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A Long Game Played Slowly

How do eating disorders affect the family's of sufferers? I sat down with the mum of an Anorexia survivor to hear her story.

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TW: Eating Disorders, Suicidal Ideation, References to Calorie counting, restriction & Weight. Content may be upsetting for some readers. 

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‘Yes- I thought my child would die.’ The words no parent should ever have to say, but here, before me, between tears and sips of coffee, I’m hearing it. She is crying, but crying like she’s holding it together- like she’s had experience suppressing such acute pain. She really wants to sob - she really needs to. I don't even know if she knows that, she’s so well versed in holding it together. 

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The Oxford dictionary defines an eating disorder as- ‘Any of a range of psychological disorders characterised by abnormal or disturbed eating habits.’ 

Reading that now, after talking with a mother so explicitly heart wrenched by her child’s ‘disturbed eating habits’, all I can do is sigh. When we consider Anorexia and the likes, societally, we seldom think of the reach of its toll. Of course, we consider the significant effect it has on the victim, and if we have an ounce of empathy or insight, we really do feel for these people. 

Rarely do we consider the affect on people close to the sufferer. The mums, dads, grandparents, siblings, boyfriends, girlfriends. Those who have to watch a person they love hit the ‘self-destruct’ button over and over again without any real discernment. 

This is the story of a mother, who was forced to watch her child battle Anorexia Nervosa, the most fatal of mental illnesses. 

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We meet in a cafe in the center of a local town. It has a bohemian flare. There are pot plants hanging from copper hooks and vinyl records wall mounted above a sea of brunches (a handful of which are photographing decadent stacks of pancakes with lashing of maple syrup). 

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Nikki has arrived before me and is sat on a table by the window. We cordially greet one another (in an artificially lighthearted way - considering the subject matter). I thank her for introducing me to such a ‘gem’ of a cafe, already planning to come back with my girlfriends over the coming week. “I thought it would be appropriate, such a food centric environment is a place I once would have dreaded coming with my daughter.” 

Nikki’s daughter, who does not wish to be named, is pushing the door to recovery, but just months ago, was all consumed by disordered eating.

“I would have Absolutely dreaded it,” she repeats. 

I’m already getting my first taste of the vicious monster that is Anorexia.

“Veganism was facilitating the disorder.” 

1.        Preoccupation with weight, food, calories, carbohydrates, fat grams, and dieting

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2.        Taking smaller portions at mealtimes 

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3.          Cutting out food groups in their entirety” - NHS

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Upon reading this list, I cannot think of a single person who doesn’t suffer with at least one symptom. We have the great ‘pleasure’ of living in a diet-centric culture. We are compulsively obsessed with vanity and determining self-worth quantitively. Grades on exams, number on scales... Of course, not everyone has an eating disorder, but it does beg the question: how do we identify between people who are ill, and those who are merely in the grip of tragic societal norms?

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“Restriction, started in the January of 2019, with her wanting to cut out certain things. It seemed really sort of logical and then I realised, the need to cut those things out was very extreme,” Nikki explains. She articulates eloquently and somewhat fluently. It makes me sad. I can see that she has had to justify the origin of her child’s self-hate before talking with me today. I get the sense she is internally cutting herself up for not noticing sooner: “It’s something that creeps up on you.” 

I furrow my brow in consolation.

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“In my daughter’s case it was becoming vegan, which is very trendy and a socially aware thing to do. It’s very fashionable, I wasn’t surprised and she lost a lot of weight.”

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The economist declared 2019: ‘The year of veganism.’ Worldwide, individuals engaged in reducing the amount of animal products consumed as a supposed response to the ethical and environmental crisis. It’s easy to see how an eating disorder could be masked behind this facade of what is essentially, fashionable restriction. Nikki’s story is a prime example of when “Veganism was facilitating the disorder.” 

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I look around the cafe we are sat in, my eyes graze the specials board - after each dish is a different dietary abbreviation. I’ve never noticed this before; I think about other people in the cafe the most of whom have opted for Vegan options. Allowing my mind to wander, I consider the backdrop of these customers: Why have they chosen this option? Is it innocent? Or are they in fact walking that fine line between restriction and starvation? I think about their families, if they are suffering, how would they even know? And if they do, are they fighting those same feelings of frustration and despair this interview is making me all too aware of? It’s a seemingly tenuous link to make. But ‘Beat’, (the UK’s leading eating disorder charity) report that “approximately 1.25million people in the UK have an eating disorder.” Its more than likely that there is at least one sufferer here. Thinking of the potential distress of strangers, its numbing. I can’t begin to imagine my anguish if it was my child. 

