Living in the Shadow of Anorexia Nervosa

Living in the Shadow of Anorexia Nervosa
A guest post by Rebecca Perkins

Eight years ago I finally faced up to the fact that all was not well with my beautiful 14-year-old daughter’s health. She had over many months and in all reality a number of years been gradually changing her eating and exercise habits. I didn’t want to see, I didn’t want to name what I suspected was happening to my girl.

The numerous trips to the doctor, the hospital trips for any number of ‘presenting’ conditions hid from all of us — family, doctor, friends, consultants — the fact that my daughter was suffering from Anorexia Nervosa. I was witnessing the gradual diminishing of my daughter. Her weight, her energy, her vitality, her general well-being and health were not what they were. The lack of concentration, her mood swings, and her withdrawal from life were all the evidence I knew I needed.

What unfolded next is a mother’s worst nightmare — the fear, the guilt, the anxiety, the sadness, the anger, the distress, the desperation. My daughter was sick. I had so many questions I wanted to ask her, the psychiatrist, the nutritionist, the psychotherapist, myself. I wanted to know why, I wanted to know how. This illness rocked our family to its foundation. My husband (at the time) was unable to come to terms with her illness. We have never spoken about it and are unlikely ever to do so. My sons were bewildered. The eldest (17 at the time) felt an enormous sense of guilt — “if I’d been a better brother”… “if I’d been around more” … “if I hadn’t done as much sport” … My youngest (8 at the time) withdrew completely, daydreamed his way through school and cried. His words still resonate, “I just want my sister back.”

I carried the weight of not only her illness but the emotional turmoil it was causing in our family. I supported my sons and my wider family in their anxieties. I found some support amongst my friends and my sister, but felt completely isolated and alone.

One of the hardest issues I had to deal with was recognizing and understanding that I couldn’t “fix” her. I couldn’t make her better, I couldn’t give her paracetamol or put a band-aid on a grazed knee. This illness was hers, not mine. She had to want to heal herself. In a way, I had to watch events unfold and be there with unconditional love for her at all times. When the rage came I stood and took the full force. When the tears came I sat and comforted. When the rejection of food came I suggested something else that might appeal. When the fear came I held her in my arms.

Friends and family asked me how I did it. How I coped day to day, week in week out, being constantly there for the family and my daughter. I’m not sure I had any other choice (yes of course we always have a choice, we can choose our attitude even when things seem impossible). I chose to get on with it. I chose to do all I could to be there for my family. I chose to allow my daughter to take control of her illness, her life.

I found a way to separate my daughter’s identity, the real person, from the behavior, which was the illness. I coped with whatever the “behavior” threw at me. My daughter wasn’t her behavior. Thinking back to how we parented when our children were young — we loved the child but didn’t like the tantrums. This is how I made sense of it in my head.

I now appreciate how resilient I am, how I bounce back after setbacks. I believe this is the case because I choose to live my life fully — ups and downs. Even today, 8 years on from her diagnosis, and I struggle to write without tears. Anorexia lived in our house for some time, casting a heavy shadow. It moved on, my daughter is well and living her life having learned like all of us from the experience.

This post originally featured in The Huffington Post and is reprinted here with full permission.


About the Author: Rebecca Perkins

Rebecca Perkins is the author of Best Knickers Always: 50 Lessons for Midlife and founder of RebPerkins.com. Her latest book 40 Words of Wisdom for my 24 Year Old: A Parenting Manifesto (originally a Huffington Post blog) was published in April.

 She began writing to make sense of her life after the ending of her 20 year marriage. Rebecca is a NLP Master Practitioner and Personal Performance Coach working with women to navigate the transition of midlife. She is passionate about midlife as a time for renewal and for living the second half of life with enthusiasm and vigour.

 As a coach she is challenging and fun, motivating and inspiring. Midlife has taught her to be open-minded, to take more risks, to enjoy the simple things and to live each and every day with the question, ‘If not now, when?’ She lives in London and enjoys supporting and being surrounded by her children, spending time with her guy and celebrating life after 50.

 You can contact Rebecca via her website and follow her on FacebookTwitterand Pinterest as well as YouTube.

Follow Rebecca on Instagram for her 365 days of self care #365selfcare 

(I recently read Rebecca’s book, Best Knickers Always: 50 Lessons for Midlife. It’s rich, warm and wonderful and full of practical, insightful ideas – a great read.)

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Over the past the past 24 hours, I’ve been in Devonport, Tasmania to deliver two sessions to parents and carers - ‘Big Feelings, Connection, and Confidence’, then later an open Q and A where parents brought their real life questions - and we talked.

Thank you for welcoming me so warmly, and for trusting me with your questions, your stories, and your vulnerability. 

