What I Wish My Parents Knew About My Eating Disorder

In my case, I never really had a formal sit down discussion with my parents about my eating disorder. I started eating disorder recovery in my mid-twenties, long after I had moved out. By then, I had graduated from law school and the time felt right. I told each parent separately about my eating disorder (they are divorced), and as uncomfortable as the conversation was, surprisingly, their reaction was one of relief. All along, they had known something wasn’t quite right regarding my eating habits and body image, and they also knew I’d had my gallbladder removed a couple of years earlier. So to them, as much as I tried to hide it, they knew something didn’t add up, but they just didn’t know what. (read: How To Tell Your Parents About Your Eating Disorder)

Mom. Dad. I Want To Tell You About My Eating Disorder

In retrospect, here’s what I would’ve wanted my parents to know about my eating disorder, years before, while I was struggling alone:

• For the longest time, I thought my problems with food intake and self-harm had to do with how I looked. It wasn’t. In my case, it was about control, about being able to exert power over my body and overindulge in food, or punish my body at times by restricting or purging when I didn’t measure up against the ideal ‘me’ I had created in my mind. It was through therapy that I realized it was about those hidden feelings and not just about food;
• I didn’t discuss my eating disorder with my parents because on some level (which I discovered through therapy), I realized that a lot of my triggers were linked to my childhood. Since I love my parents, I was afraid they would see this as being their failure as parents. Today, having healed those wounds through therapy and forgiveness, I have been able to convey that it wasn’t their fault. I honestly believe my parents did the best they could at the time while dealing with their own issues. For example, my mother’s own struggles with bipolar disorder, didn’t make it easy for her to raise a child, nor did it make it easy for my dad to cope with any of this;
• As much as the disease was destroying my life, I still felt a great sense of loss when I contemplated and started my recovery. Not to belittle the clinical term, but the closest way I can describe my experience is that it was like living through my own Stockholm syndrome. I had become attached to my abuser, the bully in my mind, who harmed me when telling me I had to purge, starve, exercise more, etc. It took a long time to admit to myself I deserved recovery and that my eating disorder wasn’t an integral or necessary part of my identity;
• That, unfortunately, dealing with my eating disorder will be a lifelong battle. Even though today, at almost 32 and recovered from bulimia now for 5 years, sometimes, when my parents make comments about how I look, I fight the urge to automatically think it’s related to my weight. On a rough day (which anyone can have now and then), a “simple” comment, like “You look tired” can make me feel like I’m inadequate in their eyes from a body image standpoint. The only difference is now, I consciously and actively try to reframe the comment in a different light.

I don’t think my story is unique, so I’m sure many of you have questioned how to share with those that raised you. I’d love to hear any stories you may want to share about things that you wish you could tell your parents about your eating disorder, but haven’t been able to yet. Or for those of you who have shared, how was the experience for you?

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