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I am shown a picture of Nikki’s daughter a year before her struggles began. She is sat in front of a duck egg blue gate. It is snowing outside but is hard to focus on anything but her. She is such a beautiful girl. Her eyes are blue, not that common hazy blue, but a deep pure hue with ivory rings around the outside of her corneas. 

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Her hair is straight, though I can tell not naturally by the untamable white-blonde ringlets of baby hair framing her face. She has ever such a slight figure, model like if anything; long legs, narrow shoulders, tall stature. It’s hard to imagine how such a girl could lose weight. I don't have to. Nikki flits through her camera role to a photo from the corresponding year. Before she looked with a half-smile, but now she looks away. It’s hard to look at. This poor mother. 

 

Her child’s once captivating eyes look scared and mournful. They appear huge and consume her face. Her skin is tired, and cheeks now just bones. Those curls from her childhood are a distant memory, her hair is now wispy, fraying like denim cuffs. She wears an oversized sports jumper which conceals her body. Her jeans are the same as the ones in the first picture, but now held up by a shoelace and safety pins. 

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These symptoms we rely on to get people the help they need are only the beginning. Looking at this child, I am introduced to a whole new layer of symptoms, which can’t be mistaken for anything else.

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 “You’re aware quite early on that your child has some ideas about their self-confidence/self-concept that you are concerned about, but you don't really notice as soon as you like to have thought you could as a mother: that its being poured into starvation and punishment.” This poor mother. 

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“Her behavior became near psychotic”

“Parts of the brain undergo structural changes and abnormal activity during anorexic states” - The Emily Project. There is a false sense of safety in starvation, that I am quickly learning is very powerful. Everything down to neurotransmission is tainted. Areas where personality reside shrink. Loved ones become strangers, convinced there is a haven to be found in having just one ‘support network’, a ranging eating disorder: “her behavior became near psychotic and so unpredictable. She would throw food, scream, swear. It wasn’t my little girl. It wasn’t he child I raised.” 

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The implications on family life are inconceivable. It’s a regular discussion within the eating disorder community: the correlation between parents’ divorce and development of an eating disorder: ‘Researchers have found that divorce, especially when their parents ‘split is high conflict, may be a risk factor for some teens and adolescents in developing disordered eating.’ - But, as far as I can see, cause and effect has never been flipped.

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The implications on family life are inconceivable. It’s a regular discussion within the eating disorder community: the correlation between parents’ divorce and development of an eating disorder: ‘Researchers have found that divorce, especially when their parents ‘split is high conflict, may be a risk factor for some teens and adolescents in developing disordered eating.’ - But, as far as I can see, cause and effect has never been flipped.

What strain does having a suffering child put on a marriage? The dynamic between parents? 

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“It was horrific -” Nikki pauses in an attempt to compose herself. I have asked her a question that has taken her off guard: like she’s been dying to say it but hasn’t had the chance. 

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“It put everyone’s relationship under pressure, my marriage, my relationship with my other daughter” ... she’s breaks. It is more than just crying; I can’t quite put it into words. I think maybe she is allowing herself to feel the sorrow of the past. There is an atmosphere I can only compare tenuously to a funeral; she mourns the loss of time. I sense anger, with herself, at the situation. I wonder if somewhere in her subconscious, there is anger at her daughter, for the lies, deception, destruction, dissociation, obsession, the suicide of her social life, resentment of support. It’s such a valid anger to have. She needs someone to tell her that’s okay. She’s not at fault... just human. 

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“Yes- I though my child would die.” The depths of herself blame are unreachable. 

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 As someone who has both suffered with and supported family through mental illness, I can see both sides of the coin. No one gets off lightly. 

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We leave the cafe three coffees later. I head to a local park to reflect. Its early afternoon now. There is a family of four having a picnic. I think back to Nikki, her family and truly understand her mourning of time. Once cherished family meals had no doubt become hostile, picnics in the park more of a shouting match.

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Upon leaving I had asked: “Is your daughter better?” 

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For the first time today, she looks me in the eyes: “better is a long game played slowly.”

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