Part #23

Well, I haven't posted for a wee while as I've wanted the light relief writing of HexMyEx. But thank you to Bob and Cassie for your comments of concern. All is relatively OK here, but thank you very much - your messages really made me feel good.

Last Thursday, Melissa S and I decided to have an 'International No-Scales Day' (she lives in the States, and I live in the UK, so if that isn't International, I don't know what is!). To be perfectly frank, the scales don't control my life like they used to, since Ian got rid of the last set. They are hidden under our bed and it really is a case of 'out of sight, out of mind'. So, it wasn't as tough for me as it may have been for her, and although she struggled, she got through it and I am really chuffed for us both but especially her.

I have also been attempting to eat more and more. And a lot of it has stayed down and in. The laxatives are still playing a major part in my life, but again, I am attempting to cut down on a gradual basis.

I saw my counsellor on Friday and had a very good session with her. We talked very deeply about things, I felt. She described me, from what she had heard and read so far on this blog, as behaving like an apologetic little girl - constantly wanting to please; terrified of offending; punishing myself in my head, with my mother's intonation when I was being 'silly'; and trying to perfect myself. Listening to her slant, and understanding her rationale of it all, I was able to see that the way I speak to myself is very, very harsh: I never stop telling myself I am 'stupid', 'pathetic', 'childish', 'rubbish', 'a whingeing faggot' ('faggot' doesn't mean the same in the UK as it does in the States, by the way!); 'a waste of space'...the list goes ever on...

I divulged a few things to my counsellor about my Mother's control of me last Friday. These things are still exceptionally painful to me and it never ceases to amaze me that a parent could do this to their adult child, with full compos mentis.

Last May, I was working as an account director for a website design company. My job involved 'schmoozing' with potential clients; drumming up business at British Businessmen's Meetings (even though I am a woman!); quoting for work; running the e-marketing side of the business and making the coffee! (I was the only female in the company and it sort of always fell to me...). At the time, I was recovering from my last 'episode'. I was eating healthily, keeping it all in, not taking any laxatives, not touching alcohol, socialising and also working very long hours to get stuck in and leave a good impression. I was also fighting my ex, tooth and nail through the courts to get access to my children, which he had denied me after I fell to pieces when Ian and I split up in November 2006. I was a very driven woman, with high ambitions, going out on dates 3-4 times each week, looking healthy, slim and smart.

One day, out of the blue, my mother called me at work. My initial thought was one of panic, as neither of my parents ever disturbed me at work unless it was important. So when she asked me if, when I got home that night, I would call her and help her to write a medical letter, I was relieved and more than happy to assist. She had, four months ago, been taken into hospital with pericarditis, and I knew it was still troubling her, so my first assumption was that she was demanding better care and medication.

When I returned home, quite late, I called her and asked her to read the letter to me.

She started off:

Dear Dr R****.

I am writing to inform you that I am greatly concerned about my daughter, Alison, who, as you know, has suffered with an eating disorder and depression for many years. She is still struggling greatly and I feel, it is now time, for her to receive inpatient care and I am wondering how you would feel about sectioning her for some time...

At this point, I stopped her. I was utterly speechless that she could do this to me when I had put on weight, I was eating, I was very, very happy (apart from the legal wranglings), doing exceptionally well, career-wise, and earning a hell of a lot more than her darling son who had two Bachelor's Degrees and a Master's under his belt and was little more than an Office Junior, according to her. So what was her problem? Why, at this juncture in my life, did she decide she had to step in and cause trouble? I have my own suspicions and I am fairly sure that she could see me slipping away from her dictat and was attempting to reel me back in.

It didn't work. In November 2007, when Ian and I reunited and I informed her that I was engaged to be married (we weren't on best of terms at the time, anyway, as I had just started a new job, and again, was doing rather well so she had decided to give me grief at every turn) she slammed the phone down on me and has only spoken to me twice since; both times, I have had to call her about the way she has been manipulating my daughters.

