Life doesn't always come with an instructional manual. People don't always know how to act, what to say, or what to do when loved ones are in crisis. Sometimes, people say some really stupid things. Sometimes, these comments come out insensitive, and sometimes, the words just sound callous. Individuals' intentions are usually good, but often, people just don't think before speaking. It's human nature--I get that.
But here's what bugs me. When it comes to certain illnesses, like cancer, some types of comments are completely off limits. People never blame anyone with cancer for getting cancer, and no one offers litanies of advice for how to overcome it. With certain illnesses, we seem to have more sympathy and compassion, and because of that, people tend to think a little more carefully before speaking.
Eating disorders aren't one of those illnesses.
In my experience, people talk to me not from a place of concern, but from a place of blame. The $hit people say to me reveals an inner prejudice against eating disorders, as though I am personally culpable for my own suffering. And this, this is not only frustrating, but extremely hurtful and toxic.
Below are just a few of the comments close friends and family have said to me over the years (with some snarky responses I wish I had said):
* "I finally realized that I can't stop you if you want (are going) to kill yourself." Yes, I'm purposefully destroying myself because I enjoy how physically and mentally painful starvation is.
* "If you had to choose between eating a salad or a milkshake, which one would you choose?" Why on god's great earth would you ask an anorexic this?
* "What was your lowest weight?" Are you asking out of concern or some sick curiosity?
* "You know what to do [to recover]. You just have to do it. I can't help you any more." You're right--I'm choosing not to do what's necessary to get better because I just love being in the hospital.
* "You're thinking about more than just yourself." [When I explained how well I was maintaining recovery while trying to get pregnant.] Because we all know how selfish eating disorders are--how self-absorbed of me to have anorexia!
* "I don't understand why you just don't eat." Neither do I--and clearly neither does my treatment team or I'd be snarfing on a Whopper with delight right now.
* "We never hear from you. You should let us know how treatment is going. Text us how your day was." Oh, sorry I didn't think about updating you. I was too busy trying to save my life.
* "You're really consumed by this [recovery.]" Um, yeah, I kind of want to live.
* "You're really getting too old for this. When are you going to grow out of it?" Trust me, no one wants to spend her childbearing years threatening her fertility. If I could have turned it off, I'd be cradling a baby right now, not meal planning.
And this is the short list.
These comments, again, were spoken by those people who were closest to me, the ones who were supposedly part of my support network.
And again, I get that humans aren't always graceful in supporting loved ones, nor should perfection be expected. But I wish, so desperately wish, that people stopped thinking that eating disorders are a choice because no eating disorder is a choice. If people approached anorectics, bulimics, and binge-eaters with the perspective that eating disorders are genuine illnesses, some of the stupid $hit that would inevitably come out could be overlooked. But when people talk to eating disorder sufferers as though we are obstinate teenagers choosing not to listen, the stigma against mental illness grows.
I wish an instructional manual for life really did exist. I'd like to draft an entire chapter about treating individuals with eating disorders with dignity and compassion, the same dignity and compassion reserved for anyone suffering needlessly.
Cheers!
