routerecalculation

If you would have told me a year ago that my life would have taken this route I would have never believed you. I always have thought I’ve had similar struggles other single parents have. Money is tough somtimes, and time can be sparse. I work a little too much and fall asleep in my chair when I should be in bed. How could things go really badly? I don’t drink hardly at all, don’t smoke, never done drugs, don’t party, and don’t really do a whole lot of anything really. Pretty boring eh? I feel fairly normal most days. I struggle with self image and emotional eating, but that doesn’t make me a bad person, right?

Tonight was the orientation for the next school phase for my daughter. High school – hard to believe. We’ve lived in the same town for 23 years, and when you’re in a small town for that long, you end up knowing everyone. You have the same parents around you from when your kids are in preschool, right through to graduation. Usually at these school type things you find the parents of your kids friends, sit together, joke a bit and hang out after while the kids spend time together and have some fun. Of course, being that there are 3 different schools feeding in to this one, I knew there would be a lot of unknowns there, but surely there’d be a familiar face for me to lean on.

Now I know full well there is a stigma that goes with mental health, but I didn’t really ever think that stigma would be turned towards me. I walked in to the gym, no real seats near anyone I knew so I sat alone. I was alone, and yet, I felt as if a thousand eyes were staring at me. “There she is.”“Look, I didn’t think she’d be here”. Actually, not really sure what they were thinking, but if I could have opened up a secret passage and slipped away I would have. First one dad looked at me. No smile, just some quiet words to the mom next to him. The mom looked at me, raised her eyebrows, and gave me a wonderfully toothy fake grin. Another mom looked my way, more than once, giving me that curious glance – should I ask?

It was a tough night. I ended up with a lump in my throat, and decided to wander the halls looking for my son’s grad picture. At least it would give me a warm fuzzy on a night that should have been exciting. All I could think was “How will she handle this?” I felt very sad, and very alone. The other parents went on their tour, and I went on my own.

I guess I just don’t really understand why people judge, and where the stigma comes from. Oh, I know I’m probably guilty of it to. I know I am. The question is, what are we really afraid of?

About every 3 or 4 months, I go and get a hair cut.  I’d probably go more frequently, but I’m a bit of a snob, and my hair dresser isn’t particularly cheap, so I’d rather go less frequently and get something good, then go often and have a disaster on my hands.  I love how it feels to have my hair washed by someone else.  The scalp massage is always wonderful, and having someone comb and play with your hair a bit always feels nice.

I remember when I was in grade 2, our teacher would read to us in story corner every afternoon.  I can even remember the book she read – “The Hobbit, or There and Back Again”.  It was the first time I had been exposed to J.R.R. Tolkien.  All of the kids gathered in the corner, and during that time, I actually felt a little popular.  I had very long curly hair, and the girls would sit and play with it while she read.  It always made me feel good.

There’s something to be said for having a new “do”, or a new outfit, or even cracking open a new colorful tube of lipstick. It’s not that it defines who you are, but it definitely helps you feel a little bit better about yourself.  It’s easy to feel more confident and sure of who you are when you feel good about how you look.

While my daughter was in the hospital, I spent a great deal of time giving manicures, pedicures, and even doing elaborate hair do’s and new colors.  The best part about the whole process, other than her feeling a bit more revitalized, was the fact that for 1, 2 or even 3 hours, she was all mine.  Want to know how to get your daughter to talk to you?  Paint her nails, give a pedicure, or do her hair. Now I don’t mean just get out a bottle of nail polish and start painting.  I mean get out the file, the cuticle remover, the clippers and scissors, buffers and trimmers, and really pour your heart in to it.  I found that when I really made it a labor of love, she started talking to me.  I would do elaborate designs using as many colors as I could get away with. We did blue hair, green hair, purple hair, and now, bright pink.

At first, only a few words were said.  Next, I spent a little more time, and got permission from nurses to bring in my own materials so I could draw things out more.  Eventually, I asked for a separate room to lay out hair dye colors, tin foil, brushes, and everything I would need for a spa day, just to spend time laboring over her, and showing her that time spent together didn’t have to be threatening.  Before I knew it, our times together were spent discussing huge topics, and before she knew it, she would start asking me questions and discussing things we would have never talked about before.  There were times where I had to choke a swallow pretty hard, but I would rather talk, then have no idea what she was thinking.  There were also times I got to share a little bit of life wisdom, that probably wouldn’t have happened otherwise.

