A Client’s Story: Learning that Her Daughter has Bulimia
This is a guest blog post by the mother of one of my past clients. It was a speech she gave at an event I organized many years ago through my non-profit organization, Shelley’s Angels, to raise money for those who couldn’t afford treatment. I hope it inspires you. ~ Shelley
I am the proud mom of Lori. I learned the true meaning of unconditional love when Lori told me that she had bulimia and needed my help. All the skills I learned in my 30+ years of being an elementary school teacher did not prepare me for the emotional journey ahead of me. Instead, I fell back on my “mother’s instincts” to protect my child.
Thinking back, life at our house seemed perfect. We had two children with active lifestyles, good grades and lots of friends. My husband was involved in both children’s sports teams and I was involved with Lori’s dance studio. We travelled often as a family and had lots of quality family time. Lori and I had our talking time driving to and from the dance studio and had endless conversations about everything – or so it seemed…
I remember the night well. It was about 11pm on April 1st, 1998. Lori was 15. She silently beckoned me to follow her upstairs. Sitting on my bed, she just looked vacantly at me and started crying. I had no idea what she was about to tell me. Many thoughts raced through my mind as she sobbed and disclosed the secret of her bulimia.
I had NO idea. And I had no time to think about my feelings or question why. I just went into a “mom protecting her baby” mode. It was the most emotional night of my life. Over the next hour, she cried and cried and talked and talked. I felt helpless but knew that it was not the time to deal with MY feelings. I just held her. I listened.
She told me that she had gone to her high school counsellor, an incredible woman who listened to her with the patience of an angel. The counsellor put a name to what Lori was experiencing: bulimia. The counsellor gave Lori a number to call for help but she was told that there was a one-year wait list to see someone. For emergencies, it was three months.
So, we waited. Three months passed and still no appointment. (I found that during this phase Lori was taking everything literally, so she knew exactly when three months had passed). She then turned to me and asked if there was anything else we could do. I knew I would have to do everything possible to get her the help that she so desperately needed, even though I had no idea how.
I called our local crisis centre and was lucky enough to get an understanding and caring person on the other end. I explained as best I could. My thoughts were racing and I was trying to organize them so I sounded coherent.
After answering a lot of questions, the voice on the other end of the line asked, “Do you think your daughter is suicidal?” I was at a loss for words but I had to hold it together for my daughter’s sake. “Truthfully,” I said, “I don’t know,” as I hadn’t even thought it could be a possibility. Then she needed to talk to Lori.
I left the room to give her privacy and ran downstairs to talk to my husband. I told him the details as fast as I could and, leaving him in shock, I raced back up to Lori, who was just finishing her call. The crisis worker calmed our anxieties with her reassurances: “I don’t think Lori is suicidal. We’ve had a long talk and I think she is totally exhausted, all cried out. I think she is ready for a good night’s sleep. I’m sending in a report to fast-track counselling for her.” I was so grateful to this stranger for advocating on our behalf. We were in!
Lori slept most of the next day. When she finally woke up she seemed to have the weight of the world lifted from her shoulders. The immediate crisis was over. I went to work that day and thought I was handling everything masterfully until I started talking about it to my wonderful colleagues.
I totally broke down. Someone had to cover my class and I just blubbered on. It was as if all my emotions were bottled up; in the safety net of my friendships, they were let loose. All the emotions of helplessness and guilt came pouring out. I was a professional. I work with children all day; I know the warning signs. How did I miss this with my OWN child? By the end of the day, everyone on staff seemed to have contacted someone they knew that could help or had information for me.
The next step was to take Lori to the family doctor. Over the next three weeks, Lori put on a happy face, competed superbly in three dance competitions, performed in a show and started teaching dance out of our basement studio. The crisis seemed to be over and speaking out gave her a calm while she waited for her appointment.
My husband and I were so thankful for the support from everyone around us: the counsellor and teachers at Lori’s school, the dance studio and all our friends. My husband and I got counselling for ourselves, too, and I was in charge of telling family members.
After a three-week wait, Lori saw a counsellor, doctor and nutritionist through the Ministry of Children’s Services. Weekly counselling sessions continued throughout the last two months of her grade 10 year.
Lori was then put in group therapy, where she started questioning the whys of her eating disorder and was coming to terms with her poor body image. Meeting girls from all different backgrounds made her appreciate her home support. I was starting to let go and was trying to be less watchful and more confident that the counselling was helping.
She stayed in counselling over the next year, eventually going down to one or two sessions per month. The next March, she declared herself recovered (and I believed her) and was moving on with her life.
By her grade 12 year, Lori seemed to be doing really well but over the Christmas holidays I noticed sadness in her demeanor. I found out later that she had relapsed and was afraid and ashamed to ask for help again. (She said she felt like too much of a failure.)
In a panic, she started searching for some help on her own. This is when she found Shelley Jensen, who was normally waitlisted for months but had a cancellation and agreed to talk to Lori. These two special people were destined to meet and impact each other’s lives. Shelley gave Lori the tools and step-by-step strategies to deal with her demons and recover from this awful disease. For this I thank Shelley with all my heart.
This was just the beginning of a few more years in Lori’s journey to full recovery, with many more ups and downs, but it was a pivotal time.
My personal experience has taught me a few things I’d like to share. For parents who are dealing with a child that has an eating disorder, these are the things that I think are the most important for both your child and your own mental health:
Surround yourself with supportive people and talk to your friends. If you need more support, find your own therapist to support you.
Give your child unconditional love. They’re in a vulnerable state and need to know you’re there for them, even if they feel like they’re doing everything wrong.
Don’t let your guilt take over or blame yourself for what is happening. We’re all imperfect but you didn’t cause your child’s eating disorder. These illnesses are much more complicated than that!
Be aggressive in getting help for your child. Make those phone calls and ask for help, even when the doors seem to be closed. Keep pushing them open.
Above all, don’t give up. Recovery is possible. I watched it happen.
– written by May
Reach out to Shelley Jensen at +1 (604) 670-1721 or by email to set up your free, half-hour consultation. Sessions are always confidential.