I am proud and delighted to offer up another post by guest blogger, Dan D - a friend and a Dad whose daughter suffers from Bulimia. Perfectionism is a common characteristic of people with Eating Disorders. I’m sure you’ll agree that Dan puts it in perspective and illustrates again how complex and confounding Eating Disorders are.
Thanks, Dan, for you insight and your willingness to share your experiences with our readers. It’s a great help to me, for one.
Dexter
__________________________________
Our daughter is a magical girl. As parents, we love her deeply and want only good things to happen to her. She’s one of four children that we have and our desire for each of them is to succeed beyond their dreams. And we want them to dream big.
We’ve all learned a tremendous amount while going through her struggle with Bulimia and the co-addictions that accompanied the eating disorder (ED). My wife and I were dumbfounded to find out that a very high percentage of girls with ED’s are perfectionists.
What we thought was procrastination, or no commitment, was actually the result of a mistake made along the way. For example, my daughter was given a take-home art project that was due in 2 weeks. We saw her start on it and watched as it progressed. Each day something new was added. With three days remaining to complete it, her work stopped. The project, by all appearances was not complete. The due date came and we saw the project still settled in her room. She didn’t turn it in. Her grade was a zero. I interpreted her behavior as apathy and laziness and reprimanded her accordingly. Wow. I could not have been more wrong.
My daughter is a perfectionist. Whether athletics or academics, if it wasn’t the “best” it was completely unacceptable in her mind. Mistakes were not permissible in her world. They were synonymous with “Failure” with a capital F. In fact, she would get a 0 or F, rather than turn-in a project that was not perfect. As a dad, that’s a paradox that I just can’t get my arms around. It makes no sense at all. She personified the “all-or-nothing” approach. To me, there’s a lot of space between F and A+. But she couldn’t see the many degrees, only the extremes.
She came home from treatment on a Wednesday. She had been away for 60 days – 45 in a very controlled environment and 15 more in a transitional, but monitored setting. She felt strong and confident about her recovery and was excited to come back. She was justifiably anxious about re-entry, and so were we. One of my primary concerns was her group of “friends.” But we discussed it with her and her therapists and we had some semblance of peace. My wife and I had spoken with a few of her friends individually before our daughter came home. She also realized that some relationships needed to be severed. We prepared for her homecoming the best we could. Our plan was to be very low-key and slowly introduce activities, friends, and commitments. It was our objective to “plan her life around her recovery, and NOT, her recovery around her life”. That’s a subtle, but extremely important difference.
On Friday, my daughter had appointments with 3 members of her local support team. She met with the first 2 and the 3rd cancelled due to illness. We did several “feelings checks” throughout the day and all was going well. She made plans to attend an annual, school function that night and we decided to allow it.
The school event was scheduled to end by 10:00 PM and we expected our daughter and her friend to be back by 11 or 11:15. At 11:15 we started calling her cell phone and she didn’t answer. Our antennae started twitching. Shortly after, the mother of the girl our daughter was with, called us asking if we knew where they were? We assumed they were on their way home. We continued to try reaching our daughter on her cell phone. She didn’t answer. By midnight, we were very anxious and concerned. At 12:15 she texted my wife’s cell phone and told her she was on the way. At 12:30 she pulled up. My wife and I had used the 15-minute gap to discuss how we would respond to what we might see. We were ready. When our daughter walked in the door, she was noticeably under the influence of something. We saw her dilated pupils and heard her slow, deliberate speech. Our fears were confirmed. Our daughter had officially “slipped” just two days after getting back.
My wife and I realized that the next several hours were going to be extremely critical in the recovery process of our daughter. How we responded to her and this incident could affect her entire life. It is that critical. Through the training we received at Family Week, we knew to look for specific signs in her expressions and countenance. We recognized the presence of “shame” and “regret”. So, instead of anger and disappointment, we felt compassion and concern. We were all being tested.
Having been prepared for the worst, my wife and I escorted our daughter to the kitchen table and calmly began the process of determining what happened. About 5 minutes into the discussion, she revealed that her friend, who was too afraid to go home and face her own parents, was still out in the car. I took a break to drive her home and deliver a much-loved daughter to two very concerned parents. (My daughter’s friend is also going through recovery of substance abuse. We thought that would cause them to support each other if anything did happen.) During the short drive to her house, I asked the friend what had happened and who they were with? This turned out to be very helpful so we could compare stories.
As we listened to our daughter and the events of the evening unfolded, my wife and I noticed she was not being totally forthcoming with us. So we probed. I asked who she was with. Her answer was elusive. There was a particular young man who we did not want our daughter to see, at least not yet. This guy was the common denominator in my daughter’s co-addiction episodes. She believes he is a “good guy”, “like a brother” to her. She couldn’t see the damage he had done in her life. I asked if she had been with him. She had. Even sitting at the table, in her altered state, she defended him. Anger and sadness began to overtake my emotions. Then I saw my daughter begin to lose her esteem before my very eyes. The hope that was in her was seeping away.
Her “perfectionist” nature was quickly becoming an entity that demanded all of our attention. Her alter-ego, ED, was beginning to tell her she wasn’t perfect. That she was a failure. My mind’s eye flashed an image of the unfinished art project sitting on a desk. This same girl had abandoned it and took a zero grade because of a slight mistake. My very perceptive wife recognized the change in our daughter as well, and we immediately addressed it. We remained calm and assured her that we loved her no matter what happened. We reminded her of her therapy and that what happened was a “slip”, not a relapse. Mistakes are okay. We all make them. We helped her to talk through the process of picking-up from here and to keep moving forward. We did a lot of listening and comforting. 30 minutes later, we all went to bed. My daughter’s last words, and I’ll never forget them, were, “I can’t wait to get-up tomorrow and put this behind me.” And that’s what happened. She got out of bed on Saturday and continued to take steps forward.
While recovering, when discussing the possibility of a “slip”, it’s not “if” it’s “when.” My daughter’s took place just two days after she was home. I don’t know if that’s good or not. I do know that it served as a very real reminder to us all that this is not easy. ED is a big, ugly monster that doesn’t like his possessions taken away. Our daughter’s image used to sit on his trophy shelf. He’s not giving her up without a fight. Our job is to stay well armed and prepared for confrontation. My daughter tried to move too fast into her next phase of life. She didn’t realize the power of ED and how aggressive and controlling he and his co-addiction comrades can be. My daughter has a renewed respect for the magnitude of the problem she’s trying to overcome. And so do we.
Dan D