Sometimes the beauty care didn’t work, so I invested in a game of Yahtzee.  What a great way to spend either a short or long period of time together, in an unthreatening way.  Again, conversations would open up, and when they didn’t, we could ease the tension by deciding if we’d go for 6’s or count a score for chance.  Either way, at least we were communicating.  Every time I felt a wall being built between us, I found a way to build a bridge to get to the other side, and if it didn’t work today, I would try again tomorrow.

Now that she’s out of the hospital, I have to find new ways to make this happen.  The hair coloring is still a good one, because it allows me to keep her in one place to chat, and she benefits from having fun and feeling good about herself the next day.

Sometimes working on the outside, can help bring out the beauty that hides within. There’s nothing wrong with that.

“Hello, Kerry?  This is your family counselor calling.  Is this a good time?”

“Hi.  Yes, I guess so.  I was just going on a break.  I have a few minutes”

“I was wondering if we could schedule a session together.  Something has come up that we’d like to talk about”.

“Ok. Anything I can answer now?”

“No. That’s not necessary……”

I can’t tell you how I hate it when conversations end that way.  Now I have to think about the impending news or discussion that will happen any time other than now.  I end up perseverating over something that probably isn’t even worth thinking about.  Is everything ok?  Am I missing something?  Has something happened?

I wait for the date to come, leave work and head for the counselors office.  We sit down, and they turn on white noise so no one on the outside of the room can hear us.  “We have found out that one of the layers of your daughters issues is your divorce.”.  Really?  How amazing.  I never would have thought.  “We asked your daughter if she knows the reason why you ended up divorced and she said she didn’t know.  We think it would be helpful if she knows”.

Silence.  Stunned silence.  While keeping a straight face, I thought to myself, “Hell no.  No way.  No way on God’s green earth. No stinking way am I saying anything to anybody.  It’s nobody’s business why, and what in the world could it matter now”.

I clear my throat.  “It’s complicated”

“All divorce is complicated – we understand that”

“No, it’s really complicated.  I don’t see what good it would do.  I don’t think burdening your kids with the past is any way to get more healthy in the future.  How can saying negative things be good for someone’s mental health?”

“All divorce is complicated.  Was it money?  Maybe you just didn’t get along?  We realize it could be uncomfortable to talk about, but perhaps we could facilitate the conversation, and be supportive to you?”

So where does the line fall between listening to health workers, or following your own instincts?  I’ll tell you where mine fell then, and still does now.  Nothing good can come of telling people you love, negative things about people they love.  It just doesn’t work.

I remember when I filed for my divorce.  I had to attend a “Parenting after Separation/Divorce” class that spanned 2 weekends if I remember correctly.  The room was packed full of bitter people, all fighting over this and that, full of resentment, regret and anger.  We talked, listened to lectures, and had lawyers and legal advisors speak to us and plead to be civil and keep things out of court.  The most impactful part of the course, was the movies we watched at the end with heart broken children talking about how they felt about the whole situation.  I watched kids torn apart by the things their parents did and said, and determined that moment that I would never speak of it.  I knew nothing good could come of it, and when the time came for the kids to know, if ever, it would be a long ways away from that date.

“All divorce is complicated.  If you were having trouble understanding, wouldn’t you want to know?”

Ok, fine,  You think it’s all that simple?  Really?  I proceeded to tell them a basic outlined tale of the accounts of the failure of my marriage.  The counselor sat in awe, asking questions, taking notes, and at the end of it all said, “I really don’t know what to say.  I’m going to have to think about this”.

“Think all you want”, I thought. ” I’m still not saying anything.“  I don’t want to re-live it, and I’m surely not going to make anyone else.

At the end of the meeting, I stood up and said, “I will not be saying anything at this time, and if I do, you’ll have to give me a pretty darn good reason to do so.  Even then, I just don’t see the point.  The reasons aren’t important anymore and won’t change a thing.  Sometimes ignorance is bliss.  Sometimes my own judgment needs to be trusted”.

“We’re going to have to think about this and will get back to you on what we think”.

