I haven’t written to you here for a while. Not since you were in hospital and even so, I still don’t know if you’ve read them. But this letter is different. This letter is about how frustrated I feel. Because however much I try to help you, I need you to start playing your part. And that isn’t happening.
I don’t know if you’ve read the last post, but I could have added that to help your daughter eat, you need to be in the same place as her. And that’s a problem for us. Tonight I walked through the door at 7.45pm. I was really tired, having had a long tough day. I’d left a quiche for tea, specially made with one half vegetarian. I made it last night after another long hard day. I left instructions for C to serve it with bread and vegetables. But you weren’t there. You were at your boyfriend’s house, for tea again. The boyfriend who doesn’t know about anorexia, even though he’s been brave enough to tell you about his CF, who told you how pleased the doctors were about his bone density, which is at risk, but he reduces this by drinking vast quantities of milk. You know about bone density don’t you? Because each month that goes by in which you remain underweight, your bone density fails to reach the levels it should. You could have shared this with him. But you didn’t. Because it would make things awkward. And so it goes on, with you both making plans to do the D of E Gold award together, while you chop melon for breakfast, while you avoid the meals we plan and while it still takes you an hour of tears to eat one slice of cake.
I know how hard this is for you. But it’s time for cards on the table. This is bloody hard for us too. Trust me when I say I don’t want to live like this any longer than it needs. But while you prevaricate, avoid and endlessly put every barrier in the way of recovery, we are all trapped in this misery. Except you, I suppose, out living a make believe life where you’re just a naturally skinny young woman who likes healthy food enjoying life with her boyfriend. We all sit at home feeling miserable and helpless. C plans meals which end up in the bin because you don’t call. This just isn’t fair. I don’t want to stand in the way of your new life, but trust me when I say Anorexia is standing in your way far more. I am tired of hearing you want to recover and then refusing to eat and avoiding meals at home. I’m older and wiser now and I’m sick of Ed’s bullshit, being spoken through you. I will do anything to help you beat this disease. But I need you to step up too. It’s time to choose, sweetheart. I will not enable you to live in denial any longer.
All my love, always
PS. You just walked in. You told me you told The Boyfriend about anorexia. This is really brave. Well done.