Family therapy

Last week in family therapy I agreed that I would talk about my eating disorder this week. I thought a little bit about this week about what I was willing to share..... today I spilled everything. Just stared at the floor and talked. Told about my eating when I was just a tiny kid - 4 years old - and how that anxiety around food developed into a full blown eating disorder. I talked about the beginnings of the anorexia, and when the bulimia started. I talked about my diet pill overdose and the laxative abuse. I talked about lonely hospital stays, tubes, IVs, relapses, everything. And it was terrifying. I talked about Maudsley, and touched on how hard it was and how much if affected me, and my whole system.

And my parents - mostly my mom - responded. They agreed things were bad. They wish they could go back and change things, so that I didn't get sick. They wish we had gone back and done real family therapy instead of Maudsley... and they finally said words I've been waiting to hear for almost ten years... that all the chaos and horrible interactions in the house weren't my fault. I have felt for so many years that I ruined the family.... that it was ME who was the problem and not the family, and they said that it was a family problem. That we all needed help, we all needed to change, and the focus went to me.

But it was hard hearing responses from my parents... I saw the pain in their eyes and wanted to comfort them and tell them it's ok. But the thing is, it's not ok. What happened to me and the way my family approached my eating disorder just was not ok. It was abusive and harsh and not at all loving. The Maudsley approach is supposed to unite the family in a healing process... for us Maudsely tore a broken family even further apart.

And I am feeling angry. I have a lot of anger toward the professionals who steered our family in that direction. The doctor who decided that family based treatment was a good idea without even looking at the already hard family dynamics. The therapists who refused to listen to me when I begged and pleaded for a meal plan of my own. And anger toward my parents for feeding me hate.... for slamming me into walls, screaming, pulling knives, locking me in my room and out of the bathroom, refusing to let me be with friends, taking everything good out of my life. And for blaming my sister's anxiety on me. They told me that my sister's problems were MY fault. My parents didn't think to look at their own behavior, how maybe their younger daughter was suffering the same way their older daughter did because they were not creating a safe, loving environment. I moved out of the house at 16 believing, truly, that I was ruining my sister's life and that everyone would be better off without me in their lives.

So many emotions.
I want to cut, I want to scream, I want to purge... but I won't do those things. My parents want to make things up to me. I am angry, and that's ok, I have the right to be angry. Things CAN get better from here, and I am not done venting my feelings and frustrations and pain to them. They are in a safer place now, they can take care of their own emotions and handle my truth. Truth that needs to get out for my sanity and recovery.

I took a big leap of faith today. And I think it is the first of many leaps. I haven't even touched on the physical and sexual abuse yet. That will be even harder, I think, than my eating disorder story. I have so much inside me that is finally coming out, and I guess that's a good thing.
Maybe I'll write a book some day, who knows.

Anyway, I came home and had dinner and I am going to treat myself to a big, delicious frozen yogurt with banana and almonds tonight. I deserve it.
Therapy tomorrow, I will process everything. Oh therapy, I'm inundated!!!
Til later...