There are times when as parents, I think we have to listen to our own instincts, even though the professionals seem to think they know what’s best.  I don’t need opinions from other people as to what I should say.  I’ve kept my mouth shut for 10 years and no one has been harmed.  I don’t see the point in harming anyone now.  I don’t need sympathy or pity.  How on earth will details enrich the mental health of someone who is already struggling?

The whole conversation was very irritating to me, so I shared it with my fiancé, and he agreed – what good would come?  How would this not be hurtful?

“Hello, Kerry?  Do you have a moment?  I wanted to discuss our conversation the other day”:

“ I really don’t want to say anything”.

“We feel it would not be in your daughter’s best interest to say anything right now, and your x probably has his side, and it would be really negative, and might push her in the wrong direction………”

“I said I didn’t want to say anything and I’m not going to.  My mind hasn’t changed”

“We aren’t denying your story, and want you to feel validated”.  Great validation.  Wooowhoo.  Just what I wanted.  “We really feel it would not only be bad, but would be very detrimental to her progress, and could possibly be a huge set back.  We are very insistent, but would like to help you with some possible answers if the topic comes up again.”

Hmmmmm.  Seems to me that’s what I’ve been saying all along.  “I don’t want to talk about it with her or anyone.  It’s in the past and really doesn’t matter anymore.  I have no intention of bringing up the topic.  Why would I do that?”

I was right on this one, and have probably been right based on that burning feeling deep down inside on other occasions too.  Nothing good will ever come of saying bad things about anyone.  The person speaking slander will undoubtedly lose ground or respect, or both.  If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all.  The reason we say things is out of selfishness – usually hurting others to try and relieve our own hurt or guilt.

I knew I was right then and I still do now.  Sometimes you just have to draw the line.

Part of being in a ward of 14 kids or more, is the reality that they’re all either going to get along and be friends, hate each other and fight, or a mix of both. Most kids end up there for only 2 to 3 weeks, so it’s not a huge amount of time but just enough to either connect or not.

Contact is strictly forbidden. No hugging, limited talking outside of group therapy, mostly private bedrooms, and if it’s shared then only one in there at a time except for sleeping, and generally supervised discussions to avoid unhealthy conversation.

I remember when I was a teenager – probably 13 or so. There was this group of boys in our neighborhood and I had a horrible crush on one. These boys were “wordly”, and there would have been no way my parents would have allowed me to socialize, so I remember hanging out in the back yard on our trampoline, just in case they walked by so I could see. I knew it wasn’t allowed, but if I could make some kind of contact it would make my heart jump. The point is, if there was a will, there was a way.

It’s no different now. Kids will find a way to bend and break the rules if they can – and they’re really crafty at it. On discharge they would pretend hug, and drop a paper with their contact info on it so it could be quickly picked up and hidden. They would smuggle in restricted items in their underwear or bras until they were caught. They’d tape razors to their skin so they couldn’t be found in clothing checks. They’d find ways to write contact info on parts of their bodies that weren’t seen so they could keep track of each other and make contact on the “outside”.

Now that we’re on the outside, there are no regular checks. Things are expected to carry forward and be more normal. The question remains – is contact on the outside good? What is normal, and at what point do I become concerned? Over the last few weeks there have been a few names that have come up. Emails from a girl whose parents figured a trip to Mexico would be the cure rather than stay committed to the program. There has been a patio coffee with a boy that was in emerge and then admitted twice during our stay. These were both forbidden contacts that have risen to the surface. Is it healthy to keep contact with people who suffer the same? Is it reassuring or detrimental to talk with others who suffer the same plight? At ADTP, there are no restrictions so numbers and emails are shared freely. We live in a different town so contact is limited to electronics, but it’s still there. I see a happier girl, who has compassion for other kids and finds comfort in not being alone, but the question still remains, and I imagine it will for a very long time. Will there be any long term negative effects from contacts with other patients? This journey we are on is not a short term blip in our lives. Mental Health is a life long journey that we are taking day by day. I’m so glad we got help – I could never do this alone

3 weeks since discharge. I’ve read all of the discharge notes, programmed the numbers and contacts, am attending the support groups, care giver groups, counseling sessions, have “baby proofed” the house, researched vegetarian cookbooks, gone to dieticians, stocked first aid kits……seems endless, but all preparations in an effort to avoid what I’ve been told is inevitable.

