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Through this disease I have met so many others who struggle with food and other substances. I have met some truly amazing people both in the treatment center where I stayed, and through my advocacy work. I have encountered others with eating disorders and addictions all over the board. When I left the hospital, it was advised by the some of the staff to cut off all ties with other patients I met at the facility. I have lost contact with a large number of the people I met during my three month stay in Denver. However, there are few I have chosen and feel safe enough to stay in contact with. Social media has made it easy to know how others are doing, or to keep my distance. At the treatment center there were many patients that came from my neck of the woods since at the time treatment in the Pacific Northwest was very limited for eating disorders. A small community consisting of others who know this battle has been helpful in my own recovery journey.
I care deeply about the people I have met through this recovery process. I see similarities and differences and respect the struggle these men and women are going through. There is a certain empathy I have. A compassion and a patience that perhaps people on the outside might not have. After all, people who have never had an eating disorder or an addiction problem often find if very difficult to comprehend. I have felt and thought the very same things as these people who struggle. I get it. All the twisted thoughts and behaviors, I understand. I have been there. And it has been a huge support to me in my recovery to know I have never been alone.
However, the fact remains, that even though I have been there, starving, purging, shoving donuts in my mouth, stepping on that fucking scale obsessively, abusing myself, even after all of this: I still don't have the right words. If I could save someone, I would. But I can't. This is hard for me to come to terms with because I feel like I should be able to.
This brings me to the present moment. I currently have a dear friend who is drowning in anorexia. I am afraid for her. Over the last couple of years I have seen her deteriorate at an alarming rate. If she doesn't get more help, I am certain she will die. The thing that surprises me is that I don't know what to do. I cant' fix her. I can't convince her. I cant' make her see what I see. I feel like I should know just what to do, and still I try. I keep thinking if I say the right combination of words and commit to the right actions, she will miraculously see the truth from the lies her eating disorder tells her. She will recover. I could be the one to help her. I figure since I have been sick, and since I am doing so well in my own recovery, I should know just what to do. I don't.
Even though I worry every day that she could die from this, there is nothing more I can do except pick up the phone when she calls. Listen to what she has to say and know the pain. I don't have to try to fix it. Though, that is what I feel like I should be able to do. Ultimately this journey is hers and has to be. She has to want life. She has to choose to fight for herself. I can only tell her how much I care about her. I can tell her the truth I see. I can be the honesty that the eating disorder is hiding from her. That is all I have the power to do. It is hard for me and the ones who love her to watch her suffer. It makes me think of what my friends and family must have gone through when they watched me disappear. I now understand the fear, the frustration, the sadness, the anger and the helplessness. I know her as a person who is incredible even when in the grips of anorexia. I just wonder if I will ever get the chance to know how amazing she could be out of it. I hope I get this opportunity someday.
For all of you who wonder what to do for their loved ones in this disease, I wish there were a straight and exact answer. We only have actions over ourselves. All we can do is show we care, and be honest about our own feelings. In the end, it really is up to each of us to choose recovery.
Live on,
-Kristy
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