Nearsighted Choosing to See Eating Disorders Differently

By Karen Smith

Why can't your loved one see their eating disorder is killing them?

Loving people with eating disorders is complicated, fraught with misunderstandings. You encourage your loved one to eat, but they withdraw and refuse. They might scream for you to stop trying to control them.

Why is eating s

• Language: English
• Publisher: Karen Kay Smith
• Release date: May 12, 2021
• ISBN: 9781087965529

Karen Smith

Karen Smith is Reader in Higher Education in the School of Education at the University of Hertfordshire. Her research focuses on how higher education policies and practices impact on those who work and study within universities. Karen has worked within educational development and on lecturer development programmes. She holds a Principal Fellowship of the Higher Education Academy and is currently the Director of the University of Hertfordshire’s Professional Doctorate in Education. Karen also leads collaborative research and development in her School, where she engages in externally funded research and evaluation and supports the development of scholarly educational practice through practitioner research.

Book preview

1

It’s Not All about Self-Image

The life of an anorexic is an experience I never dreamed I would have, yet I find myself smaller than I was in middle school, struggling to put food in my mouth. Most people sit down at the table and enjoy dinner together, but I stare at a plate of food and cry. Anxiety wells up within me. Thoughts race through my mind. How can I rearrange my food so it looks like I’ve eaten? Will people notice if I don’t fix myself a plate? What excuse am I going to use for my lack of appetite?

After church on Sunday, I pray fervently: Jesus, please don’t let anyone invite us out for lunch today. When the dining out experience arrives, panic enters my heart and mind. Deep breaths, Karen. You can do this. The next debilitating thought races through my mind, and I utter another panic-filled prayer. Jesus, please don’t let them try to pay for our meal. I do not want to be rude, but I also don’t want to waste their money by ordering and not eating. My anxiety overflows when someone else pays.

The truth is, I have no appetite. Nothing tastes good. I no longer have a favorite food; everything I eat makes the inside of my mouth tingle and my stomach feel nauseated. Once the food is in my mouth, I want to spit it out.

The smell of food is repulsive, reminiscent of pregnancy morning sickness. Cooking dinner is a difficult task to complete. What is wrong with me? I wonder.

The scenario worsens, and eventually I find myself in an emergency room where a doctor tells me my heart is not working correctly, and there is nothing they can do. A nurse informs me I have anorexia. It is so matter-of-fact for them—but for me, it’s confusing. I don’t understand what’s happening. I’m afraid. I’m fearful that my family and friends will be angry; I’m scared of disappointing people. Never once am I worried for myself. I am only afraid of what other people are going to think.

What about God? My faith? How disappointed is God with me? Where is my hope? I hear people using words and phrases I’ve found myself saying when other people face difficult situations, but my ears reject their words. Their platitudes don’t bless me; they anger me. God does not see me; He does not care! I don’t want faith anymore. I am letting mine go in this place.

The list feels overwhelming—the things the emergency room doctor said I needed to do to properly fuel my body. I need a minimum number of calories to function since my fat stores are gone. I can’t eat that many calories. I can’t. In my mind, it is utterly impossible. Why even try, I think. It will be another area in life where I won’t measure up. Why add another shortcoming to my list?

I am weary. There’s no energy to fight for my own life. I have spent all my energy caring for others. I am unable to free myself—yet no one else can free me, either.

People beg me to eat three more bites. I refuse. My family does not understand how hard it is to put a bite of food in my mouth. My children look at me and wonder why I’m crying at dinner. My friends have no idea how difficult it is to drink a glass of water. I am alone in my world. No one can get in; no one can understand. I am stuck.

I would give anything to be able to explain to people what is going on inside of me, but I can’t find the right words. I would be pleased if my friends and family could understand the energy it takes to face a plate of food. If they could see things differently—if they could see food the way I do—then they would love me. I would not be a disappointment. If others could see things as I do, I would feel cared for and not condemned, my spirit would be encouraged and not beat down,

and my heart would be full of hope again. Instead, I sit in my world: alone, afraid, insecure, exhausted, and without hope.

