Over lunch we've just had another chat about things, using our Contract as a base for the discussion. I have outlined, again, what I plan to do in 2013 - and why. And also why he can trust me to not "go mad", "deceive" him and why I will - as I said to him - "do what's needed to get you where you need to be. You need to trust me on that. And you know why you need to get there."
But, oh, I could scream when he said: "Some days, though, like when we're having lamb or whatever, I'd prefer to only add half a tablespoon of oil to fry the onions in, not a full tablespoon".... SCREAM!
"I'm a bit concerned that you're thinking this way at this stage," I responded. "Most people just lob in the oil, butter or whatever - and they certainly don't go for half tablespoons of the stuff. Not unless they're on a strict slimming diet - and you're not."
"But I am getting all the fats I need..."
"That's why we're doing the experiment in January," I said. "To see if you are. And one day you'll have more, and another you'll have less but it needs to always be over the minimum. We are focusing on getting your brain healed and getting your life back."
And especially "scream" considering that it is now approximately 26 months since he first "turned a corner" in the recovery stakes. 26 months of slog and he still worries about bl**dy tablespoons of oil used to fry onions for the evening meal!
I know CAMHS and I didn't always see eye to eye, but I do miss their input - and it's nearly a year since Ben was discharged because he'd reached the age of 18.
He still believes he doesn't need any further professional help. But it is so incredibly hard for me to sort all this out alone. The fact that he is still arguing over half tablespoons of oil makes me feel as if I have failed this year and sometimes I wonder whether we'll be in exactly the same place this time next year.
If it was any other illness then your child would work with you hammer and tongs to ensure full recovery. But, as I think I said earlier this week, with eating disorders it's like the lifeboat sailing up to the sinking ship and offering to save everyone on board. But they refuse.
Crazy, but that's the way it is.
The even crazier thing is, as I said to my H on Saturday afternoon... what exactly is he still so afraid of? That he'll put on a few extra kilo and "get fat"? And then what? No-one will like him? He'll become unpopular? Like he used to think at the start when in pursuit of the all-important 'six-pack'.
Hello-o-o-o-o...? It's the eating disorder that's decimated his social life and popularity. If it was you or me we'd want to kick it out of our lives as fast as we could. Blimey if I thought a few extra kilo would heal my mind and make me want to live life again to the full... to get me back where I was all those years ago when I was the most popular boy in my social circle... I'd be eating food as if there was no tomorrow! Especially at this late stage. Has he learned nothing from this experience, I wonder? Can't he see how much the ED has stolen from his life? Why is he hanging onto it for dear life? Why can't he just say, at this stage, "Okay, mum, you do whatever it takes. You know what you're doing. Here, I am putty in your hands, do your stuff"?
Get my drift?
I just find it sooooo hard to understand.