My son, Ben, was under the treatment of CAMHS (Child and Adolescent Mental Health Services) from February 2010 until he reached the age of 18 in 2012. The treatment was old-style - talking Ben into 'wanting to recover', allowing him to know his weight gain or loss and also allowing him to be in charge of his own meals. Although I was included in some of the 60-minutes-a-week sessions, I was definitely not seen as an integral part of his recovery from anorexia - except as someone who should keep quiet and let Ben do things himself, his own way.
Or the eating disorder's way.
I was being instructed to back off. I was seen as over-anxious, nagging, getting in the way of things...
And the episode that always springs to mind is what was said before we went on that disastrous holiday to France in summer 2010.
It is jaw-droppingly mind-blowing and the emotions I feel about it today are as raw as they were back then.
Anger, impotence, fear, dread - and being encouraged to back off and let Ben deal with his eating disorder his way.
The CAMHS session came shortly after that evening when Ben tried to climb out of the attic window onto the house roof, followed by the email he sent to his friend saying: 'Give me one reason why I should carry on living.' I called CAMHS as a result and spoke to a Duty Psychiatrist who said nothing could be done unless Ben actually harmed himself and that 'CAMHS isn't a 24-hour emergency service'.
So there we were, at the next CAMHS session, about to go on holiday to France - a holiday I'd very nearly cancelled right up to the date we left.
I remember CAMHS saying to us: 'The eating disorder is taking its toll on all of you. I think your holiday will be a great opportunity to take a break from it, to put the eating disorder on a back-burner and have a normal relaxing family holiday.'
'And tell HER, she mustn't nag me,' growled Ben.
'I think it will be helpful to all of you if you avoid talking about the eating disorder,' CAMHS continued. 'Just try to have a nice normal happy family holiday.'
'Tell her SHE mustn't mention food or weight,' Ben growled again. 'Make HER agree.'
That was the French holiday when I had to swim out to sea to stop Ben robotically swimming further and further out into the estuary.
If I hadn't done that, who knows what might have happened...
And I'm still astonished that we both made it back to the beach because we were a heck of a long way out at sea.
Fifteen years on, my anger and extreme sadness about the way my hands were tied... the way obstacles to Ben's recovery from anorexia were being put up everywhere around us... the way I, as his mum, was gagged and encouraged not to interfere... my emotions are as raw today as they were back then.
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