3 weeks since discharge. Things seem to be going pretty well. We have established a bit of a regular routine. Up by 630 am. Pickup for program at 750 am Return at 4 10 pm. Home. Figure out dinner. Some evening time. Shower. Tea. Bed. Weekends are saved for some activity with family and friends, and perhaps a visit with dad. It all seems pretty normal. Chores are being neglected, mostly because that’s not been part of the routing for the last while, so we’ll get back to it. 3 weeks since discharge, and 3 large opportunities to derail. The amazing thing is that I’ve watched the girl I knew years ago re-emerge. She was invited to a large youth event with a lot of kids in a loud environment and went. This could have been horrible, with the potential of many issues arising, so I stayed close to my phone. I’ve been having troubles with my phone, but because my contract isn’t up yet I’d either have to pay a heap of money for a new one, or wait it out, so wait it out is the choice. She’d been out for awhile at the event, and it was getting close to the time I had to pick her up, but no calls or texts. I thought it a little strange but let a little more time pass. Still nothing. When I looked at my phone there was no power at all. I freaked! What if she had been trying to reach me? I ran around looking for a plug to see if was a battery issue, but when I plugged it in there was nothing. No charge, no power, no contact. So frustrating! Eventually I managed to get it to turn on, and sure enough she had been trying to reach me, however, not for anything bad at all. She was just letting me know it was time to come – what a relief! I’m seeing skills that have been taught being used successfully. I’m seeing smiles and a happy face on a regular basis. We’ve had a fee tense.moments, but I’m remaining positive. I feel as if.I have my daughter back, and that is a very, very good feeling.

“Hello, Mrs. Johnsen?
“Yes, that’s me. Please call me Kerry.”
“Ok then, hello Kerry. How are you doing today?”
“…………….fine? Thankyou. And yourself?

Another one of those calls. You see the number. You know who it belongs to. Again, you take a deep breath, but this time sit down prior to answering.

“Am I catching you at a bad time? Do you have a few minutes to talk?”

Yes. I answered the phone so please, talk. Tell me something good. Tell me amazing news. Tell me this is almost over and this will be a closed chapter, never to be opened again. Please, just tell me something hopeful.

The Doctor on the phone proceeds to talk about a small incident at the program involving a staff member and a breach of confidentiality. We discuss the situation briefly, and that my daughter has been informed.of the situation. They assure.me this has been educational for them and has been resolved.

“How do you perceive dealing with this? Will you discuss it with her, and do you anticipate any problems?”

“Really?”, I think to myself. How am I going to deal with this? Will I talk about it with her and what do I anticipate happening? Great question indeed!

That’s the whole issue all the time. What will happen? There is no jacket cover or last page to read and get the end of the book first. I used to do that when I was in school. Book cover, inside jacket, first chapter, last chapter, book report, and done! 60% is all I needed – anything higher was a bonus. Anything lower was too indicative of my lack of effort. Didn’t really matter – I was cruising with tons of stuff more important to me I needed to do.

I miss those days. The “spoiler alert” saved my butt a bunch of times. Unfortunately, the path I’m on now has no alerts – at least not until your going over the actual bump. I would love a pot hole sign but I’m constantly facing that “construction for 100 miles” sign on a 1 lane highway. No turning back. No alternate route or detour. Not even a route recalculation – just rough road ahead.

