The Chatanooga Pulse
Polly Williams tried to kill herself after eating two slices of pizza.
For most people, two slices of pizza mean “lunch.” But for Williams and the one in seven American women suffering from eating disorders, food is the portal into a constricting universe of mental anguish. For Williams, however, it also meant an appearance in a major motion picture.
It was after the suicide attempt that the 29-year-old Chattanooga woman knew that she had a problem. So she checked herself into the Renfrew Center, a 40-bed clinic in Coconut Creek, Florida, that treats women suffering from anorexia and bulimia. Also at Renfrew in 2004 was filmmaker Lauren Greenfield, who was shooting a documentary called Thin. Williams signed the release forms, and Greenfield’s cameras sought out the most private moments of her disease.
Williams’ role was no rosy therapeutic journey. She was kicked out of Renfrew for giving pills to a fellow patient, and for getting a tattoo. And in the middle of being ostracized from her new home, she allowed the cameras to follow her as she purged a meal.
Thin, which premiered at the Sundance Film Festival earlier this year, is debuting November 14 on HBO. And Polly Williams, now working as a J.C. Penney photographer, is ready to talk about her experience making the movie – and remaking her life. Looking gamine and pretty under a black beret and green sweater, she tells her story over a cup of Starbucks coffee.
The Pulse: How did Lauren Greenfield find you?
Williams: I was in treatment at the Renfrew Center, and had been there for about six weeks, when HBO came in with a crew. And they were going to do a documentary on eating disorders. Of course, you signed whether or not you were willing to be a part of it, and I thought about it and decided that I would be. I never figured I’d end up being one of the main four [subjects], but I did.
The Pulse: What made you decide that you wanted to be in it?
Williams: Because anorexia, as well as the other eating disorders, they’re so common, but people know so little about them. It was a challenge for me because I’m such a private person, but I felt that telling my story would help other people – maybe help a parent see that their child is heading that direction, or help an individual see, “Hey, I think I’m heading in this direction.” If it helps somebody speak up and get help, then it’s worth it.
The Pulse: You allowed the filmmakers to get really close to you during some pretty difficult times. What was that like?
Williams: Of course, in the beginning it was awkward. But after a few days, I really didn’t even notice the cameras were there, for the most part. It was all about building trust. One of the ways that Lauren – as well as Amanda [Micheli], who was the cinematographer – [built trust] is that the camera wasn’t rolling all the time. We talked a lot off camera. Also, at any point in time when I felt uncomfortable, I could ask them to turn the camera off. There were occasions when I said, “No. Turn the camera off.” They were looking out for my best interests, as well, and I see that. The whole fact that we had such an open communication, and I was in control of whether or not we filmed. We got to know each other. I wasn’t just a subject. I wasn’t just an anorexic. I was a person, and they knew that.
The Pulse: They were up with you at night, that kind of thing.
Williams: Yeah. At the end of the film, of course, I get kicked out. When I was given my notice, the staff of the Renfrew Center – when I was handed that notice, it was like I wasn’t there. They had already let me go. And I was a wreck. I mean, I was crushed. I knew I’d broken the rules, and I accepted that, but I felt like that it was handled a little bit more harsh than it could have been. If it hadn’t been for the HBO crew, I wouldn’t have eaten. ‘Cause the staff, like I said, they didn’t come approach me or check on me or anything. Lauren and Amanda, they kind of became resolved and were like, “C’mon, let’s go eat.” I felt like a pariah, because none of the girls would talk to me. Or most of the girls wouldn’t. So I sat at the table with the HBO crew, and they were the ones that encouraged me to eat – and actually spent the night. That last night, she stayed there to make sure that I was okay and to be there for me. And that meant the world. During that last 24 hours, you see [in Thin] a lot of drama and a lot that’s going on, but there was also so much more. Because they knew that this was a horrible time in my life, a horrible moment, and they themselves also turned the camera off a lot of times. Because I was just a wreck.
The Pulse: What was it like to see the finished movie?
