Meeting the counselor

Today I had the in-take session with the counselor Dr. G wants M to see. "In-take" is her nomenclature, not mine. I think it's a horrible expression. Makes me feel like we're admitting him to an institution rather than having a parent-therapist consultation. So I had my reservations, but Dr. G pulled strings because she's not accepting new patients and I figured if he went to bat for us then we should give her a try.

The session was pretty much what I expected. Getting background on his current state as well as our family life story. In an hour. Of course we talked about M a lot, but what surprised me was how much time we devoted to talking about M's dad and B. If that ain't proof this is a family thing than I don't what is.

This would be the logical time to talk about the back story on M's dad, but I can't. He's too complicated. His relationship with the boys and me is too complicated. The impact he has on our lives is too complicated. Suffice to say It's Complicated.

The short story is that he moved to Colorado last Spring, which probably isn't a big deal since he hasn't been an active participant in my kids' lives. More so with M, who he used to have dinner with once a week or so when his schedule permitted. His relationship with B is seriously damaged. That's whole another story, too. Breaks my heart that B has been screwed over when it comes to getting his fare share of his father's love and attention.

I told M's dad about his condition this weekend. I'd dreaded it because he can be a loose cannon. He doesn't really buy into counseling and sure as hell doesn't support having his children take an anti-depressant no matter how short the time period may be. And I'm going to unapologetically stereotype here: He's Irish and he lives in the land of denial. On the other hand, he also loves to swoop in and save the day in a crisis. I had no idea which way the wind would blow. He was thoughtful in his questions. (Mind you, I'd called him weeks ago when I had concerns and was making M's first doctor's appointment; and then he saw M two weeks during a business trip back East. M weighed 108 pounds and his dad didn't notice anything amiss. In other words, this shouldn't have been a shock to him if he were paying attention.)

His dad called back the next day after he'd spoken with Dr. G. He decided he needed to move back to New York until M is back on his feet (which research tells me is 6 months at the very earliest). We had a terrific conversation it looks like he's going to swoop. He plans to leave tomorrow or Thu and be here in a few days.

I know. I started out talking about the counselor and I totally sidetracked. It all ties together. When I told the counselor what his plans were, she was concerned. Of course the logical action for a child in crisis would be to have his parents by his side. But we're talking about one seriously anxiety-ridden kid who's feeling responsibility for just about everything. (Well, not the economy, but he does have strong opinions on that one.) The counselor is concerned of the stress it'll cause for M knowing his father uprooted his life for him.

This was a perspective I hadn't entertained. She requested that we hold off making any decisions until she's had a chance to meet M.

This did NOT go over well with M's dad. I can understand the desire to be with your child when he's in crisis. Of course. But this isn't about what we want. It's about what's best for the child. He ain't buying it. He's pissed at me even though I'm only the bearer of the request. I suspect his dislike of counselors is only deepening. He's of the mind to screw with the counselor thinks.

I suggested he speak with her directly. Can't wait to see how this saga continues...

Son #1

I'm feeling the need to write a series of vignettes today while watching football to give some background so there's some context for anything I write in the future. And now I feel the need to talk about my oldest son, B. God I love him. Everyone does. He's one of those spirits that are so incredibly special. Everyone feels it, yet you can't put a name to it or describe it. He has an aura that oozes kindness and an understanding of life that's far beyond his 20 chronological years.

B is in his junior year of college in CT, about 90 min away from home. He's an art major (I know I know, highly employable, right?) and is living off-campus this year with 2 boys (um, men? seriously. I guess they're men even if they're the same age as my son). He's had the same girlfriend for about 18 months now. She's part of the family. That's just how we roll.

God I love him. I can't say that enough. I miss him terribly. We talk during the week and make it a point to go no longer than 2 weeks between seeing each other.

This is probably an awful thing to admit, but I lean on him. A lot. I probably share more of my worries with him than I should. I think I got into that habit when I realized he sees everything and gets it anyways. He knows all about M's struggles. He's planning a weekend when M and M's friends will go spend a couple of days with him in his apartment. Hopefully early November.

