My Kid is Back – After the storm, a mother’s view of Eating Disorder recovery

My Kid is Back – After the storm, a mother’s view of Eating Disorder recovery

It is surprising how life can change.

A storm, a diagnosis.

Two years ago, I was driving on the motorway, torrential rain pouring down, making it hard to see anything. Summer and I were on our way home, following a specialist’s appointment, trying to figure out what was going on with Summer and how to help her. She looked pale, she had a blank stare in her eyes, she was weak, and her heart rate was low. I was terrified.

That’s more or less when our journey through hell started. This was when Summer was first diagnosed with an eating disorder. She was admitted to the hospital urgently a few days later.

At the time, we had no idea what was going on, what to expect, and, least of all, what a devastating journey it would be. We entered what would be our darkest stretch.

Finding a map: discovering “My Kid is Back”

Now, two years later, our lives have changed radically. These past years have seemed like an endless black hole of despair with the occasional glimmer of hope which often got crushed within a short time, allowing the darkness to return.

After Summer’s first hospital admission, I naively thought the worst was behind us. Little did I know that the worst was yet to come, and it would be far more terrible than my worst nightmares.

What, in retrospect, puzzles me is the lack of information that is given to parents and siblings when a family member is diagnosed with an eating disorder. I had absolutely no idea what to expect, what was ‘normal’, so to speak. I had no idea, until I found the book, My Kid is Back by June Alexander and Prof. Daniel Le Grange (the Second Edition has just been released).

The family stories were a true eye-opener. After at least four months of hell, I finally realised that Summer was not crazy. Summer thought she was crazy too; she didn’t understand what was going on, and to know that her behaviour was similar to that of others affected by the same illness was, in a way, comforting. She, too, felt less alone.

The title that became a promise

Although this isn’t a book review, I must say that the title June gave her book couldn’t have been more accurate, because now, two years later, my kid is finally back; Summer has started a new school, she has new friends, we are moving to a new house, and I have a new partner. All of which seemed impossible only a few months ago, and all seem to have contributed to Summer’s positive changes.

Turning point: residential care

After more than a year of trying to help Summer battle her ED, in which we went through several therapists, nutritionists, and hospital admissions, Summer was admitted to a residential treatment centre, at an hour and a half from us; she spent six months there and was discharged less than four months ago.

What changed—and what kept changing

Neither of us can pinpoint something specific the team did at the treatment centre that allowed for Summer’s change to happen; maybe they didn’t, maybe they did, maybe it was a number of factors playing together.

All I know is that a different Summer came home. Not only did a different Summer come home, she came home to a life that had also undergone fairly radical changes in the meantime.

Living with hope, staying realistic

We—Summer’s sister and I— couldn’t be happier to have Summer back, and we are enjoying this enormous change immensely, though we also realise that the change likely hasn’t been as easy for Summer.

I actually think it might be harder for her at the moment, as she tries very hard to shut her ED voice out and listen to her own voice.

By listening to her own voice, she is getting stronger, and she often experiences joy in life again, she simply has fun; something that had been sucked completely out of her. It is this realisation that makes her listen to her own voice, instead of the ED voice, full of false promises.

She is aware her body is changing, which is not always easy, but she knows she doesn’t want to go back. However, the world around her has no idea about what’s going on inside her head nor does it know how intense and constant her fight in her head is, because her illness has become less visible on the outside. This also often leads to well-intended but completely misplaced comments.

I cringe every time I hear people commenting on other people’s or their own eating habits, lifestyles, and diets. It seems to be the most talked about topic in the world, after the weather.

Gratitude—and a bigger purpose

As I wrote in my first blog for June, I do not wish this journey upon anyone, and I truly do not wish that even my worst enemy should go through it. We have been very lucky for several reasons; a lot of credit goes to Summer’s therapists, who never made her feel like just another patient. I would even say they have become good friends. Once our new house is ready, we will have them over for dinner for a housewarming party.

From recovery to advocacy

What’s more, her therapists want to form a team that informs schools, teachers, and parents to help create awareness and get rid of the many superficial opinions surrounding eating disorders. It is an illness that needs to be taken very seriously and is not something teenagers do to be fashionable.

Summer’s therapists have asked her to take part in this project, which is something Summer can’t wait to do; in this way, as she says herself, at least something good will come out of this journey through hell and back.

A small measurement, a significant milestone

Two days ago, I was driving on the motorway, torrential rain pouring down, making it hard to see anything. Summer and I were on our way home after her regular check-up at the residential treatment centre. This was the best check-up so far. As a result of her condition, her body had completely shut down over the past years; it had halted all growth, and she’d been the same height for the past two years. But when they measured her this time, she had grown two centimetres!