Williams: The first time I saw it was before the Sundance Film Festival. Lauren and I met in Johnson City, which is where I’m from originally, and she and I watched the film together, just the two of us. Then I attended the Sundance Film Festival, so I saw it numerous times there. It was really weird, seeing it the very first time. Actually, I cried – and I laughed, both. Seeing [15-year-old] Brittany [Robinson]’s story really touched me and had me in tears. I was kind of like the big sister to Brittany at the facility. You don’t see a lot of that, because that was before the film crew came in. So seeing her hurting really was hard. There were a few times when I looked at Lauren and laughed: I was like, “I don’t even remember that!” I was very heavily medicated while I was there. Like I said, there were times that I did laugh. And times that I did cry. It was hard seeing myself purge. It brought that day back, and I just remember being angry and upset and hurt and ashamed.
The Pulse: Having watched the movie, do you feel like it’s an accurate depiction of eating disorders?
Williams: I really do. It’s not an easy film to watch, and it’s not for everybody. You see the struggles, the hardships, the difficulties with eating, and the emotions – it’s not just about the eating; there’s so much more to it. But you also see that we’re human. And you do see us laughing and having a good time. I want to be known for me, and not just [as] an anorexic. It doesn’t define who I am. But when you’re deep in the heart of it, a lot of times it does.
Polly williams smokes a cigarette illicitly in her bathroom at the Renfrew Center for the treatment of eating disorders. Polly came to Renfrew after a suicide attempt triggered by eating tow pieces of pizza.
Lauren Greenfield
The Pulse: Can you explain what it’s like to be in the middle of battling anorexia?
Williams: It depends on what stage you’re in. I am struggling right now. My weight is down, but I’m working on getting it back up. When I was at my worst, I didn’t admit I had anorexia. It didn’t matter how sick I was or how thin I was, how much work I was missing from being ill – I was not sick. I was fat. That’s all I saw when I looked in the mirror. I was fat, and I needed to lose weight. And I felt like my entire life was out of control, that I couldn’t do anything right. I found dieting – that was something I had that nobody could take away from me and I was in control of. I didn’t have to worry about anything else. It would take up so much of my mind that I wouldn’t have to worry about other problems. All I had to worry about was my weight. But once you finally hit rock bottom, you either die or you make the choice to try to live. And I made the choice to try to live – and to live, and get help.
Recovery’s very difficult. Recovery doesn’t happen overnight. You don’t leave the treatment facility and you’re recovered. It’s not a quick fix, unfortunately. When I got out of Renfrew, I participated in a 10-week program that they have here in Chattanooga, called Solace. It’s an intensive outpatient program designed specifically for eating disorders. It saved my life. That program right there saved my life. If I hadn’t gone through that program, I probably would have immediately have relapsed after Renfrew, and there’s no telling what would have happened to me. And I’ve had relapses since getting out of Renfrew, but my therapist and my nutritionist – who are part of the Solace program – have been there for me, and I’ve gone back to Solace numerous times. I have a foundation there. I have somewhere I can go back to.
The Pulse: Do you feel that making the movie in some way helped you in this process?
Williams: I really do. At the time, I didn’t really think much about it. And there were times after I left Renfrew when I called Lauren and said, “I changed my mind. I don’t want to do it.” And we would talk about it. Even after the filming was done, it was always my decision whether or not to do it. But I see the film and I have no regrets whatsoever for having done it. For one thing, like I said, I’ve always been a very private person, and so this was a challenge for me. And I think that aided in my recovery, because it made me able to speak up and share my feelings. I was not somebody who was good at sharing my feelings. I mean, you could ask me how I felt and I wouldn’t know, I wouldn’t be able to put words to it. And also it’s such a horrible disease that I would not wish on my worst enemy, and trying to make sense, there’s a lot of “why me?” in the eating-disorder world. And I look at it as trying to take something that’s awful, and find something positive to do with it. Doing the film, I think that’s something positive. If it helps one person, then it’s been worth it.