Last week my 17 year old daughter, having at last been discharged from an eating disorder clinic, suddenly decided she `wasn't allowed' to eat or drink anything. She's sitting her A levels this year and is very keen to go to uni in the autumn. Her clever, ambitious brain was telling her she needed to go into college every day and keep doing her homework and practice papers. Meanwhile, the anorexic voices had begun to shout louder and louder that she didn't deserve to eat.
She sent me a series of texts: `I can't have anything to eat or
drink. xxxx'
`The thoughts are too strong. xxxx'
`It's all just too hard. xxxx'
I've tried all the `You can do it, try harder, I believe in you' speeches. I'm a therapist, I know how to word encouragement and support, but I understood that that wasn't going to do it. Even as I write this, I know it sounds `corny', but I felt the only tool left to me was the strength of our love for each other.
One of the things we both love best in the world is swimming in the sea and because we are people who like goals and pushing ourselves, we always swim out to a buoy in the distance. I got her to visualise this, using all the senses, the water warmed by the sun, but with sudden cooler currents, the taste of salt on our lips and drying on our cheeks, the flash of white limbs below the surface, brushing against ribbed seaweed, the sound of distant shrieks and laughter from the beach.
Once she could imagine that, I introduced a bottle of still lemonade (her favourite, when she's able to drink) that we were passing back and forth to each other as we swam, so we had the energy to reach the red buoy in the distance. I told her we were a team, supporting each other or both of us would fail. We were determined to succeed, so we needed the energy the lemonade would give us. I believed that together we could get to the red buoy. Girl power (or aged mother and girl power!)
She agreed to see if she could drink something, when she got back from college. She got home, drank a big glass of water and ate an apple. Later, she had a full dinner, including her favourite crumble and custard.
I'm not saying that's it, she'll never struggle again, but now, at least, she knows she can win over the voices and doesn't need to go back on the tube. She's not alone in her battle. She gave me a Mother's Day card yesterday in which she said: `You are the strongest mum ever and I'm lucky to have you. You have never given up on me, even when I've felt like giving up on myself. I would do anything for you and I love seeing you happy.'
And that means the world to me.
No comments:
Post a Comment