Living with Ruby!

Last week I asked my mother if she would write a post on what it's like to live with someone who has an eating disorder.
I thought it would be insightful to get a family members point of view.
She actually wrote in letter form.
She said it was painful to write and it was also painful for me to read.
So here it is, please feel free to leave comments as she would love to get some feedback.


Dear Ruby,
                  You've asked me to write about life with you.  Here goes - deep breaths!
Well it's not always easy.  Ruby you are my beautiful, precious youngest daughter and for most of your adult life you seem to be hell bent on self destruction, why?  I wish I knew.  Do you know? 

                   You were a lovely child, full of energy and joie de vivre.  Endlessly curious, friendly, out going, passionate about dancing and swimming.  Your friends loved you.  I remember your uncle saying that you had such a sweet mischievous face.  You were fun loving.  Life was good.  But - there's always a but!  You enjoyed taking risks.  I remember when you were about 6 or 7, we were walking beside a river with your grandad.  The river was fast flowing and deep.  When I looked behind for you, you had climbed onto  the wall alongside the river and were skipping along blissfully oblivious to the danger.  Or maybe you were courting the danger.  I don't know.

                  Your adult life has followed that pattern.  You grew from a lovely child into a beautiful young woman.  But you didn't like yourself.  You wanted to harm yourself.  Danger constantly called.  You were attracted to people living on the margins. Although you are a highly intelligent and moral person, danger seems to fascinate and entice you and all too often wins your heart.  You struggled with your addiction to heroin for many years.  Those years for me were a continual nightmare of heartbreak, anger and frustration.  Where was my precious girl?  Had you someplace safe to sleep?  Who were you with?  Were you alive or dead?  I dreaded phone calls.  I imagine hell to be similar to that time of torment.  But you had the courage to move away from that lifestyle.  You beat heroin.  I have endless admiration for your courage, strength and determination.

                 Your eating disorder makes me feel so sad.  I'm helpless.  I, your mother who should be able to protect you can do nothing in the face of this unrelenting disease.  I see you wasting away in front of me, living a non-life.  Your best years slipping and sliding away from you.  Bingeing and purging.  From kitchen to bathroom  Kitchen to bathroom.  Kitchen to bathroom.  Restricting when you imagine you are putting on weight.  Starving yourself.  Listless and limp.  Always cold.

                  And Mondays - I hate Mondays.  You go to the doctor, walk the dogs, come home, blog and take most of your meds.  You knock yourself out.  You waken intermittently, go to the kitchen, make tea, bring it in to the sitting room, light a cigarette and fall asleep where ever you land.  When I come home from collecting your nephew and leaving him at his house, I always look in the window first.  Are you safe?  Is it safe to come in.

                     I love you.  I'd give anything to make you well and healthy.  To see you well and healthy, brimming with confidence would be the best gift.  To see you living your life would be wonderful beyond words.  I know you have the strength to get well.  I know you have the courage.  You've beaten the most difficult addiction of all.  Please try to want to get well.  Please try to want to live.

                                                             Lots of love,
                                                                                  Mam x