healing is not linear - A Memoir by Frances Edelstein

Chapter 6: Eating at Home & Follow-Ups

Trigger warnings: self-deprecation, negative body image, eating disorder thoughts, forced eating, getting weighed, talk about menstruation

It was kind of scary going home this time. I wasn't ready to leave yet; I felt safe here, not having to think about what I was getting, and doing well with the food. I was afraid that I would eat too much once I left. It was terrible, but my anorexic thoughts convinced me that my mom would make me eat more food than I had to, or make it fattier somehow, and make me fat and ugly. It's horrible to think about how my mind made me turn against my mom like that, but with a lot of coaxing and her saying she would follow the strict regimen the doctors gave her, by the calorie, I started to calm down.

I'm not going to lie, eating at home felt more relaxed than I thought. It wasn't the hospital anymore, it was just a family dinner, with the added stress of the timer on the stove. I would look at it a lot, and I would try to focus on the conversation, but my mind kept focusing on the food, savoring every bite, enjoying the taste, and letting it last as much possible. Before I knew it, time was up, and I'd have to scarf down the rest of my meal. Since I was home and there weren't strict rules, my mom gave me an extra five minutes, but I definitely had to be done by then. I would sometimes purposely eat slow, because if I finished with time to spare, that meant I would be enjoying it, and in my mind enjoying food was not allowed yet. The timer became less daunting when it got nicer outside and we'd eat out there, where I couldn't see the timer, so I just had to use my judgement. Sometimes I'd have plenty of time to spare, and other times I'd be more behind than I expected.

I had to sit on the couch for a certain amount of time after eating, like the hospital, but it was better because I could plan it out by getting books or my laptop so I wasn't just thinking the whole time about what I ate. I also had to go to the bathroom a couple times during the waiting period, and my parents trusted me to go, so that was a relief.

My mom was very smart with adding butter to my meals and other things like that to make it much more manageable to finish eating within thirty minutes. At times, it made me scared. If this was a normal amount of food, but so many calories, what if she gives me a meal and I'm still hungry afterward? Would I have to starve to keep a healthy weight? What if I eat more than I have to and I gain more weight than I need? My mom comforted me and said if I ever am still hungry after a meal, I could eat more and she'd figure it out and alter the calories for the next time I ate. It made me feel much better, even though I don't think I was ever hungry after, per se; when I got more comfortable, I would ask to have a small chocolate after dinner (I still do that now. Everyone needs a sweet after a meal). It stressed me out, but I wanted it, so I finally agreed with my craving and had it. For a while after she made strict meals for me, I felt bad for eating the foods she made me when I wasn't allowed to choose; to me, those foods were too high in calories, because she made it specifically for me to gain weight. Over time, I forced myself to eat those foods, and I felt more relaxed about it. (You've probably noticed the pattern of how impactful exposure therapy can be, in a great way.)

We still had to go to doctor's appointments once a week, or once every two weeks. I would meet with one doctor who would focus on my weight gain and getting my period back (since I starved myself for so long, I developed amenorrhea, which is basically the loss of your period, so I had to keep visiting her until I got it back, which meant I was officially physically healthy again). The other doctor I would see was a psychologist, who would talk to me about my disordered eating habits and thoughts, and help me think through them. She would later help me with my anxiety as well as refer me to a psychiatrist and OCD doctor, when my OCD thoughts and compulsions came back.

I used the timer for a while, but one day, my brother's friend came over for dinner, and I was embarrassed to use it in front of him, so we didn't set it, and I was finished within thirty minutes, and we pretty much never used the timer again. As long as I was done around the same time as everyone else, it was fine. Slowly but surely, meals seemed to be a normal family event again.