Five weeks ago, she telephoned my GP. He was unable to take her call at the time but told me the next day when I attended a medical appointment that he found it odd for a Mother not to know her daughter's new married name. I begged him not to return her call and he readily acquiesced, advising me that there would be nothing he could or would divulge to her, being bound by the Hippocratic Oath. She is aware that I am struggling with anorexia at the moment. She knows nothing else about my life, though and that's the way I intend to keep it.

Today, I have undergone an operation and am a bit groggy from the GA - most of this post was written yesterday, actually. Beth and Ian accompanied me to the hospital - two of the three people I love most in this world. I was 'nil by mouth' from midnight. And for the first time, this morning, I utterly craved a slice of toast! How ironic is that?

I'm in a heck of a lot of pain to be honest - but writing is a distraction from it. And I'm not looking forward to going to the toilet tomorrow! I'm on 'legal' laxatives - prescribed by the surgeon. I am apprehensive about it all - I have had this type of operation before and was in agony for about three weeks. However, I did succumb to a bacterial infection that time, which exacerbated the wounds 100-fold.

My oldest daughter isn't talking to me at the moment as we had a furious row yesterday. She went to stay with her father to calm down and hasn't made contact at all. This hurts, too. I am too weary to fight with her tonight if she is still angry. I shall call her tomorrow and see how she is, but for today, it's just time for quiet, I guess.

I feel as though there is a small shift in things. Despite feeling like crap, and having worried myself sick about this op, I have achieved a good number of defeats of that gremlin over the last week. Certainly, I have won more times than he has. And although I'll still be taking the laxatives, there will be no other form of purging going on. So things are looking up. Two steps forward, one step back is far superior to two steps forward, three steps back...

Supporting Anorexia: Control & Intervention

Annie told me to pull this. She said it was hypocrisy. She told me tonight that she doesn't see a future for us. She told me tonight that she has no one.  That she thinks that I expect perfection. She thinks I don't love her anymore, and that she's not sure whether she loves me. Maybe I'm not acting like I do love her. Maybe I'm struggling with this ED more than I know. As I paste this post back into the blog, please remember that it was written over the course of a week. I hope it helps you, the reader, come to terms with just how rough it is supporting someone with an ED. Maybe you should ignore this and take it as a list of things not to do. Knowing what to do, and actually doing it, are sometimes two very different things.

I hope this doesn't come across as vanity publishing. I really do...

(Ian, 12/10/2008, 20:36)

So. Not posted for a while, and to be honest, this is the longest of them all I think.

Things have been pretty rough for me over the last couple of weeks. My boss has generously given me a few days off, which has helped enourmously to catch up on sleep etc, but it hasn't really helped with the "coping" which, at the moment, is getting harder.

It's difficult not having anyone to talk to. What's worse is the fact that Annie can see when things aren't right, and there is no point in lying to her. As soon as I discuss my fears, it seems her fears return even stronger and her renewed conviction that I'm going to leave comes to the fore. Before long, we're fighting, and I'm not even sure anymore why. We do now, seem to have reached an agreement whereby I can talk when I need to with Annie just listening. This is a tenuous agreement though, because when Annie's ED has a strong hold (or the effects of it), it becomes very difficult.

The girls were away last weekend, and with me devoting time purely to Annie, we had a lovely time. No worrying about cooking, no pressures on me from work, and just a nice peaceful time to relax and enjoy each others company. I dragged Annie out on both days, and we enjoyed a short walk down by the river on Sunday, blowing the cobwebs away, and generally just chilling out. The best news of all for me though, was that Annie managed a light lunch and an evening meal on both days, which must have been tough, but as we discussed later, was made easier by the fact that there were no pressures from the kids or any other extrnal sources.

Monday wasn't so good. I went into the office for the first time in a while, and Annie had a bit of a traumatic day to say the least. Having a conversation over the phone is not one of my strong points. Firstly because there is nowhere quiet in my office, and the only quiet places are within earshot of other people. This doesn't help much unfortunately when you're trying to talk to someone about how much pain they are in, and all the other worries. Dividing your time between someone with an ED, and other demands can be very difficult, and at times I am distracted by work "please do this asap" emails.

