“Mom, you’re not perfect. You don’t know everything, you know.”
If I had a dollar for every time my kids have reminded me of this over the years, I could fund my own therapy sessions. While I often feel the urge to argue back, deep down, their words resonate with me.
On October 20, 2016, I finally revealed a decade-long secret to someone beyond myself, my spouse, and my treatment team. I was a bundle of nerves, feeling that heart-pounding dread, the kind that makes you think, “I can’t do this.” This revelation was aimed at my two sons, who were 12 and 15 at the time.
My therapist, Emily, encouraged me to be honest with my kids, stressing that I was dealing with an illness, not a character flaw. I wasn’t entirely sold on this idea and wondered if my teenage boys would grasp that concept. After all, I’d invested so much time ensuring they felt safe and loved; I feared that learning about my struggle with a life-threatening illness would shatter that sense of safety.
In Emily’s office, my younger son, Leo, sat close to me, sensing the gravity of the moment, while my older son, Max, lounged across the room, wearing a typical teenage glare, clearly annoyed that therapy was interrupting his hangout time.
“So, guys,” I started, unsure if I could even say the words. Admitting I was far from perfect felt surreal. “I want to tell you that I’m going into treatment for an eating disorder, specifically, anorexia nervosa.”
The silence that followed was deafening. Leo leaned against me, while Max crossed his arms, a look of disbelief on his face. As soon as the words left my mouth, a wave of relief washed over me, as if the weight of the world was lifted.
“What?” Max exclaimed, breaking the silence. “Mom, that’s not possible! Anorexia is a teenage girl thing. How could you let this happen?” His voice was laced with a fierce intensity that caught me off guard. It struck me hard, echoing my own thoughts: how could I, the quintessential “I-have-it-all-together” mom, let this occur?
I could have easily kept my battle with anorexia hidden from my kids and maintained the facade of a perfect life. They were at an age where their friends and social media kept them distracted enough not to notice my increasing absences due to outpatient treatment. Yet, I chose to speak up, to share my struggles and my journey toward recovery.
As a parent, my instinct has always been to shield my children from life’s harsher truths, keeping the complexities of marriage, finances, and parenting tucked away from their world. But concealing my struggle with anorexia wasn’t truly protecting them. Max’s outburst that day stemmed not from anger but from fear; he had sensed something was amiss. Despite my attempts to appear fine, my frail frame and fixation on exercise and food didn’t go unnoticed. Kids have an uncanny ability to see through our parental pretenses.
The road to recovery has been challenging for all of us, but opening up to my kids has ultimately made me a better parent. They’ve had the chance to see that life can throw unexpected challenges our way and that seeking help is not something to be ashamed of.
Today, I’m grateful to be on the path to recovery, navigating the ups and downs of parenting during their tumultuous teenage years. In this era of social media, where kids are bombarded with images of seemingly perfect lives, my own experiences have provided them with a different perspective. I hope they’ve learned that imperfection is a part of life and that it’s perfectly okay to be human.
Taking that risk to share my truth with my kids has been worth every moment. I hope that this journey has taught them resilience and the importance of vulnerability. If you’re interested in more insights about navigating life’s challenges, you can check out this post on regulatory bodies for additional resources.
In summary, opening up about my eating disorder to my children was a terrifying yet transformative experience that deepened our connection and allowed them to see the importance of acknowledging struggles and seeking help.
Keyphrase: confessing eating disorder to children
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