And because I'm a mom and worrying is what we do, I worry that he'll miss out on his share of love and attention while we all work on kicking M's anorexia in the ass. I cannot and will not lose sight of B's needs. I just hope he knows that. I think he does. I'll send him a text in a sec letting him know I'm thinking of him.

Still talking

Every Sunday afternoon during football season, you know where to find me. At home, watching the games and doing chores. I love my Sundays. Especially if the Jets win. But today they're not playing, so I'm settling for Giants and Bills. I'm very productive on football afternoons. I cook, clean, do laundry and generally get organized for the week ahead. And now it seems that I'm adding blogging to my Sunday lineup. In all honesty I don't feel like doing much else because this whole ED thing is our obsession right now.

M slept late today, which is a good thing since sleep has been a challenge. The downside is that we missed a meal (breakfast) and a snack. We made a nice breakfast-for-lunch meal however. Hashbrowns and English muffin with pumpkin butter for him. Hashbrowns and scrambled eggs for me. When we're both home, we always make meals together. He seems to really enjoy it and he eats well during those meals. Today he was joking and ate well. It felt good to feel so normal. Then I look at the circles under his eyes and sunken cheeks and remember that we're not normal. Yet. (If there ever is such a thing as normal, but I think you get what I mean.)

I'm psycho. Doing everything I can to keep the positive energy going with jokes, jovial laughs and upbeat stories. And then I cry, quickly wiping away the tears if I hear him coming.

But he ate well. I'm holding onto that. He just grabbed an apple to eat, which has always been his fav snack. These days I ask him to add some peanut butter with the apple. He wants to go to Willie's for dinner tonight to check out their portabello burger, so he'll eat well then. I'm hopeful that it's a good food day. Those sunken cheeks haunt me.

Hello

I imagine that, like most bloggers, I'll begin this will all good intentions to maintain my blog on a regular basis in perpetuity. Don't we all start things when we're most passionate about them? Well I ain't making any promises. All I know is that today I feel like starting a blog and talking about something, so I am. Who knows about tomorrow or the day after that.

And I seriously doubt that anyone will ever read this but me, so really it's just an online journal. But I have a background in social media so this is where I gravitate to rather than the online journaling sites.

What I want to talk about today is that my youngest son, M, has been diagnosed with anorexia. It was declared official a few days ago. I've cried a lot. He's done some of that, too. Thank God our pediatrician, Dr. G, is fantastic and M has a great relationship with him. Well, maybe not so much today since Dr. G is telling M some things he doesn't like hearing.

And in between crying, I've been doing research about eating disorders. Like any disease there's a whole language and set of abbreviations that come with it. I've found a nutritionist experienced in these things. We meet with her tomorrow. M is looking forward to it. I'm having a parent meeting with a counselor on Monday, too. M is not happy about seeing a counselor. He becomes emotional when the topic comes up. And of course, it feels like our lives now circle around the topic of food. Did you eat? What did you eat? Let's plan what we'll eat? Are these high impact foods? Blah blah blah.

Here I thought, now that M is 17, I'd have time this year to start thinking about making a transition to an empty nest. Quite the opposite now. I'm home more than ever and quite frankly afraid to be anywhere but here when M is here so I can ensure he's eating well and eating often.

I've also joined the folks over at FEAST. I left an I'm New Here post on their forum and the outpouring of love and support was overwhelming. They told which books and movies are the "musts" to save me wasting time with the lesser resources. The list overwhelmed me even more. I cried some more. I received an email from a wonderful woman, L, who has been through this with her daughter and they've made it to the other side. She gave me her phone number and said to call any time. So why am I afraid to pick up the phone? I've gone back to FEAST and started to write a few posts, but delete them each time.

I feel incredibly alone and isolated - and I'm holding at arm's length the people who are trying so hard to make me feel welcome.

I think that M is not the only one who's in denial to a certain extent. I'm afraid to know too much, I think. I wrote in my intro post on FEAST that we didn't fit the classic mold for ED. And the community told me otherwise. Under no uncertain terms. Maybe, on some level, if I see us as "different" than we're not one of them. Because nobody wants to be them.