I was on campus. This shouldn’t be happening, but it is. Today, I saw three people with anorexia.
I stood there. It was raining, and I watched that shadow walk by me, in front of me. I stood there for a long time, trying to recollect myself. I was on campus. This shouldn’t be happening, but it is.
I didn’t go up to her, only because I remember someone had told me she had been confronted before, and her reaction had been very, very hostile. So I stood there, trying to recollect myself. It was a rainy morning.
In the past few months, I have had a number of Encounters with people suffering from this illness, in my child-like attempts to reach out to them, on the basis that I understand. Some of you, after finding out, have asked me how to help someone you knew who was suffering from this. Some of you had siblings, close friends, schoolchildren you were tutoring who were suffering from this… this shouldn’t be happening. One of you sought me out in desperation, telling me you were at a loss, that the person you knew was wasting away, and had been suffering so badly that even the kidneys had stopped functioning. Young child having kidneys losing their function. Losing periods for more than a year. Having knees which have lost their ability to walk down steps because of the bone density and cartilage lost. Losing fat from your boobs, and your feminity.
There is so much loss. So much lost.
People losing themselves, falling down, wasting away. You don’t have to travel far to exercise compassion. It’s funny how Kitesong raised awareness for children in a developing country, while A Taste of Rainbow aims to raise awareness for a problem usually associated with developed nations only. The taste of sadness is the same everywhere, developed country of not. Neither cause is needier, more pressing. Each has their own brand of hunger.
Most people ask me how to help, because no one seems to know. Most people, out of concern, urge them to eat. “Have more food, I’m worried about you.” But this soon escalates into frustration, judgement and comments of condemnation which do nothing but aggravate the problem, isolate the person.
“Eat more, will you? You’re too thin.”
“Why are you doing this to yourself?”
“Will you just eat more, what is wrong with you? You look horrible.”
These don't help.
Nobody wins. In anorexia, nobody wins. The Concerned one sees a slippery loss of weight, the one Suffering only sees a distorted body image, more fat to lose on an already skeletal frame. The Concerned one doesn’t understand and passes hurtful comments, the one Suffering gets hurt inside, clams up. It no longer becomes a discussion, but a power struggle.
Many people suffering from anorexia feel they have lost control over many things in their lives, amidst family problems, work stress, traumatic incidents, childhood issues, such that the only source of control they feel they can hold on to is food. It is only a tool. So the fight breaks out. No one can make me eat. Things worsen. Conversations become competitions of control, meal-times become battlegrounds. Relationships fragment. People lose hope.
I remember how you tried to hold me down that day. “Stop running away,” you said, and you literally had to come get me because I was so mad I walked off in disbelief. We have been through so much in our friendship because of this. We have argued, fought, quarreled, only to find ourselves back to square one, where our friendship started because still, our friendship is strong enough. Still.
I took an atypical route of recovery because I took the initiative and asked for it, sought it out- not because I was innately more sensible or wiser. I did it because of something deeper calling from inside. Something which changed my life and which makes me say till today that God and church saved my life, many times. And when I did, I read about it, did research, met the right people who had the experience to help me. I was very fortunate.
People suffering from this illness will never believe you when you say they are too thin, that they need to eat more. I didn’t. My closest friends tried to make me talk. You tried so many times to make me talk, make me eat, and I never did. I denied it, not because I wanted to, but because I genuinely didn’t believe what they were telling me. Every day it hurt. Every day, no one understood. I didn’t either.
So how do you help, you ask.
Be there, that is all. Be there, tell them you are there for them, and stop judging, stop forcing them to eat, stop the condemning, guilt-inducing and threatening. This is not an easy illness. It comes and it goes, and then it moves in, camps there, and builds an army, a fortress that isolates them from the world. And if you really love them and care for them, be it someone slipping into it, suffering, still recovering or recovered, even, then read about it. Find out. Try, just try to understand and don’t pretend to. It is a complex illness which tests your genuinity. If you really do care, really want to help, pick a book up from Borders, google eating disorder websites. Our natural reactions of concern will backfire on this one, simply because it is too complex, runs too deeply.
If you want to help, truly, find out. Read. It’s all there on a huge shelf at Borders.
During recovery, I met a marathon-runner who had suffered severely from anorexia before, and had recommended me a book to read. It is excellent for both sufferers and people who wish to help or understand more about the illness- Anorexia Nervosa, A Guide to Recovery by Lindsey Hall and Monika Ostroff. I placed an order for it at Borders, brought it to Nepal to read when I was trying to recover.
It really isn’t that hard to be there for someone, but if you want to save their lives, and see a glimpse of their world, then read. Be there for them, show your support, and go with them to a counselor when their hearts open up to you. More and more people are suffering from this, and it's only a matter of time when you'll find yourself knowing someone who is Suffering. There is no harm reading. I can’t begin to tell you how difficult it is for them to talk about it, so don’t push them. Just read, find out on your own. I couldn’t put it into words myself at that time. Even now, I find it difficult to talk about its intricate details. It runs too deep, in the colour of Black.
For those of you suffering, I want to tell you there is nothing shameful about getting help professionally. It was one of the best things that I did. In fact, it’s one of the bravest, most responsible things you’ll ever find yourself doing in your life. There are books, there are people to help you, and there is the support group to attend at Singapore General Hospital Life Centre at 7pm, on the first Thursday of every month. Family of those suffering can also find support and learn how to help their loved ones from the support group.
Every one needs a turning point. I was very blessed that mine came from inside, upstairs, because I couldn’t see myself being an anorexic missionary doctor, couldn’t have people telling me how bad I looked while I was fundraising for Kitesong. I had friends who prayed for me, people placed in my way who helped because they wanted to understand. Most of all, I had God. This is the kind of illness that people suffer from not for years, but for decades. I went in and came out fast only because of the grace of God, I should think.
I remember that day when I was at the support group and someone Suffering looked at me in the eye, told me, “You look so… so good. Is it really possible to recover and be of a normal weight?” My tears built up behind my eyes because I saw that longing in you, that bewilderment, that inner struggle to understand how recovery was possible, how eating normally can actually be possible, beautiful even. Tears, also because I saw your genuinity, and I had not looked at myself like that for a long, long time.
So if you know someone suffering and want to help, please do. Now you know how. And if you are the one Suffering, know that recovery is entirely possible. It is challenging, very, I know, and it may seem far away, almost not worth the try. But it is. I’m here, so please, do try. Get help.
No one told me how. I was very, very blessed. But now you do. Now you do.
I attend the support group at the Life Centre every month because this is still a journey for me. There are new things to learn all the time. And if you do come, come say hi to me. Come see for yourself that it is possible. I want to give you a hug and tell you how brave you are, that’s all.
"With man this is impossible, but with God all things are possible."
-Matthew 19:26
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