Part Two... of some notes I kept as a record of what was going on in the lead up to Christmas 2009.
Ben's emerging eating disorder had begun to be evident during that summer and by autumn, I was desperately trying to get him diagnosed with anorexia and referred for eating disorder treatment.
I'm wondering if any of this rings a bell with you, if you're worried your son might be developing an eating disorder? That's why I've decided to publish this document. It's quite lengthy, so this is Part Two.
From my Notes.docx file (Part Two):
October 2009
A typical day might go like this…
Getting teenagers ready for school is a nightmare at the best of times. But getting an anorexia teenager ready for school is a million times worse. Every single morning was a battle. Not 'your usual' teenage battle, but something altogether worse and much, much darker. Even before we left the house we'd have screaming ED rages which meant verbal abuse all the way to the bus stop or complete silence, usually lots of tears and finally the violent slamming of the rear passenger car door as the incredibly distressed 16 year old slunked off down the hill to the bus stop to stand way apart from the other kids.
I would invariably drive back home in tears, unable to cope with the morning ahead - and definitely unable to work.
Within an hour or so I'd get the first text. Sometimes it would be on my mobile; other times it would be one of those sinister 'robotic' voices you get when voice texts on the land line which would be even more sinister and frightening with the robotic woman's voice relaying Ben's latest anorexia-fuelled message along the lines of "I can't go on like this" or similar...
Meanwhile, at school, Ben might be locked in the toilets, keeping away from people - or hiding away somewhere in the school. He might not turn up for a lesson - or he might walk out.
This was totally uncharacteristic of Ben who, before the anorexia, had been a well-respected, conscientious and immaculately behaved boy - a star pupil, academically and on the sporting front.
With anorexia comes the need for compulsive exercise and he'd ask to be excused to visit the toilet only to snatch the opportunity to run round the grounds a couple of times.
A typical school dinner with his anorexia would comprise a bit of salad and some fruit, maybe a small bowl of soup, but not always.
I'd be in regular contact with the school nurse who was well aware of Ben's anorexia and hugely supportive. Often she'd have to rescue Ben from the toilets or act as 'agony aunt' when Ben used the school medical centre as a bolt hole. And she or Ben would call me, asking me to pick him up on days when the anorexia meant that school got too much for him.
Once Ben bolted out of the school dining room, the anorexia making him unable to cope with the pressure. A member of staff ran after him as Ben headed across the school field towards the river, thankfully catching up with him and bringing him back to school.
Another time Ben stormed noisily out of class and had to be restrained by staff. He ended up in the Deputy Head's office and I had to come to school to collect him.
On days when he managed to stay until 4pm, my anxiety levels would be sky high as I drove to school or to the school bus to pick him up. I never knew what kind of mood he would be in, but I'd have a pretty good idea...
Separate from all the normal looking, chatting and joking school kids would come Ben - getting thinner and paler by the day with black rings round his eyes. His mood would be rock bottom and he'd either remain in total silence or have frightening outbursts on the way home - a known side-effect of anorexia.
Teatime would be a nightmare as the anorexia meant that Ben ate next to nothing. Dessert would always comprise dried fruit which he would ritualistically chop up into tiny pieces, taking ages over the process.
My anxiety levels would be primed for the regular disturbance at mealtimes. Something, perhaps the fact the food wasn't piping hot - or there was a food that freaked him out on the plate - or, more often than not, the portion size was too large or too small (because the anorexia made it impossible for Ben to gauge what a normal human portion size of food was), would result in him slamming down his knife and fork and storming out of the room.
Outside the room the anorexia would make him stamp and crash around, thumping things and bashing his head against the wall while screaming in agony like a primeval animal in pain. Or he might break crockery.
It was absolutely terrifying for me to watch this or know how to cope. All the anorexia advice says that you should remain calm and supportive, but it's virtually impossible to do that when your child is behaving like this.
As things gradually improved over time (a small bit) he might come back into the dining room and resume eating, always acting as if nothing had happened, but in an ultra-stressed and silent way that made me terrified to say anything in case the anorexia behaviour kicked off again.
The rest of the evening would be a mix of violent tears and hysterics; the transformation which anorexia had on my son was astonishing. He was a completely different boy - deeply depressed and howling like an animal in pain. I'd try to talk things through with him, sometimes reasonably successfully and other times not, but always knowing that whatever was said or agreed would be forgotten by the next day. It wasn't that he didn't want to keep his promises and resolutions; the anorexia had made it so he couldn't. The anorexia was in total control.
So I'd go to bed dreading what anorexia would bring me the next day which, for me, would often start before dawn as a sleepless me sat in the living room nursing a coffee and biscuits.
[end of part one - see next post for part three]
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