It's Okay That I'm Not Who I Thought I Would Be

A Letter to the Parent—From a Recovered Teen.

Written by an Anonymous Recover at Home Client (age 16) who is fully recovered

These are the very words that make or break a person. They're giving in and holding on; an excuse and a reason; liberation and defeat. They are the only lifeline of the quitter and the final reward of the survivor. That's why it was the first thing I knew and the last thing I admitted when I realized I was getting better — because sometimes, it's the getting better that nearly kills you.

If I'm being honest, my life hasn't been particularly tragic. My parents loved me the best they could, I did well in school, and nobody ever really made fun of me, even when they probably should have. Yet I still got sick. I was constantly put up against my sister and I won, but it didn't change anything. Maybe it couldn't change anything. I won, but it was already over.

I would say that's the most important lesson a family in the recovery process learns: that you can do right by your kid, or do what you think is right anyway, and they'll still end up sick. And then, if you messed up, you can do everything in your power to be there for them, to do a 180 and right your wrongs, but you just can't fix it.

It's probably not what you want to hear — that you can read a million books and talk to a million professionals and, nevertheless, you will never be able to heal your child on your own. However, coming from someone with personal experience, I can guarantee you that it is true — and whether or not it's your fault that they developed the eating disorder does not matter. It can't change the fact that struggling people need relatable mentors, both in age and in background. Moreover, it can't change the nature of a teenager.

Now, if there's a second thing I've learned, it's that my mom knows me better than most anyone does, and she spent my treatment process watching people misunderstand me. If your treatment process is/was anything like mine, you probably experienced the same, and it was probably a really terrible thing to witness.

For a long time, this prevented my parents from letting anyone else into our home. Residential became the bad guy, sure — and to an extent, it should be — but home wasn't the place where "getting better" happened. It was just a game to see how long I could fake a show before I went back to the hospital, and my parents let it happen because it wasn't all that much worse anyway.

I guess I should have been happy to have gotten away with it, but if I'm being honest, I wasn't.

Not only did I hate my mom for tiptoeing around me and letting me hurt (don't listen to your kid. Even if they don't want to go to treatment, they want you to care, and that's the only way to keep them safe), I also hated her for making me feel guilty for not trying, and all these negative emotions turned into a loathing towards her I didn't even want to feel.

The only way I was able to step away from those emotions and form a meaningful relationship with someone who could actually help me was when my parents relinquished control. In the end, I had to learn to hate myself whilst still choosing to do the right thing. Only then could I work on seeing myself in a different light.

You might be wondering how the first paragraph was relevant to all of this.

Well, everyone has a dream for their future, no matter how big or small, and when you're sick, you begin to build the rest of your life around the idea that you will be sick…forever.

You give up on your childhood dreams and resign yourself to the fact that you're not a good person, but it's "okay" because having an eating disorder is more important. And it can make you do terrible things that don't align with who you really are, things that start to feel normal, like necessary sacrifices to achieve those goals.

This means, no matter how observant of a parent you are or how much trust you have, I can tell you right now your child is going behind your back in little ways you couldn't begin to imagine. In ways that may seem harmless to those on the outside, yet couldn't be worse for the patient's brain (or body).

You'll start catching mixed signals, and it will give you whiplash. Things will go downhill so fast there isn't even time to consider another option, and before you know it, you'll be back where you started at some residential program in Texas.

But hope isn't lost yet.

If you're willing to release your grip a little and let an educated coach take over, your kid still has a chance. People with EDs have all the right tools to get themselves out of the tangle they unknowingly walked into, and all it takes is someone a little more like them to show them why they want to.

That single sentence can take on a new meaning, one of vitality, acceptance, and self-love. They literally just need the right person to help them help themselves, and that probably isn't you — but you can be a part of the healing process by finding that person.

If you get them a coach, a one-on-one who has recovered from the very same ED, the process can happen in your own home, where you feel comfortable and real changes can be made.

Things can go uphill so fast it gives you more whiplash, but, like, good whiplash that undoes the other whiplash, or something like that.

My point is that your kid needs you to see them, to understand that you can't understand what they're going through but you care nonetheless, and most of all, they need you to give them space for their best chance at recovery. I'm not who I thought I was going to be when I was little, nor am I who I thought I was going to be when I was sick.And realizing that there's no tragedy in letting go of a dream I can't carry with me is the best gift I've ever given myself.

I'm proud to have recovered and I do not regret my past. I'm a new person with new goals and a new pep in my stride. And I'm really not anything like the girl I thought I would be, but I sure am glad I'm free.

Editor's Note:
This piece was written by a former Recover at Home client who has since fully recovered from her eating disorder. She has chosen to share her experience anonymously in the hope that her story may help other families feel less alone.

The thoughts and experiences shared here are personal to the author and reflect her individual journey through recovery. They are not intended to represent every family's experience or serve as a substitute for individualized medical, nutritional, or mental health care.