So when I got home on Monday night, Annie was not well. She was exhausted, and in a good deal of pain. She woke me up in the middle of the night with her somnambulism, and was not happy. This happened a couple of times during the night, and I found myself laying next to her, drifting in and out of sleep, constantly checking the bed next to me to see if she was still there. When I awoke in the morning and commented on what a rough night it had been, Annie had no knowledge of the events.

Now this has happened a couple of times before, and the arguments we've had while she's been asleep have hurt me, and left me feeling hollow the next day. There is no recollection of the argument, and thus there is no closure to the words we exchange. I'm a brooder too which doesn't help, and as we are all wont to do, I dwell on the negative words rather too much sometimes. I do treat Annie's ED as a seperate entity, but it is really very difficult at times not to take offense at the person who is using words borne of "the voice". I wish I didn't dwell on these things so much.

Talking to Annie about my feelings is a mixed blessing. As I sat at the table one night last week, and poured out random rubbish from inside my head, I couldn't help notcing the sadness in her eyes as she sat there, thinking. I didn't probe further, because, for a change, I needed to get things out. I'd been to see a counsellor earlier in the day - provided by my employer. I was later told that this counselling is often of a "quick fix" type. It was clear that this was the case, as there was little empathy from the lady who seemed to want to just get to the bottom of things. Indeed, after I had recounted the tales that you have read as part of this blog, we both just sat there in silence. Me, waiting for her to say something helpful, constructive or insightful, and her, just mulling things over quietly to finally reply with "hmm... that sounds like it must be quite difficult.". I'm not sure I'll go again. I stated from the outset what I wanted to achieve, which is a mechanism for coping with the effects of supporting someone with an ED. There was recognition that this was even possible from her point of view, and no feedback from my one hour monologue.

I do think that it takes a "skill" for wont of a better word to look after someone who has an ED (or any other type of disorder). Jumping in blind definately doesn't work. You need infinite patience, and the ability to listen and empathise. After my counselling session, I came away thinking that I had better skills at this than the person I'd just been talking to. And even I know that I need help honing these skills.

I've been thinking a good deal about intervention and control recently. How do I intervene without taking control from Annie? Can I do this? Is it possible, or is it not my job, and should intervention be best left to those with the skills?

Control is something that is difficult to understand, as it is based on the perception of the "controller" and the "controlee". As a very simple example, #1 was getting the pep talk last night about "going out". We said that if she went out, we would want to know where she was going, how she was getting there, how she was getting back, and what time she was going and coming back. These things are asked purely to make sure she is safe. Is she going to be walking alone in the dark? Is she going to be with friends? What time do we need to start to worry if we haven't heard from her? However, her perception is entirely different I'm sure. She's a teenager after all. She wants independence. She wants freedom to do as she pleases, and she doesn't want nosey parents sticking their oars into her business. Does she see it as control? Probably. Our words that say we only want her to be safe, could be construed as excuses for the real reason (in her eyes): They're watching me! This is a simple example of control, and how it can be perceived differently. it is control, because, as parents, we state that if those conditions are not met, she's not going out. Is it reasonable? I'm sure parents of teenage girls would say yes, but what about a teenage lad?

Looking at an ED is far more complex. It is borne of a feeling of a lack of control, so intervention is even more difficult, as almost anything that can be perceived by the sufferer as "control" will be. When I speak, I have to be careful that words expressing care and concern are not taken as words of control.

So I did some reading on Intervention, and discovered that, like all concepts, it's a bit more complicated than you might think, so before I start, I think I need to define what I mean by intervention.

For the purposes of this blog, I define intervention as "doing something that would interfere with the natural order of things". From turning off a tap to prevent it overflowing, to taking an axe to a set of scales. Some of the people who have read this blog have intervened by posting comments. Some have chosen not to, by just reading, then moving on to something else. Maybe they come back, maybe they don't, but they choose not to intervene for whatever reason.