How many times have you been cruising down the highway, summertime, windows open, tunes playing, and then you see an orange sign? Construction ahead. You think to yourself, “no problem. It’s a nice day, I’m in no rush, how bad can it be?” Then another sign comes that says 50 km ahead. “Really? That’s the pits. Maybe it will be just a short distance.” Then another sign comes that says construction next 100 km. “What the heck?! I just drove past the last exit. Now I’m stuck”. You slow to 50, and keep driving, waiting to see construction, but there’s nothing. Absolutely nothing. Not so much as a pot hole. You cruise for awhile, at 50 km/hr, trying to stay cheerie and not get irritated. Why let this ruin your trip? No point. 5 km pass. No problems. Small little pot hole comes up but you just had your shocks done so you don’t even feel it. More signs, and yet nothing. Another 5, then 10, then 15 km pass. Nothing at all is happening, and yet your eyes stay wide open, you stay alert, and you watch – just waiting for that huge bump in the road that will cause havoc. Nothing. You feel tempted to speed up a bit, after all, 50 seems a little ridiculous. If you go 60 or so and saw a cop you could easily slow down. You reach about 65 or 70, and then see a man with a sign that says slow. He’s waving his arms frantically as if you’re in imminent danger. It must be coming. By this time you’re almost half way there, and yet nothing out of the ordinary. You can’t even figure out why this is all happening in the first place. You’ve had a clear road – no issues, yet the bells are ringing, blinkers are blinking, and you’re on high alert the entire time. This is my life. Things seem fine. Moods are good. No self harm. No escalations. No incident reports. All good, and yet I’m being warned by the team on every front that it’s coming. Watch. Wait. Keep alert. Bad will probably happen………. It’s exhausting. I’ve said it before that I’m not good with rides, and I meant it. This is no different. How do you live a “normal” life and yet still operate all the time with a wise mind? I wouldn’t dare have a drink. I wouldn’t dare put my jammies on early and snuggle up for a movie. I wouldn’t go to bed early, run to the corner store, or even just have a long shower and turn the music on. I need to be prepared and be ready. Watch. Wait. Listen. And make sure no one sees you doing it. Alert on the inside and calm on the outside. I’m pretty sure my frustration comes through loud and clear. The waters are so muddy. I feel like I’m in a really long movie and just want to see the end already, but I know we have a long way to go. At least that’s what I’m being told. Things have been going well. Every day a little more trust is built bringing us closer and closer, but there’s always that however. The “what if” always exists. “If I let my guard down for just a moment, some thing is going to happen, and I’d never forgive myself”. I want to breathe and yet I can’t. This is so hard. I know the hand I’ve been dealt, but that joker is always out there. This is the first time in my life I have really felt being positive is truly negative, and that I feel reprimanded for feeling hopeful and like we might be out of the woods. Not sure anyone really understands, so for now I keep my cards close and won’t reveal my hand, after all, that card is still out there.

It was about 8 years ago now that I fulfilled one of my dreams and took my kids on a trip to California. I had always wanted to go to Disney and with them, but had never had the chance. I was having a great year in home sales, so I decided to buy the tickets and plan a surprise trip. Planning this was so much fun! The tools on the Disney site were great and easy to use. Planning activities, where to stay, rental cars, event tickets – it was all there. I remember filling out the info to receive a call from Mickey Mouse to tell the kids about the trip. This is how they were going to hear – a call from Mickey – how fun would that be?!

The day came and we got our things together to head to the airport. I’m pretty sure a lot of folks thought I was crazy. A single mom taking 3 kids (then 12, 10 and 6) to a place she’d never been on her own to spend 5 days having fun. I actually thought they were all nuts. How hard could it be?

I’m pretty sure that will be a trip we never forget. Disneyland, Universal Studios, Midevil Times, shopping, and more Disney. I had brought a GPS from home so I could navigate our way from place to place and not get lost. I didn’t want to get stuck in a set itinerary, and the need to be spontaneous is always there, so I figured I would be courageous, rent a car, and hook up the GPS to lead the way.

Things were going really great and we were having the time of our lives. We arrived just after Halloween, when the parks were decorating for Christmas, so the park was beautiful. The “It’s a Small World” attraction was just amazing as they’d covered the whole face of it in lights. We rode that ride 4 times in a row because it was so pretty. I don’t remember smiling that hard ever – it was just great to be with my kids and have so much fun. This was a dream coming true.

Our trip had been really great. We had a 2 day Disney pass, so we went the first night and the last. My plan was to get everything done in between and spend the last night at the park, have dinner, do rides, and see the fireworks. I just LOVE fireworks. The day went without a hitch. We had a great dinner at the Pirates of the Caribbean – our favorite ride. I had always wanted to eat dinner at the restaurant the ride passed by, so this was our chance – and we did it. It was magical. What a trip!

The night played out well, and we saw the fireworks then headed back to the hotel. It was very late and we were all exhausted so our beds were calling our names. We got all buckled in to the car, and pretty instantly the youngest 2 fell asleep. I set the GPS and we headed back to the hotel.

