Sitting in the doctor's office with my 15-year-old son, I wanted to scream in fear and frustration. For months, my husband and I had watched as our popular, sporty teenager had been disappearing in front of our eyes – literally. Once a star on the rugby pitch with a muscular physique, now clothes hung off Ben's bony frame. If he wasn't exercising obsessively, he was actively avoiding his friends. Mealtimes were becoming an exhausting and distressing battleground, my increasingly desperate pleas for him to eat unable to cut through his irrational claims that he was getting 'obese'. It was clear to me and his father that Ben needed help. And yet neither Ben nor the GP seemed willing, or able, to accept there was a problem. 'He's just a slim, sporty lad,' the doctor said, leaving me feeling like an overprotective, neurotic mother. Admittedly, the GP hadn't known my son before he lost a quarter of his body weight in just three months. But I believe it was also ignorance that anorexia can strike both sexes. I, too, had never thought about boys having eating disorders until my own son became ill, assuming like so many parents that it only affected girls. Yet according to the eating disorders charity Beat, approximately 1.25million people in the UK have an eating disorder – and over 25 per cent are male. I fear delays in recognising when boys are struggling mean many are reaching the point where, like Ben, they require emergency hospital care – and, in the worst cases, are even losing their lives. Though it's tricky to pinpoint exactly when Ben's issues began, it became obvious something was wrong during a summer holiday in France. Until then Ben had loved food; from a Sunday roast to curries, you name it, he ate it. If my husband Paul and I left anything on our plates when we went out for meals, he'd hoover up the leftovers, and he'd raid the fridge after school. The three of us were a tight-knit unit and we loved family holidays. But where Ben used to muck around in the pool, during that French holiday he swam up to 100 lengths at a time and would be out for a run the moment he'd eaten what vaguely passed for breakfast. The croissants and fresh baguettes he'd always loved were replaced by fruit, and he wouldn't touch ice cream. At first, Paul and I admired his dedication, assuming he was preparing for the Year 11 rugby season in September. But Ben didn't let up when we got back home. As the summer progressed he not only became a regular at our local gym, near Leeds, but ran miles every day and exercised in his bedroom, doing sit-ups and press-ups – up to 100 at a time – on repeat. Ben started 're-inventing' recipes by removing as much fat and carbohydrates as possible. He'd cook spaghetti Bolognese by dry-frying low-fat mince, then tipping it on to kitchen paper to absorb any oil. When I tried to discuss it, he'd tell me we all needed to eat more healthily – that we'd been 'eating too much rubbish'. But his weight plummeted (I will never disclose figures) and when we hugged, I noticed his athletic build was disappearing and instead his body felt bony. We also became aware Ben was alienating himself from his friends, bowing out of the sleepovers and hangouts he'd always loved and spending more time alone in his room. Gradually, vicious mood swings replaced my lovely boy's even temper and he became increasingly irrational, telling me 'Look at all this disgusting fat!' while pinching the loose skin on his belly. Returning to school that September, his rugby coach was shocked at the dramatic change in his physique and moved him to a less physically demanding position. Meanwhile the school nurse called me, concerned, to say Ben was exercising excessively in the school gym. When my mother-in-law came to stay that month, she too was alarmed by Ben's skinny appearance and erratic behaviour, confirming our growing fears when she said: 'You need to get him to a doctor, this isn't normal.' But, as is common with those in the grips of an eating disorder, Ben denied anything was wrong, accusing me of making it up. Perhaps blinded by Ben's gender, the GP accepted his version of events rather than mine. I spent October to-ing and fro-ing to the surgery, desperate to be taken seriously. Reading up on eating disorders, I was terrified to discover they have the highest mortality rate of any psychiatric disorder. Yet it seemed nobody would help me – and my son was fading away. Where once he'd devoured pasta and shepherd's pie, now he survived on vegetables, which he'd carefully weigh out. His refusal to eat struck at the core of me as a mum. There's an inbuilt, primal need for mothers to feed and nourish their children. But when you can't even do that one basic thing, it's devastating. After another month the school nurse called again and suggested I get Ben an urgent appointment with the NHS Child and Adolescent Mental Health Services (CAMHS). Paul, who was working away as an engineering contractor, phoned our GP and demanded an immediate referral. To my horror, CAMHS said Ben would be placed on a waiting list for an assessment – not even treatment – and we might have to wait up to six months. I feared we didn't have that long. Ben was declining rapidly, both physically and mentally; he had a public meltdown when attempting to choose a sandwich in a shop and another in a pub when the lowest-calorie meal on the menu turned out to be 'swimming in oil'. Where cooking had previously been a joy, now I'd be super-stressed. I'd try to sneak in oils in a desperate bid to get Ben to consume calories while listening intently for the sound of his footsteps approaching to police what I was doing. I even found myself buying two versions of products like yoghurt, one full fat, one zero fat. I'd decant the full fat version into the zero-fat pot, petrified I'd be found out. One tiny 'mistake' could result in him throwing food across the dining room as I pleaded with him to eat. Shortly before Christmas we paid to see a private therapist, who tried to help but said Ben desperately needed specialist treatment through CAMHS. It was one of the lowest points of my life, knowing there was a very real risk Ben could die from anorexia and I couldn't find a way to help him. Worried about the stigma around eating disorders – that people would think it was something we'd done wrong – I also felt I couldn't open up to other mum friends. It was a lonely time. The following month Ben was admitted to hospital after an emergency call from school. Anorexia is linked to bradycardia, a dangerously low heartbeat, and his heart rate was just 29 beats per minute; the average resting heart rate for a 15-year-old is around 77. I was aghast when the consultant put it down to him being