After two years in recovery I didn’t think about this until yesterday.
My mom trusts me to do a great number of things that include keeping my room clean (because I’m obsessed with cleaning) and getting my brother and myself off to school on time (well, not anymore since it’s summer) and watch and take care of my brother while she is at work. She does not trust my brother to do these things because he has an incredibly messy room and when left alone for two day while I was in Disneyland and my mom at work he almost missed the bus. And we have found match boxes and lighters in his room in the past that did not come from us. What my mom does not trust me to do is keep myself alive. For a while she would make my lunches for school and then my parents started talking about divorce and in about the 4th grade I started making myself breakfast and lunch and feeding my little brother before going to the bus stop. She started making my lunches for me again in my junior year after my diagnosis even though I had successfully made (not consumed) my own lunch after my diagnosis for the remainder of my sophomore year. She said to me the other day when we were talking about college and how she feels about me going away that she was sad and worried that she wouldn’t be able to have a hand in keeping me alive anymore.
I didn’t realize that keeping me alive was still a struggle, especially since I restored my weight about a year ago.
I was born 6 weeks early weighing a tiny 3lbs 5oz and there was some doubt about my survival, so I understand her worrying about keeping me alive. Add an eating disorder to that and it makes complete sense. I just hadn’t thought about it.
Sometimes my mom will put things out on the counter for me to eat on the days that she has work. Lately she hasn’t been, but sometimes she will, and if it isn’t gone because maybe I wanted a sandwich instead she has to interrogate me about it and I have to prove to her that I ate a sandwich. It’s funny because the same things I have to do to prove it, like leave out the knife I used with some peanut butter still on it and a plate dusted in bread crumbs I used to fabricate to make it look like I ate back when I was trying to lose weight.
With college and the upcoming marriage my mom is going to have to trust that I can take care of myself because she can’t follow me everywhere. I suspect she will send me texts asking what I made for dinner that night and if I had time for breakfast and lunch between classes, and while they will annoy me I know she is just concerned and that they will eventually disappear. However, I wish she trusted me enough to not feel like she has to do that, even though I understand why she doesn’t.
Kyle was my biggest support in my recovery but now whenever I have a struggle his reaction is to snap and yell at me. I have been having a particularly hard time since returning from vacation almost two weeks ago. I understand why he does it. I go for longer periods of time now being generally okay and I don’t need help, so when I do he just wants it to go away as soon as possible so we can get back to the nice time we were having with me being okay. I talked to him the other day about it, practically begging him to be okay with me losing weight, saying the typical things like “just a few pounds and then I’ll stop” and I still believe that that is my true intent. I don’t think I’m lying when I say that and I want to do it just to see if I am telling the truth. “Don’t you trust me?” I asked him and he told me no, not with that.
I was diagnosed just over two years ago now. I think I have made excellent progress. I have restored the weight and on most days I am okay with myself. Sometimes I even look in the mirror and think I’m pretty. But I suppose that the one thing that I will never be able to restore in the trust from the people I love.
On an unrelated note, email me @ email@example.com for the password to the “Wedding Related” page.