wreck, but I couldn't leave my plants . So she helped me to finish and clear everything away.

When my supervisor asked to see me just after this happened, I was certain that she was going to force me to take a month of leave. But the news was much worse - the Departmental committee felt that my mental and physical condition had deteriorated too much for one month of leave to have any affect. There were two options: I would be asked to leave, or have to take another year-long leave of absence. The decision would be made next week at a review meeting. I was completely stunned and numbed from within. All I could think to do was carry on with my experiments while I waited. But I did prepare a statement for my meeting where I acknowledged that things had gone too far and that I was determined to change things if only I could be given another chance.

It was a long meeting and I felt like a convicted criminal awaiting their fate as I sat outside while they discussed my case. Eventually I was allowed inside to hear the verdict. I could return - but only after another year of leave. I was humbled that the University still wanted to keep me on, but I still had a lot of fall-out to deal with. First, I had to clear out my lab bench and throw away my plants. Then I had to break the news to my parents, who had had no idea how bad things had become and were shocked. Then I had to find a job, to pay for my upkeep in the meantime.

I sank into a depression , having been cut off completely from my work and social life. Searching for a job kept me going but it quickly became dispiriting when my applications were consistently rejected or ignored. I tried everything - shop assistant, communications roles, sandwich maker for Subway, care worker, cleaner - all for nothing. I managed to do a bit of private tutoring through an agency in the meantime but the pay was very low and I had to spend hours preparing the lessons and then travelling on the bus to get to clients. I began to get preoccupied with money and how I was going to cope for the whole year.

About this time, I started the blog Walk of Witness. I knew that I needed to make some big changes in my life and I wanted a way to make sure that I followed up on my intentions. When it comes to talking my anorexia, I can be very good at saying I will do something, but then never following up on it. So my blog was intended to be a way of making myself accountable to the actions I had decided to take.

Out of the blue, I finally got a job as a science technician at a local college, three days a week. It was quite a way out of the city on the tram, but I didn't care -I finally had a job, and a proper wage! It felt like a baptism of fire though; I arrived right in the middle of a busy term to find the prep rooms in an appalling state. I managed to impose some sort of order and started to get to grips with making up bacterial plates, preparing dissections and working out what all the physics equipment was...

A new activity for me - resistance training

Now that I had found a job, I could now start to address my mental and physical health. I was willing to take treatment that could challenge my thoughts but there didn't seem to be any option of doing this though the NHS. There was one therapist I felt a strong rapport with but I was told that I needed to be a higher BMI before I could be allowed to work with them. Eventually I gave up on getting any real help and just focused on the weight target. I now saw my illness not as something I would ever eventually throw off completely, but as a burden I was stuck with for the rest of my life and would just have to manage. The only thing that happened in my appointments was that I would be weighed and asked what changes I was going to make next in my diet. This did at least force me to make some targets for weight gain and stick to them, as I couldn't leave the sessions without deciding on some action points.

Nevertheless, I did manage to make big changes to my exercise regime. As detailed in this blog, I was introduced to M, a trainer at the gym who specialises in body-building and weight training. With his help, I swapped some of my cardio sessions for resistance work and began to put some muscle on my puny arms. I started to appreciate my body for what it could do, rather than get so obsessed about the numbers on the scale. I invested more time in the week for rest and enjoyable activities, like painting. I began to feel stronger and more capable, and to cope better when things didn't go to plan. In May/June, I challenged myself to do a four-day hike in the Lake District which I had seen in a magazine, which involved carrying a heavy pack hostel-to-hostel over fifty miles. I was thrilled with how well my body coped - it was a real sign to me of how far I had come.

I carried on writing wherever I could - blogs, science magazines, work for learned societies, etc. As I learned more about the different types of science-communication jobs out there, I began to let go of my dream of becoming a Professor. I know now that I am not really cut out for academia, or as one friend put it "academia isn't really cut out for me". I know there are lots of other opportunities that are still connected to science but tailored more to my own interests. And yet I am determined to finish my PhD as it is still my greatest desire to complete my very own research project and to show that I can work as a full-time researcher. After all being paid to plan experiments that investigate the unknown is rather wonderful.

So here I am - the end of a long, strange, rollercoaster year where I feel that I have learnt many things even though I haven't really moved forward in my PhD journey. All I want now is to be a normal student and to just be able to get on with the job until it is finished.

Graduation day - if I ever get there - is going to be quite special indeed!