This was an openness where real change begins. Parenting is hard - beautiful and messy and hard. In the last 24 hours, I’ve been moved by the openness and honesty of parents I’ve shared space with. This is where generational patterns start to shift.

So many of the parents I met are already doing this deep, brave work. The questions asked were honest, raw, and profoundly human — the kind of questions that can feel heavy and isolating until you hear someone else ask them too.

Our children will grow in the most incredible ways if we allow them the space, and if we hold that space with love and leadership and a curious mind. And, if we open ourselves to them, and are willing to shift and stretch and grow, they will grow us too.

Thank you to @devonportevents for everything you’ve done to make these events happen.♥️
Can’t wait for this! I’ll be in Devonport, Tasmania next week to present two talks for parents and carers. 

The first is on Monday evening 19 May for a talk about how to support big feelings, behaviour and regulation in young people. This is not just another anxiety talk. You’ll walk away feeling hopeful, empowered, and with strategies you can start using straight away. 

Then, on Tuesday morning 20 May, I’ll be giving another talk for parents and carers but this will be a Q&A. Bring your questions to me! Even if you don’t have questions, the ones I answer will be loaded with practical information that will support you in your parenting journey. 

So grateful to @devonportevents for organising the events. They are public talks, open to everyone. 

Tickets available at Humanitix - search Devonport events and scroll down until you find me! 

Would love to see you there.♥️
Hello Adelaide! I’ll be in Adelaide on Friday 27 June to present a full-day workshop on anxiety. 

This is not just another anxiety workshop, and is for anyone who lives or works with young people - therapists, educators, parents, OTs - anyone. 

Tickets are still available. Search Hey Sigmund workshops for a full list of events, dates, and to buy tickets or see here https://www.heysigmund.com/public-events/
First we decide, ‘Is this discomfort from something unsafe or is it from something growthful?’

Then ask, ‘Is this a time to lift them out of the brave space, or support them through it?’

To help, look at how they’ll feel when they (eventually) get through it. If they could do this bravely thing easily tomorrow, would they feel proud? Happy? Excited? Grateful they did it? 

‘Brave’ isn’t about outcome. It’s about handling the discomfort of the brave space and the anxiety that comes with that. They don’t have to handle it all at once. The move through the brave space can be a shuffle rather than a leap. 

The more we normalise the anxiety they feel, and the more we help them feel safer with it (see ‘Hey Warrior’ or ‘Ups and Downs’ for a hand with this), the more we strengthen their capacity to move through the brave space with confidence. This will take time, experience, and probably lots of anxiety along the way. It’s just how growth is. 

We don’t need to get rid of their anxiety. The key is to help them recognise that they can feel anxious and do brave. They won’t believe this until they experience it. Anxiety shrinks the feeling of brave, not the capacity for it. 

What’s important is supporting them through the brave space lovingly, gently (though sometimes it won’t feel so gentle) and ‘with’, little step by little step. It doesn’t matter how small the steps are, as long as they’re forward.♥️
Of course we’ll never ever stop loving them. But when we send them away (time out),
ignore them, get annoyed at them - it feels to them like we might.

It’s why more traditional responses to tricky behaviour don’t work the way we think they did. The goal of behaviour becomes more about avoiding any chance of disconnection. It drive lies and secrecy more than learning or their willingness to be open to us.

Of course, no parent is available and calm and connected all the time - and we don’t need to be. 

It’s about what we do most, how we handle their tricky behaviour and their big feelings, and how we repair when we (perhaps understandably) lose our cool. (We’re human and ‘cool’ can be an elusive little beast at times for all of us.)

This isn’t about having no boundaries. It isn’t about being permissive. It’s about holding boundaries lovingly and with warmth.

The fix:

- Embrace them, (‘you’re such a great kid’). Reject their behaviour (‘that behaviour isn’t okay’). 

- If there’s a need for consequences, let this be about them putting things right, rather than about the loss of your or affection.

- If they tell the truth, even if it’s about something that takes your breath away, reward the truth. Let them see you’re always safe to come to, no matter what.

We tell them we’ll love them through anything, and that they can come to us for anything, but we have to show them. And that behaviour that threatens to steal your cool, counts as ‘anything’.

- Be guided by your values. The big ones in our family are honesty, kindness, courage, respect. This means rewarding honesty, acknowledging the courage that takes, and being kind and respectful when they get things wrong. Mean is mean. It’s not constructive. It’s not discipline. It’s not helpful. If we would feel it as mean if it was done to us, it counts as mean when we do it to them.

Hold your boundary, add the warmth. And breathe.

Big behaviour and bad decisions don’t come from bad kids. They come from kids who don’t have the skills or resources in the moment to do otherwise.

Our job as their adults is to help them build those skills and resources but this takes time. And you. They can’t do this without you.❤️

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