I don’t know what it is about night time, but things always look so different. The landmarks never change and neither does the road, butt my perception sure does and it makes for a more interesting drive. I find the older I get, the less I like driving at night. I don’t know what happened on this particular night, but I just couldn’t get it right. The GPS was set. I knew where we were going. I could see the hotel from the highway. I just couldn’t get there. Every single time I got to the exit I couldn’t figure out which one to take. We were on a huge highway, with exits going every direction, and every single time I took an exit, the stupid qGPS would say “route reclaculation”. Seriously? The first time it was no big deal. Ooops, missed it. No worries. I’ll drive ahead down the road, take a turn around, head back the opposite direction, turn around on the highway and try again. “Route recalculation”. Darn it! Missed it again. Ok, this time I think I know what I did wrong. Let’s do this again. Drive up, turn around, drive back, turn around, try again. Shoot!! “Route recalculation”!! Why does she keep saying that! I can’t tell what road to take!

I was frustrated at first and a little embarrassed. My oldest was still awake and I didn’t want to scare him, and being flustered wasn’t going to help. After the 6th “route recalculation”, we looked at each other and started to laugh. I think we’d been driving the same stretch of road for about an hour at that time. Now my other 2 woke up (I guess we were laughing too loud), and kindly pointed to the hotel, asking why we weren’t there yet. We just laughed harder. On the 7th try I missed again and seriously didn’t know whether to laugh harder or start to cry. Nope. Cryings not for me so we laughed. And laughed. And laughed. On the 8th try we finally made the exit, and got back to the hotel.

That is a night none of us will ever forget. How did we get it right finally? My 12 year old held the GPS and compared the 8 exits. Each time we struck one off and tried the next. My middle guy watched for the turn around points. My youngest cheered and repeated “woute wecalculashun” everything time the GPS repeated it. 8 times we tried. 7 times we missed the mark, and the 8th time we made it. We did it, but it took all of us together.

We have used that phrase a lot over the last 8 years, and all of us smile every time we do. We’ve used it a lot over the last 5 months as well. A little more sobering, but it also reminds us that if we just don’t give up we can make it. It might take some extra help, some twists and turns, but we’ll get there eventually.

Isn’t that what life is like? And the mental health journey is definitely no different. It’s ok to change routes, just don’t lose sight of the big picture. We’ll get there. Eventually.

Pro Ana.  Have you heard of it?  This is about one of the most alarming things a parent can see.  Google it.  These are websites specifically targeting girls with ED – eating disorders, giving them “thinspirations”, and providing them even with daily reminders of “You’re beautiful.  Remember not to eat today”.  They contain pictures of girls with their bones jutting out, clinging to life, restricting calories, all to be what they think is acceptable.

Pro Ana stands for professional anorexic.  I had no idea last year at this time that something like this even existed.  How do our children stand a chance with this kind of garbage available to them with the touch of a few buttons?

I have battled myself with eating and food my entire life.  When I was young, I was made to feel fat on a daily basis.  It came at me from every direction – family friends, teachers…..it felt like everyone.  It came to the point where I didn’t want to even be hugged or touched, for fear that others would feel my fat, and somehow would feel the way I felt on the inside.  I never fit in to “regular” clothes.  Thank goodness my mom was a good seamstress, because she would make me my jeans.  I attended a country school full of athletes, which only made things worse.  My gym teacher would taunt me daily, and remind me how I wasn’t like the other girls.  I used to pray for “God’s second coming” so that I wouldn’t have to finish running while all the other kids.

Eventually things started to spiral, and eating got worse.  I was so desperate to be thinner I tried all sorts of crazy things.  I found exlax in my parents medicine cabinet, and took a whole bunch, hoping that would work.  All that did is scare me half to death.  Nothing like drinking grape juice and then peeing purple!  I thought I was dieing!  I tried making myself throw up, but that hurt and was gross so that only happened a few times.  I tried not eating,  but I was hungry, so I would binge eat – actually in the closet.  I remember very clearly the horrible feeling of being such a bad person after, and the guilt was huge.  I remember a specific individual watching me eat, and being so self conscious of every time I put the fork to my mouth that I thought I was going to pass out. I just wanted to die.  I can guarantee you I hid this all very well and my parents didn’t have a clue of what I was doing.

