A mother’s story
How could my adult daughter succumb to anorexia?
‘I hadn’t seen anyone go through an eating disorder, so didn’t know what it was like’
Food was always such an integral part of our family’s life, and mealtimes were the best part of the day, where my daughter Eve and I would eat and talk – and then eat and talk some more. A hearty dinner was something I kept going after Eve and her brother Sam’s father died when they were in their teens. I think it was my way of trying to keep the family together.
It was only when I made us a crumble for dessert – which she’d always loved – and she sat there, scraping off every last bit of the topping and then nibbling very cautiously at a couple of bits of fruit, that I realised she had a problem. It was agonising to watch.
When Eve started full-time work, she would “grab some food there” if she needed to stay late – then, she’d avoid dinner as she’d had a “big” lunch. If she ever ate at home, her portions became smaller and smaller, and she’d begun avoiding carbs as if they were the devil’s own work. I had never seen anyone go through an eating disorder, so I didn’t know what it looked like.
At 24, I didn’t believe my adult daughter could be caught in the grip of an issue commonly associated with teenagers – which makes it all the more concerning that videos glamorising eating disorders have been found in vast quantities online. Experts warned yesterday that YouTube, which is owned by Google, is endangering lives by allowing posts featuring emaciated youngsters boasting of their “thinspiration” – things that inspire them to stop eating – to pepper the internet. As Eve proved, you can be susceptible to these messages at any age. And the trend for “clean eating”, which encourages people to cut out food groups including carbohydrates, sugar and fat, didn’t help.
Along with her wildly altered eating habits, trips to the gym – formerly just to catch up with friends – increased. Suddenly, she was going alone, spending hours there before work or late at night.
It was clear Eve had a problem, even though she refused to admit it. It was only when I walked past her room as she was changing that I realised that no amount of coaxing was going to work. I was horrified when I saw just how much weight she had lost – she had always been petite, but I could now see the sharp angle of her shoulder blades and her ribs stuck out. She was tiny. She had pains in her legs when she walked and constant backache. Now, I understood why.
I sat on her bed and told her that I thought she had developed an eating disorder and needed professional help. We talked, and cried, and the next day Eve went to see the doctor. I was so relieved, but he was hopeless, his only advice being to tell Eve to “eat more”. He suggested that she return in three months’ time; had she left it that long, I am not sure she would still have been here.
After that, I left endless unanswered messages with the surgery, growing beside myself with panic. I did my own research to find what help was available, but the stumbling block came in the form of needing a referral letter, so I made another doctor’s appointment for the next week. By that point, she’d lost yet more weight.
This time I made sure I was with Eve when she saw the GP, insisting that he supply a referral letter so we could see a local specialist, which he told me would take “months”. Statistics last month from eating disorder charity Beat found that three in 10 sufferers are not referred for necessary, often life-saving, treatment – Eve could so easily been a part of that statistic.
Armed with the letter, I made an appointment with an eating disorders expert once or twice a week, who was a great support. It wasn’t cheap, but I didn’t care what it cost. I’d lost one member of my family and I wasn’t going to lose another one.
Luckily, within weeks we heard from the hospital and Eve was admitted to the day programme. By this time she was so weak, weighing just over five stone, that I think she realised she didn’t have a choice. The staff there were wonderful, but she was so unwell that she needed to be transferred for inpatient care before the week was out.
This was the lowest point. It was a locked ward and I was told to leave immediately as the patients were to spend the first week in bed, alone, so that they could “reflect” – whatever that meant. Eve was in a terrible state. I asked to see a doctor but no one was available. She was then jettisoned into a ward with no mental health workers, so no one to address any of the psychological issues associated with the illness. I was only allowed two hour-long visits a week. I have never felt so powerless and so frightened for her.
Eventually, Eve was released after two months and returned to the day unit; a year on, she is almost at her goal weight and is doing well. She has outpatient appointments and the doctor keeps a watchful eye on her.
My advice for any other parent? Know your child. If they are acting differently and their eating becomes disordered, speak to someone. And believe in your instinct: if you think there’s a problem, there probably is.