Today's post is from the mother of a dancer who is in recovery from anorexia.
My daughter is Margaret Claire. She was a lovely, determined child. She
danced from the age of 4 and made a choice to pursue ballet. She was talented,
and when the time came to apply to colleges, she chose to major in dance.
Classically trained dancers are familiar with
disappointment. While they may take class with other dancers, dance is not a
“team sport”. Dancers are critical of themselves and constantly competing
against other dancers for roles. They
develop thick skin – on the outside.
Midway through her sophomore year in college, Margie called
and told me she had a problem: she
couldn’t eat. I didn’t understand what she meant until she came home for
Christmas. My lovely, confident, driven daughter was so thin, and I wanted to
hug away the pain I saw in her eyes. I was terrified, but certain that if I
made her favorite foods, she would eat. When she didn’t eat, I assured myself
she wouldn’t be purging because she would not be self-destructive…but she
was. She was starving herself, she was
purging, and eventually began cutting.
My daughter reached out for help, and I now know how
important that step was. She withdrew from college, came home, and began the
odyssey of her recovery. I enlisted the help of everyone I knew – our family
doctor, my daughter’s mentor, people in the dance community, family, and
friends.
It was most helpful when a therapist told me that I needed
to treat this diagnosis as if I’d been told my daughter had cancer or diabetes
or MS – a disease she had little to no control over.
Watching my daughter fight this disease was one of the most
difficult things I’ve had to face in my life. I remember feeling so low at
times, praying I could take away her pain for just a short while. I couldn’t
find any joy in living, knowing my daughter was hurting emotionally and was
close to her body physically giving up.
Over time she began feeling good, she was dancing again, she
enrolled in a college closer to home, therapy had worked, and she was in
recovery – until she relapsed.
This time her option for help was a 4-month long day
program. She once again dropped out of
school, her life was placed on hold, and I wondered if she would ever be okay.
I watched her fight hard – sometimes against the process,
sometimes against me, & sometimes against others who held her accountable
during her recovery. She fought the
disease!
Today, 6 years later, my daughter is in recovery. She
graduated from college with honors and has recently been accepted to a
prestigious graduate program.
Six years ago….
I had no idea what anorexia was.
I had no idea if my daughter would live
or die.
I had no idea how strong my daughter
is.
I had no idea if I would ever find joy
in life again.
I had no idea that I would be able to
laugh with my daughter again.
My daughter is Margaret Claire, and she is a lovely,
determined, focused young woman.
Diana Achee
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Diana Achee