Tuesday, November 26, 2013

the funny thing ...

The funny thing is when people try to help you get a lot of so called advice that really isn't helpful. Friends, or well meaning advice given by those who think they're helping, can say harmful things. I've started a collection of things I like to call "Things not to say to the parent of someone with an eating disorder."

"She's already so thin, WHY?" (She wanted the totally sunken cheeks)

"Were normal diets not working?" (I guess not. You figured out the riddle after all these years."

"She doesn't look like someone who would do that to herself." (what does that person look like, explain.)

"Why did her parents do/you do to cause that?" (well, aside from the abuse? Not much.)

"Are you sure this isn't a phase for attention?" (that must be it we totally ignore her.)

"Just make them eat, you are the parent." (I wish I'd thought of that, thanks!)

"They look so sick, just fix it." Oh, okay, will do!)

"I wish I had her willpower, I sure could lose a few pounds." (no, no you don't. That's the worst one to say possibly. My kid is starving herself and purging, it's not willpower, it's a disease)

"I've seen them eat recently, I'm sure it's fine." (You did? I guess we're all wrong!")

"They look great though." (bony and emaciated is great?)

"Are you sure?" (yes, that's what the doctor's evaluation was for)

"At least you caught it early." (did we? I don't know.)

Yes, I'm sure. Yes, I would fix it if I could. If I could make her eat I would. If I could make her stop purging I would. I'm her mom, she's part of my flesh, blood and soul. I'd give my life for her. I would take away her pain and help her figure out all of this. In a flash.

I know enough to know not to blame myself. It doesn't mean I don't at times. I know enough to know that she's finding one thing she can control. I also know that unless you also are the parent of a child who has experienced this, you don't have words for me.

I appreciate those of you who are there. Those who don't fill me up with false hope. Those who are just there.


While all of these are well-meaning,  I do find comfort in your words. I'm just a different breed. I like it black and white.  I don't want the sugarcoating. Just keep it simple and listen to me. Tell me you're here and that you care, if you do that is. I have my moments where I do really need people.

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

I hope my words don't appear hollow. They're heartfelt. And unfortunately I have experience being on the sidelines of this hellish disease.

ST

JunDishes said...

I read what you write and I hear you. I'm here. You're amazing and I can say that.