And these reasons for intervention are complex. Often, intervention takes place without thinking about it. The tap gets turned off, because that stops the sink flooding, and expensive repair bills. Very straightforward. But perhaps the sink was being filled by someone else for a purpose unbeknownst to the tap-turner-offer (I really must get used to typing in some form of "person"... I don't want to use "you" because that implies I am telling you something. I hate using "one" because it's clumsy. Suggestions, as always, appreciated). That intervention then becomes less useful, because the sink still has to be filled. Am I rambling uselessly here?

OK. Get to the point Ian. Support is a form of intervention. Without support, Annie's Rexia would follow a course of action. Maybe she would get help on her own, maybe she wouldn't. Taking this a step back even further, I am actually intervening simply by being part of Annie's life. I knew that I would be doing that when I contacted her almost a year ago now. Love was the motivating force then, and it remains my guiding light of hope now.

I watch Annie and her ED, and it makes me scared. I don't want her to die. It's that simple. I want her to be happy, healthy, and making me chuckle with Hex My Ex. It is a natural urge (I think) to want to change things when you see them going wrong. Especially if you have made the same mistakes, and can offer advice and help to prevent the same mistakes being made. How many books and DVD's are there out there telling you how to do pretty much anything from lose 200lbs in 5 seconds, to building your own house.

Dragging this back to the point though, when I see Annie suffering, I want to make things better. As someone that has never suffered an ED, my mistake was to assume that simple intervention would save the day. Eating Disorder. Answer:Just eat. Fall flat at the first hurdle, do not pass go, do not collect £200.

And therein lies the problem with any intervention. If you don't know what it is your trying to help with, how can you possibly know how to help? On the face of it, eating disorders are a relatively common psychological illness. Yet there is no straightforward "cure", despite many many experts' efforts. How then, can you, as a supporter of someone with an ED, help?

Well, you can and you can't. Is that clear? Nope? Good. Now you're beginning to understand the complexities here. Understanding the issues behind Annie's ED is the key for me. I really need to be able to put myself into Annie's shoes, and that may sound easy, but an ED is a devious bastard, and all too often I am lured into thinking everything is OK, only to find out later that it's very much not. Complacency is probably my greatest enemy.

Take this blog as an example. Writing these events down has no doubt taken its toll on Annie. As I read each post, I go to see her and ask if she's OK. Mostly, we chat about what she's written, I put my arms around her, and we hold each other. Not much that has been written here is old news to me. I've heard all these stories several times, which invariably lessens the impact. The problem is that Annie is living with these things inside her head, every single day. To write them down like this is so tough for her, yet I forget sometimes how tough that can be. I need to be there to support her, and I think I am most of the time, but sometimes (when I'm at work for example, and in the middle of something) I fall down. Indeed, it was my idea that she blog this. I see myself as responsible for any ill effects of this, even though it is Annie's choice to post. Was this intervention good? Time will tell I guess, but the magic 8 ball currently says "possibly" (although it also said "yes" in response to "greqgfda gfda d dfsa?". I hope I found a good balance between intervention and control here. I planted an idea, and Annie (for the most part) has carried it through.

Getting help from Sue though had to be her choice. Again, I suggested it, but I couldn't arrange the appointment. When Annie finally did it, I cried with relief. I think Annie was a little surprised at my reaction, but these tenative first few steps are so important because they are actually steps in the right direction.

So today, I read a site that Annie has pointed out to me: Anorexia Carers. It is a great site for quick, easy to read information on how to help someone suffering with Anorexia. I will be adding it to our list of recommended links. One of the more interesting analogies on the site talks about the "gremlin" that is an ED. The sufferer is regarded as normal, but with this gremlin on their shoulder. What I partcularly liked about this description is that each step on the road to recovery is like a slap in the face to this gremlin, whose sole objective is to get rid of you (the support) so that it can work on the sufferer un-interrupted. Let me tell you, I relish every slap and kick I give (or help Annie to give) to this horrible little thing. I just wish I could steel myself against the pain it so often causes me, so I could better support Annie.