False Perceptions

It is amazing how things viewed from afar are seen differently up close. I look back at the days like the ones I just described, cycling between denial and trying to live life. I wanted people to be near me so they could understand what was happening—but no matter how close they were allowed, they were still nearsighted, never quite able to see the full picture. I longed for others to see.

One night, I heard a noise coming from my living area. It was in the wee hours of the morning. I tiptoed out of my bedroom door and peeked my head around the corner to look into the darkened living room. Near the fireplace, I saw an outline of a person hiding. I quietly tiptoed back into my bedroom and woke my husband. Fearful words spilled out of my mouth: There is someone in our living room. I heard them, and when I walked in, I saw them. In the middle of the night, the fogginess of REM sleep keeps the mind from thinking clearly, but my awesome husband dragged himself out of bed and into the living room. Bravely, he walked close and proved that there was no one hiding in the corner; it was merely a shadow. Embarrassed, I returned to bed, wondering how in the world I could have believed someone was hiding in my living room.

In the same way, false perceptions can happen when we watch a loved one wrestle with an eating disorder. Those on the sidelines may have inaccurate views of exactly what it is like to live with an eating disorder or may believe they would make different choices if they were in the same situation. False perceptions can lead to uneducated opinions, unrealistic judgments, and undesirable results.

I understand false perceptions, especially when it comes to a topic like eating disorders. Before my own experience, I always thought eating disorders were for young girls who wanted to be skinny. Never did I dream I would become an unsuspecting victim. I was a mom, a wife, a Christian. I was in my forties. Surely those factors made me immune.

At the time, my life was busy and complicated. A child, two teenagers, and a spouse declining with multiple sclerosis (MS) kept my calendar overflowing with appointments and activities. During this season, temporomandibular joint (TMJ) surgery became a necessity for me, a reality that limited my intake to soft foods.

However, TMJ recovery was not the beginning of my issues; anorexia had started creeping in years before the surgery. I was uneducated on the roles that stress and trauma play in anorexia, and never dreamed my personal struggles would spill over into my relationship with food and leave me fighting to survive. As I began to understand what was happening in my life, I encountered others’ uneducated opinions and judgments. As a result, relationships I once treasured became strained.

I have often wished I could go back and walk through the process differently. What God has impressed on my heart is that though I do not get a do-over, I do have the privilege of helping others respond differently. Because of my experience, I desire to help others understand how to love and care for their loved ones who face this battle as well.

Years later, I still encounter situations where I need God’s love to radiate into my own life, healing the pain of that season. Sometimes the unhealed pain stems from people who missed the mark in demonstrating their love. Other times, it’s the result of distress over the perceived thoughts of others toward me or a lingering sadness over relationships that floundered and require forgiveness on both sides. It is from firsthand experience and a heart for coming alongside those experiencing emotional battles that I write this book.

More than a Self-Image Struggle

As I began to research anorexia, I scoured the internet. I wanted to understand how I could have been caught off-guard by an eating disorder and how others might also be unprepared. In my reading, I found that, more often than not, self-image struggles are a major contributing factor. Though I believed that to be true, I wondered if there were other contributing factors, as well. The question arose in my heart: Could someone without self-image issues struggle with an eating disorder? After all, I didn’t feel bad about myself. I didn’t think I was overweight. I didn’t endure teasing or develop unhealthy fears about my weight. As I researched further, I quickly realized that many of the girls and women with eating disorders also experienced traumatic events in their lives. Yes, someone like me could struggle with an eating disorder and not have self-image issues. The only major contributing factor I had experienced was trauma.

The Mayo Health Clinic confirmed my observation on the role of trauma: It’s an extremely unhealthy and sometimes life-threatening way to try to cope with emotional problems (Mayo Health Clinic 2018). This line filled me with hope, not because there are unsuspecting victims, but because knowledgeable medical staff had made the same observation I had: emotional problems other than self-image can be a factor in eating disorders. Later in this same article, the writer listed additional risks including biological factors, dieting, and transitions: Whether it's a new school, home or job; a relationship breakup; or the death or illness of a loved one, change can bring emotional stress and increase the risk of anorexia (Mayo Health Clinic 2018).

There are often much deeper issues underlying poor self-image that need to be uncovered. Since eating disorders are about control, we must start by considering trauma or transitions. Not recognizing the danger,