Written by C.G. from Ra'anana, Israel.
T is our youngest and only daughter. After three boisterous boys, she was a welcome change. Sweet, kind and thoughtful, she was simply a delight. She was hardworking and very conscientious. She would often struggle in social situations mainly due to her hypersensitive nature. She was generous and loving and rarely caused us a moment of worry or concern. She was a high achiever in school and although it didn’t always come easy to her, she persevered and we admired this. She was always tactile – hugging us each and every night before she went to sleep, and even though we would be waiting for the teenage years to strike, they never seemed to come. As she completed her final year of high school, we saw her finally feeling comfortable in her social environment and she appeared to blossom. She still struggled with her emotions but was always open and shared with me, to the point where I was both grateful for our closeness but also questioning why she didn’t prefer to share with her friends the way I did at her age. My relationship with my mother was (and is still) not easy and I was determined that my relationship with my daughter would be different. I worked really hard at being emotionally available and making sure she knew how much she was loved. She was told – often – how amazing she was. We tried not to focus on only external attributes but to instill in her a sense of self-worth and security.
How then, did I not notice a change in her?
How did I miss the signs of her ED?
These are questions I still struggle with, even today.
At the end of 12th grade, she became moody, angry, and very particular about her environment. I put it down to anxiety caused by leaving home, starting Mechina and eventually the army. It just made sense to me that it would be a difficult transition and I didn’t think about any other source. She would stay up all night and sleep during the day – but so did my boys at that age, so I never thought anything of it. We would wake up in the morning to trays of cookies that she had made us, each with personalized notes, and I would just think she was being the same thoughtful person she had always been. For years, family dinners during the week just never happened as the different schedules and food choices of each child made it impossible, but we always ate together on Shabbat and Friday night would be her favorite meal. All of a sudden, she would be difficult on Friday nights at dinner. She would be moody and unpleasant until the middle of dinner and I would put it down to her sleep pattern and tiredness. On family vacation she struggled with physical activities and would be exceptionally difficult at mealtimes, but again, I put it down to how particular she had always been to eat healthy foods and not because she was, as I now know, limiting her calorie intake.
I didn’t see a drastic change in her physical appearance – she seemed so happy in her clothes that I was happy for her.
I didn’t see her dancing as something dangerous and obsessive, but as something that she loved to do and that made her happy.
I didn’t see.
How did I find out? Thankfully, she told me herself, tearfully. She told me her periods had stopped for three months. She was afraid I would be angry. She explained what she’d been
doing. How she had been measuring everything in every meal she ate. How she never touched the cookies she made us at night but enjoyed the smell. How she’d been running on the treadmill at night, after we had gone to sleep. How happy she was when her stomach was flatter and she could wear smaller clothes. How she keeps falling asleep all the time. How miserable and sad and alone she felt.
How didn’t I see all this? I thought we had such a good relationship. I made an effort to “see” my child every single day, and yet I missed this – the most important thing.
Whilst she wanted me to call it what it was – an eating disorder – I was hesitant. I didn’t want it to mess up her army career. I didn’t want it to define her in her new social environment. The more I described it as an “episode” the more she pushed back and got angry that I couldn’t see it for what it was.
I immediately looked for help – someone who could support her and us through this period.
I felt that she needed both a dietician and a psychologist. Thankfully, we found Nava who managed to provide her with both phycological and dietary support. My daughter liked her immediately. She spoke to her by phone initially and called me immediately afterwards. It was the first time I heard relief in her voice. She said that in a simple phone call, Nava managed to calm her, make her feel understood, validate her and make her feel hopeful she won’t always feel as desperate as she felt at that moment.
Nava’s ability to guide both my daughter and us, her parents, is truly exceptional.
Nava’s approach was logical, empathetic and practical. She explained how this kind of thing can happen in a way that made sense to our daughter and that wasn’t accusatory – she didn’t ever make us feel that we were fundamentally to blame. Throughout the process, when things felt difficult in a relationship that had always been so easy with my daughter, she gave me her time and listened without judgement, helping me navigate the difficult path towards a new understanding.
When I felt angry that my daughter had “done this to herself”, she gave me a place to voice this feeling without shame and encouraged a new way of communication to enable me to see things in a different way and let go of that anger, enabling me to feel close to my daughter again. Whilst always encouraging a healthy lifestyle, learned from Nava to change, not my thought process but how I communicated that to my daughter. What words I use that can trigger her to feel things which weren’t my intention. To understand that it’s not always what I say, but that my child is intuitive and feels an expectation from me. To verbalize that it’s ok if we disagree. To show her that it’s ok if something isn’t perfect. To share parts of me that feel vulnerable and weak so that she doesn’t feel that she is failing, but that she is human, as we all are.
She gave practical advice explaining at each stage of the process, what my daughter needed from me and at the same time, gave me a place to voice what I wasn’t capable or able to do. This flexibility and understanding of different personalities involved, is what makes Nava’s approach so special. She understands that there isn’t a “fit-all” approach to navigating an ED and that in order for progress to be made, each person within the dynamic has to feel comfortable with what is expected of them – both the parents and the teenager need to feel that change is possible and that they have the ability to make those small practical steps towards healing. Her menus were always adaptable and whilst at different stages of the process, certain parts of her menus were more rigid, there was always place for adjustment, making both parent and child feel that keeping to the menu was achievable.
Today my daughter still meets with Nava every so often and I encourage it.
She has found an ally in the complex world of teenage life today and I feel grateful that she has someone to share her concerns and worries with that I trust implicitly, to guide her and to give her a safe space to share parts of herself that she struggles with. Nava’s calm approach makes my daughter feel calmer within the often fast paced, crazy world around her.
There are two things I would share with other parents who are at the start of this process. First, try to see the world as they see it (despite what you know to be misconception and lack of maturity), let them feel that they are seen and understood. Second, let your vulnerability show – show them how hard struggle to see the child that you adore, suffer or feel unworthy; not by anger, but by honesty, openness, kindness and communication.
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