When I was 13, I went on a very strict diet – only 800 calories a day.  I ate the same thing almost every day for 6 months.  My Dr. was so happy –  I lost 50 lbs., which is pretty major for a teenager that age.  I had changed schools that year, so I remember returning to my old school, and my gym teacher didn’t recognize me.  What a feeling that was!

For the rest of my teenage years I struggled with my self image.  I was musical, a bit of a geek, liked to cook, and always wanted to be different. I was short (still am), and really had my own sense of things.  Other kids were sporty, partied a lot, had tons of friends, and I felt they always looked at me as odd.  I didn’t fit the typical stereotype of the ED type, but in retrospect, I certainly was behaving dangerously.

As an adult I have struggled with weight.  I gained a tremendous amount when I got pregnant with my first child, and remember my x’s sister saying to me that fat people don’t need to gain weight when their pregnant.  I have lost a lot of weight, doing a secret diet, and remember the control and power I felt with no one knowing what I was doing.  I remember a lady in the grocery store asking me if anything was wrong – just to make sure I wasn’t dying, and that actually felt so great.  I felt powerful and in control – no one knew my secret and it gave me power.  I totally get the feelings that come when you can’t control your life, but then you find one thing you can control.  It only works though when it’s a secret.  When my secret got found out,  I couldn’t hang on and I started to gain all the weight back.

Since my daughters admission, I have learned a great deal about eating disorders, but truthfully still have a hard time understanding.  I understand my own struggle, but I’ve always been on the heavy side.  I’ve been the binge type, using food as an emotional blanket.  I’ve watched girls on the mental health unit restricting to such a degree, that even eating one green pea sent them in to fits of crying and panic.  I’m serious!  1 green pea.  The thought of caloric intake is so overwhelming to them, they just can’t do it.  They end up on IV and tube feeding, sometimes for months on end trying to get them to a safe weight.

My daughter was very close just before Christmas to being at that point.  I was so surprised that this happened under my watch.  I thought I would know, but didn’t catch it till it was at a serious level.  Hearing the way it all happened was horrifying, and I’ll never forget the day I had to sit and listen to it, but I’m glad I did.  I watch now – so closely – and yet I fear I won’t catch it because things can change so quickly.

I have realized throughout this journey, that in order to help my daughter with her pain and self image, I had better deal with my own.  It’s time to deal with the demons – whatever they are – and figure out why I still struggle.  How can I show her what self love is, if I don’t even have it myself?  Why do I still have the weight on me, and what am I protecting myself from?  I don’t really know yet, but that will be my personal journey, and something I need to change so I don’t carry it with me the rest of my life.

It’s time we speak out.  Do people know?  Did you know?  Pro Ana?  It doesn’t get much worse or more dangerous than that!  Since when did weight define who we are?  My size does not define who I am, only where I shop.  Time to start working on believing it.  I know it’s easy to say – believe me, I know.  Be aware!  Speak out!

Well today is the day. In 2 hours I will be picking up my daughter after 4 months and 23 days. It’s hard to believe because there are so any times we could have derailed, but we made it. 3rd time is the charm. They will have a rock ceremony for her, we’ll get prescriptions and then go home. No more parking passes, no walking the halls of the childrens, and no more late night calls from nurses.

This is it. Time to put in to play all of the things we’ve learned in therapy. We now go from constant watch and Q60 check ins, to creating our own routine. The question will be “How much is too much?”. For now, program pick up and drop off will be at my work. No home alone time. Regular safety check ins, and regular monthly visits to our pediatrician will be scheduled. Counseling and psychiatric care changes to ADTP. Sharps, meds, and alcohol locked away.

I realize we will have better days and worse days. I watched her restrict food for 2 days this weekend, and then recover on the 3rd. I will have to try and separate regular teenage behavior from things that may be signs of a decline. I know I will also have to decide……….when do we return. I think we are learning some of the triggers, but unfortunately I can only do so much. She will have to learn what to keep or allow in her life, and what to restrict or get rid of. In a way, it’s almost too much for a 13 year old, and I so wish I could stop time a little and just put a little time between now and the tough stuff. Just let her progress a little bit, you know?

“Hi, mom? When are you coming?”
“They said 10……”
“Can you come earlier? I just want to get out of here.”

I’ve been waiting to hear those words for a long time.

Scared. Happy. Nervous. Light headed. Now my real work begins. Fasten your seat belt folks. It’s going to be an interesting ride.