“Mom, you’re not infallible. You know that, right?”
If I had a matching pair of socks for every time I’ve heard that from my children, I could save a lot of time each morning. As much as I often feel the urge to contest their claims, those words strike a chord deep within me.
On October 20, 2016, I finally shared a secret I had kept for over a decade — my struggle with an eating disorder — with my two sons, who were then 12 and 15. The anxiety I felt was overwhelming, the kind that makes your heart race and your palms sweat. I was about to reveal my truth to them, and I was terrified.
My therapist, Laura, encouraged me to be honest with my boys, reminding me that I was dealing with an illness, not a personal failing. Still, I was unsure if two teenage boys would understand that distinction. I had spent years ensuring they felt secure and loved, and I feared that this revelation would shatter that sense of safety.
In the therapist’s office, my youngest son, Ethan, sat beside me, sensing something significant was about to unfold. My eldest, Jake, lounged in a chair across from me, wearing the typical teenage scowl that suggested I was interrupting his plans.
“So, guys,” I began, grappling with the weight of my admission, “I want to tell you that I’m going to seek treatment for an eating disorder, specifically anorexia nervosa.”
The room fell silent; Ethan rested his head on my shoulder, while Jake’s arms crossed defensively. Just uttering those words brought a wave of relief, like a cool breeze on a hot day. The secret that had weighed on me was finally out.
“What?” Jake exclaimed, breaking the tension. “Mom, you can’t have anorexia! That’s something that only affects teenage girls! How did this happen?” His reaction stunned me, and even Laura seemed taken aback. His words echoed my own internal struggle. How could I, the one who seemed to have it all figured out, be in this position?
I could have easily hidden my eating disorder and the recovery process from my children, maintaining the illusion of a perfect life. After all, my boys were busy with their own lives, often distracted by friends and social media. They might not have noticed my increasing absence as I sought outpatient treatment. But instead of hiding, I chose to share my struggles with them.
As a parent, I instinctively wanted to shield my children from harsh realities, keeping the complexities of marriage, parenting, and finances away from their youthful experiences. However, I realized that by concealing my battle with anorexia, I was not protecting them at all. Jake’s outburst stemmed from years of unexpressed concern. My frail appearance, obsessive exercise habits, and fixation on food were not lost on him. Kids have an uncanny ability to detect when something is amiss, and my attempts to appear “fine” were transparent.
The road to recovery has been challenging for all of us, but ultimately, revealing my struggles has made me a more authentic parent. My boys have seen that life can throw unexpected challenges our way, and it’s okay to seek help when things get tough.
Today, I’m grateful to be on the road to recovery while navigating the ups and downs of raising two teenagers. Social media often creates a facade of perfection, showcasing glamorous lifestyles that can leave others feeling inadequate. By sharing my experiences, I’ve provided my children with a more realistic perspective and a safe space to express their own feelings.
Taking this risk allowed me to shed the belief that being a good parent means having all the answers. My hope is that my boys have learned that perfection is an illusion, and that’s completely acceptable.
If you’re interested in learning more about fertility journeys, check out this blog post. For more information on LGBTQ+ families, visit this site, which offers valuable insights. Additionally, this resource can provide further guidance on pregnancy and home insemination.
Summary:
Confessing my long-held secret of struggling with anorexia to my children was a daunting experience that ultimately led to a stronger bond and greater understanding within our family. By being open about my challenges, I’ve not only aided my recovery journey but also provided my sons with important life lessons about vulnerability and the necessity of seeking help.