ED
My oldest daugter battled, I pray is winning, against an Eating Disorder. Those of us unfortunate enough to be affected by this refer to it as ED. We personalize ED into a man with a vice-like grip on a brain. The man concept is not to antagonize the less fair sex or be a raging feminist whirling a three hook Jane Seymour Cross Your Heart Bra. He's not only a bully, he's a tyrant. He appears, according to most research as a result of a trigger, it could be a comment about weight, a break up, a transition, divorce, or for no recognizable reason at all. He plants himself in the brain of the victim and takes over.
As a parents my first reaction to learning of my daughter's eating disorder was standing at the stove, making dinner and hearing her say, "I think I have an eating disorder." How I could go back in time and kick my own ass. My reaction, "That is not good, you need to eat. I'm telling you to stop it." The reality of the situation was this brave girl of 16 walked into the kitchen with her capture holding a gun to her head, but still told me she needed help. It will always be my lowest moment. If you take one thing away from this, take away to take it seriously.
We endured screaming matches, vomiting at the dinning room table, 24 hour watch, bathroom observations, sleeping in the same room, measuring food, meal planning, more screaming. We struggled for months and I couldn't believe that I had taken our years of Cleaver-Family-Bliss for granted. We were in the throws of hell, my husband, my youngest daughter and I only knew what we were going through. I remember one evening after a dining room table vomit episode, my youngest said, "I shouldn't be going through this, I'm only 13." Damn. It shattered us to pieces. She went to work with me every day, 24/7 care. My husband would wake before dawn to take her to the New England Eating Disorder Program in Portland - a group of the most amazing people you've seen - they are angels, each and every one of them.
When we personified ED is when we went Kill Bill on him. We knew he was there and it was a matter of finding our daughter, grabbing her arm and pulling her away from him. There were times when I could see her, the light in her eyes had been out for so long but I'd see a glimmer, "Grab my hand!! Come on!! We're here, but it's up to you!!" It was an abusive relationship where the abused needs to say, "Enough, fuck you, I'm out of here."
As parents we'd put our heads on a blade for our children but the recognizing a need and reaching out to help, aid and encourage is the first order of business. We need to keep our eyes open, our noses keen on scents of need and be there.
She's doing well now. I'm proud of her, she's battled like no warrior I've heard of and she kicked ass. My youngest suffered the consequences of having a sibling with a disorder and I hug her a lot, not enough. She spent endless hours crying in her room wishing it all away and I can't give her back that time. My husband was tamed by the experience and I love my family with all my heart.
As a parents my first reaction to learning of my daughter's eating disorder was standing at the stove, making dinner and hearing her say, "I think I have an eating disorder." How I could go back in time and kick my own ass. My reaction, "That is not good, you need to eat. I'm telling you to stop it." The reality of the situation was this brave girl of 16 walked into the kitchen with her capture holding a gun to her head, but still told me she needed help. It will always be my lowest moment. If you take one thing away from this, take away to take it seriously.
We endured screaming matches, vomiting at the dinning room table, 24 hour watch, bathroom observations, sleeping in the same room, measuring food, meal planning, more screaming. We struggled for months and I couldn't believe that I had taken our years of Cleaver-Family-Bliss for granted. We were in the throws of hell, my husband, my youngest daughter and I only knew what we were going through. I remember one evening after a dining room table vomit episode, my youngest said, "I shouldn't be going through this, I'm only 13." Damn. It shattered us to pieces. She went to work with me every day, 24/7 care. My husband would wake before dawn to take her to the New England Eating Disorder Program in Portland - a group of the most amazing people you've seen - they are angels, each and every one of them.
When we personified ED is when we went Kill Bill on him. We knew he was there and it was a matter of finding our daughter, grabbing her arm and pulling her away from him. There were times when I could see her, the light in her eyes had been out for so long but I'd see a glimmer, "Grab my hand!! Come on!! We're here, but it's up to you!!" It was an abusive relationship where the abused needs to say, "Enough, fuck you, I'm out of here."
As parents we'd put our heads on a blade for our children but the recognizing a need and reaching out to help, aid and encourage is the first order of business. We need to keep our eyes open, our noses keen on scents of need and be there.
She's doing well now. I'm proud of her, she's battled like no warrior I've heard of and she kicked ass. My youngest suffered the consequences of having a sibling with a disorder and I hug her a lot, not enough. She spent endless hours crying in her room wishing it all away and I can't give her back that time. My husband was tamed by the experience and I love my family with all my heart.
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