Telling My Mother

There are those lucky people, they tell their family members or parents about their eating disorder and are so supportive …… I am not one of those lucky people.

All of the doctor appointments began to pile up and I told my mom that “The doctor seems more concerned about my esophagus rupturing or stomach ulcers than this surgery.” she began to become, well, nosey. After surgery I was at my place recovering, sleeping, popping pain pills to dull the throbbing, etc. At some point I told myself, “I am over twenty years old, I need to quit living in fear over my mother’s opinions.” I have always lived in fear and rejection from my mother, never being enough, not living how she would want me to. So I picked up my phone, and not wanting any argument or confrontation, I texted her:

“With all of my doctor appointments, and me recovering from surgery,figured it is about time I told you, I have been diagnosed with an eating disorder.” I halfheartedly waited for her reply, not sure if she would even acknowledge it, if she would yell, or what reaction I was in for. She responded with, “I know you skip meals. How bad?”  Wasn’t the warm and fuzzy reaction I would have liked, but hey, it wasn’t the beginning of a fight either, so I was pleased.  ”

……..Anddddd, that was it…. nothing more was said. The conversation was over, and we have not spoke about it since. I did mention that I had been going to outpatient last year and I’m going to start going again. That, was apparently not the right thing to say. As she usually does with anything, she turns it around on her and begins to yell.  She didn’t think that I needed to go and that people had been trying to “diagnose” her with stuff for years and that it is nothing. That was more of the reaction I was going for on the first take.

Unfortunately, I wish my mom gave a damn and showed any interest in trying to get me help. I hate the fact that others close to me care more about my life than I do, or even my mother at this point.  Still haven’t decided if telling her was a good or bad thing, I supposed good, she was going to find out sooner or later. I’m not sure what reaction I was going for either, guess just wanted her to care.  Well, that is about it.

Like so many things in her/our life, if she doesn’t want to deal with them or admit them, she hides them under the rug. In our small town it is all about how people perceive her. If it could reflect badly on her family, then she wants nothing to do with it. It’s a shame really.


Blood Work and Scales – Becoming the Norm.

As I lay in bed, the gauze against my abdomen growing more and more irresistible to scratch off my skin, the pain coming and going out of nowhere like a train station with no schedule. Standing isn’t an option, sitting up is hard enough as it is, talking in short choppy sentences because the oxygen tube left me with a sore throat. 

I feel like this all happened so quickly, I have never been skin and bones. Yeah, I’m athletic, so nobody really had much to say when the weight began to come off, “you look great!” they would say followed by selfish curiosity that haunted them and left them slightly jealous, “what do you do?”. As if the first part didn’t sting enough, I would just respond “I run, A LOT.” and leave it at that; people in my town, they don’t want to HAVE TO DO anything to lose weight, they want a magic pill, or a super secret ingredient. 

No, This all happened so quickly, first chest pains, EKG, stress test, blood work, cardiologist referrals, another dr appt, followed by another, more blood work, scales after scales after scales, ultrasounds of my insides, prescriptions to help with the acid reflux from purging, another dr appt, and once again more freaking blood work. Then came the call, “I need you to come back down here, like today, do more blood work so I can check your liver and I’m going to schedule you with an appointment with the surgeon.”  Blood work and scales were becoming the norm, but the urgency in her voice left little to be desired.

It’s amazing how an ultra sound can turn to surgery in a matter of 10 days. The doctor and I, and my pre-surgery consultation doctor and I had all pretty much come to the agreement that people who get gallbladder stones this big are usually much heavier, much older people. My first reaction came from the eating disorder itself when I blurted, “WHY DO I GET SOMETHING FAT PEOPLE GET?!” The doctor, super patient, explained that with my weight loss, very low fat diet, plus teasing my body with food and purging it up, left the stomach acid with no place to go. At the consultation the doctor warned me, “You aren’t going to like this…” as I saw her with the restrictions, “…no gym for…” Oh Lord, here it comes, “…2 weeks…” DAMMIT!!! But it just got worse from there, “By two weeks you can probably walk around, no running on pavement, no jumping, no lifting for 3-4 weeks.” Well, this sucks.

So, as I started off, I’m laying in bed, ready to climb the walls.