sporty, claiming it's not unusual for athletes to have low heart rates. He wouldn't listen when I explained my son had anorexia. I was devastated. I immediately rang CAMHS and insisted they see him urgently. When they called me back with an appointment for the following week, I finally felt there may be a glimmer of hope. But it was short lived. Ben's anorexia actually worsened during the first six months of treatment, which was mainly about talking him into wanting to recover. Weighed at the start of each session, if he'd gained even a tiny amount he'd take it out on me afterwards, yelling and hitting things. As Paul was working away, I was the one who bore the brunt of Ben's anger. Ben would do his utmost to lose any weight gain before the next session, shouting: 'I'm fat! I don't need all this food you're forcing me to eat.' But after an outburst, we'd sit on the sofa. I'd wrap my arm around him, while he'd sob or curl up in a ball as I chatted softly, trying to get to the heart of his troubles while encouraging him to believe he was strong enough to overcome them. It was heartbreaking, as I could tell deep inside Ben was desperate to get better. A year after I'd first taken him to the doctors – by this time we'd had to completely pull him out of school – he ended up in hospital again with a dangerously low pulse. The police had to be called when he fought with medical and security staff trying to prevent him from discharging himself. CAMHS told Ben that if he didn't follow the treatment plan, they'd have to admit him to an eating disorders unit. With the threat of hospitalisation, Ben desperately tried to engage in therapy. However, come January three months later, he was still losing weight. The turning point finally came that Easter when I discovered some recovery methods that were working for families in the US via the online forum FEAST (Families Empowered and Supporting Treatment of Eating Disorders). There seemed to be good evidence for an approach that focuses on prioritising weight restoration first, then addressing other difficulties – as opposed to the approach Ben had been having which was all about trying to get him to 'want to recover' first. Also, crucially, in the US approach the whole family is involved at every stage. CAMHS agreed to see if something like this would make any difference. With Ben's agreement, we developed a 'contract' based on rewards and incentives, a means of providing gentle encouragement for Ben to make lasting changes. He earned points for progress, such as if he'd eaten something he called a 'fear food', like a small chocolate bar. The points translated into cash towards an Xbox. He was still a teenage boy at heart! The contract was also about learning to socialise with his friends again. Putting limits on exercise was another factor. Reflecting now, Ben says the contract was the thing that helped him more than anything else, because it focused on positives and tiny, slow steps. As time went on his motivation became less financial and more about feeling stronger, healthier and more positive. He started widening the foods he'd eat to include crisps or a small cake – foods that had once been horrifying to him. The switch from skimmed to semi-skimmed milk was a triumph. I was also much more involved in his sessions, rather than being left in the waiting room. Working as a team, he was so much calmer, rather than being at loggerheads with me all the time. We began to understand that Ben's eating disorder triggers had been rooted in primary school, where he'd had a bit of puppy fat, prompting one of the boys to bully him. At senior school Ben had discovered his flair for rugby, naturally losing weight and gaining muscle. But by Year Nine, he wanted to spend more time with his friends. However, he was terrified if he gave up sport he'd end up as that chubby, bullied boy again – and to compensate, he'd have to cut down on food and exercise more. Although social media, with its endless images of 'perfect' male and female bodies, wasn't so prevalent when Ben became ill in 2009, there were still Adonis-like male models featured on the pages of men's fitness magazines, which he wanted to emulate. Of course, in reality the eating disorder stole his confidence and his muscles wasted away. Ben turned 18 at Christmas 2011, meaning he was no longer eligible for CAHMS. I was shocked to see that, on discharge, his weight was the same as when his treatment had begun two years earlier, though it had dropped hugely in between. From that point onwards it was just Ben and me, along with the amazing support I got from other parents on the FEAST forum, many based in the UK. Ben made it to university in September 2012, but he hadn't recovered sufficiently to cope. Within a week, he was back home and we spent the next year working really hard together to overcome his illness. He returned to Sheffield University the following September, where the student support teams made sure he had the help he needed. Gradually, he integrated into student life and after graduating with a First in history, he stayed on to study for an MA. Finally, after seven years, I felt I could breathe again. Ben went on to gain an MSc in psychology in 2021, specialising in compassion-focused therapy – the style that helped him. Paul and I could barely hold back our tears of pride at his graduation. After all, his illness changed us, too. Before Ben became ill, I'd been a successful copywriter, active on the school PTA, someone who went to the gym and took care of my appearance. But normal life stops when your child has anorexia and you inevitably become laser-focused on trying to save their life. Thankfully, Ben hasn't suffered any lasting physical damage. Today, he is an amazing young man who works in a residential mental health facility, using his experiences to help others. I'm fully retired now but through my blog, book and public speaking, I want to raise awareness of eating disorders in boys and to help other parents get their sons into treatment as quickly as possible. In recent years the number of people suffering with eating disorders has shot up, particularly among boys and men. Speed is crucial; it's proven that the faster they can get a diagnosis, the more likely they are to recover. Leave it too long and the risk of death through heart failure, suicide or starvation vastly increases. But above all, I want other parents who find themselves in this terrifying position to know there really can be hope and recovery, even when facing what often feels like the darkest of illnesses. Please Eat... A Mother's Struggle To Free Her Teenage Son From Anorexia by Bev Mattocks (£12.99 amazon.co.uk) bevmattocks.co.uk feast-ed.org As told to Sadie Nicholas