In this podcast, Tabitha Farrar talks about how eating disorder change our beliefs and values, and how recovery also changes these aspects.
Podcast dedicated to “Mary.” I miss you.
In this podcast, Tabitha Farrar talks about how eating disorder change our beliefs and values, and how recovery also changes these aspects.
Podcast dedicated to “Mary.” I miss you.
Your pod cast was VERY helpful. Don’t ever doubt the insights you share aren’t valuable. My adult daughter has been ill for many years and out of utter helplessness and frustration, I’ve given the reigns of her recovery over to her. You validated it so clearly – as an adult suffering from anorexia it is their responsibility to choose recovery behaviors. It’s agony to watch but I now believe it’s the only way. She has completed her teaching degree and is living and working independently in a different city. So far so good. The insights you share reflect what I have seen in her own journey and help explain the inexplicable. Thank you so much for your breathtaking honestly. Much love.
Tabitha- I truly feel your pain. I am so sorry that you carry regret. You have done so much for so many, I just want you to know that unfortunately you’re not alone with these feelings. I really think that your friend, Mary, would be very proud and understanding of the person that you are today. I know that you are an atheist, but I believe that she knows how you are feeling and she would want you to let go of it. I hope that these words somehow help. I have suffered great losses during my plight with anorexia. Everyday I think of those that aren’t here anymore. I just hold on to the knowledge that they understand and forgive me. They loved (love) me as I loved (love) them. They wouldn’t want me to waste another minute living in torment. As I’m sure your dear friend wouldn’t want that for you. Sending hugs and support
Amy L.
(I am not a native speaker so there can be grammar and writing faults in there ;))
Hello Tabathia,
I can absolutely relay to your feelings about your decision to go to the gym instead of attempting to the party. I am in a similarly situation right now. My grandmother died only a short time ago at a young age and I feel very guilty for not being around her in the last month.
She would than and now suggest that we could go for a walk as we did when I was a child. Sure I went for a walk every day but at that time it seemed impossible for me to go with my granny who would (of course) not want to go as fast a possible but enjoy nature instead. Enjoy spending time with her granddaughter who has been to busy in the last years because of her anorexia and school and work to visit her. But it didn’t feel like a decision I could make.
Additional to that I could not be nice to her. When I would come to visit her with my family I would sit there, quiet and a little bit nerved because old people always talk about so (to me at that time) irrelevant things. When she than asked me to speak I would give short answers that showed how nerved I was; me not able to understand that older people simply do not KNOW about modern things like computers, etc. and that she did not ask me about all that “easy” and “unimportant” things because she wanted to annoy me. She also didn’t ask me about how my time at school was because she wanted “take control” over or judge my live but because she was simply interested in how my time at school was. I just couldn’t see that and felt attacked.
By now, only a few month or even only weeks later in recovery, I can see that the first thing was compulsive movement and the second thing my starving brain. When compulsive movement got better, so that I didn’t have to go on my own anymore, I actually thought about asking my grandmother to go for a walk, but because I couldn’t imagine being out with her for a longer time without being rude I never asked her.
I always loved (love) my grandmother but when she was around I simply was not able to show this to her and I am very sad and sorry about this. Now I will never ever get the chance to do so. I just have to believe she knew.