How Families Deal with an Eating Disorder

I’ve seen hundreds of people get “dropped off” at treatment and watched their loved ones walk away, almost in worse shape than the new admit. I have often wondered who that moment is harder for. For the new admit, its realizing you’re in treatment, adjusting to new schedules, faces, etc. For the loved one, you are walking away, letting go and hoping for the best. When does that hope for the best turn into relief that for the next 30 days (god willing with insurance), you can regain some level of autonomy and breathe just a little deeper?

If you are reading this and thinking how selfish I must be for wanting to breathe a little deeper, I hope you never find yourself in a situation where you would understand where I am coming from. With that being said. It made me think about what this child’s parents would feel. They did everything “right,” they said the right things, monitored media influence, and yet their 9-year-old daughter ended up malnourished and 50 lbs.

The parents said, “We soon learned that nothing about an eating disorder was rational.” I think this is the hardest part for loved ones. The disease gets so good at mimicking what their new host used to be like and tricking on lookers into seeing “glimpses of the old you” truly invoking a false sense of hope. The more of these episodes there are is a good indicator that the person is being pulled further towards their disease. It’s usually not that long after the “exorcist” version comes to light, and you are met with a whole new slue of feelings, and horror.

I usually meet people in the real pits of their disease, so when I start learning who they actually are it’s incredible to see the transformation. I had a mother say something that has never really left me. “I know my daughter is a monster right now, but just know she is my monster and I love her.”

Before then I would have never thought to have the words “monster” and “love” in the same sentence. As I helped the daughter unpack I witnessed first hand the “monster” her mother had just warned me about. Up until this point I thought monster was a bit harsh, but after experiencing it the word monster really hit the nail on the head. As I got to know the “monster” the more I saw the young lady, I knew the monster and what it was capable of. I lived the monster. I at one point was the monster.

It was a real learning opportunity for me because it changed my whole perspective. Maybe because I was introduced to both her disease and the person she was outside of it at the same time. I don’t know why but those words have always stayed with me, and reminds me that no matter how “ugly” someone’s disease is they are someone’s “monster” and are loved.