11:00 a.m. - 03/12/02
thank you for everything you gave without knowing...
This is a letter I'm considering sending to an adminstrator at my old middle school...
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Dear [asst principal of old ms],
How are you? Please excuse me for tracking down your e-mail and writing this. (You probably thought you were finished with [my siblings and me], eh?) I know I've moved on from the middle school, and actually, I've moved from [the town I used to live in] as well (I'm living in [a new state] now, a little under two hours away from your neck of the woods), but I still feel a connection to everyone who helped me when I was in seventh and eighth grade, and I still feel gratitude that you are all in that community, doing the work you are- because it has a lot to do with my being here to do my work.
Let me explain a little. I know you're aware that I struggled quite a bit throughout middle school (and continued to struggle in high school), though the details were a bit blurred. A year ago, I finally received the help I'd needed for so long. I was diagnosed with a depressive anxiety disorder (which explained the hopelessness and the overwhelming terror, panic attacks, etc) as well as a combined eating disorder (bulimarexia) which I suppose was my attempt to calm those depressions and fears. By second semester of last year (my sophomore year) I was really lost in my eating disorder, and that's when I ended up getting help. I left school, started homebound, and tried to regain hold of my life. But I was too far gone. In August I was admitted to a residential treatment facility (what an awful term) in Wisconsin, and it was there that I really managed to find myself again. Or maybe for the first time.
I was discharged from the hospital in November, and since then I've maintained my health and my life on the "outside." My doctors are pleased, my parents are pleased, the staff from Wis call me their "success story" - everyone is relieved. I'll admit I am, too; the battle I went through was harrowing and often overwhelming. I honestly wasn't convinced I would make it through, and I have a dear friend (my roommate from the hospital) who didn't.
I guess what lingers for me is that there's a reason I went through all of this, not simply to discover my own life, which I feel it has helped me to do, but also to help others with my story. I still use my writing- in December, I went to NY as a national contest winner to see a play I'd written (about parts of my experience) staged. It's a brilliant feeling, knowing that my voice is helping other people understand better. One of the hardest parts of having an eating disorder is the level of stereotypes, misconceptions, and stigma surrounding the illness. In many instances, I went from being a girl no one knew to be superficial to being pegged as just another adolescent obsessed with dieting, overnight. Often, as soon as people discovered my diagnosis, their perception of me flipped 180 degrees. It made an already difficult struggle more difficult, and I am genuinely grateful to know that my speaking up helps those who are suffering speak up, and those who aren't to better understand.
Which I guess leads me to where I'm going with all of this. I was hoping I could talk with your students about my experience. I know how powerful personal stories can be- I think of what hearing Laura [] speak did for me that first year. Eating disorders are taught in health class as terms with definitions to be memorized; the real experience- the experience that threatens a large part of your student body is one most of them haven't heard, and I think I can give them an accurate glimpse into it. I remember what I went through, what I continue to go through, and I have enough distance now not to romanticize or exaggerate the pain. I want to give an honest glimpse to all those kids who could be where I was, on the verge between hanging on and losing themselves completely. It would mean a lot to me to do this in the place where I first began my journey, among the people who tried so hard to help me when I was apparently beyond help.
A few months ago an article was published without my permission in the [town newspaper]. It talked about what I'd gone through without any of my input. It was painful for me because it was as much my story as a rumor would be, but it was accepted as if it were my experience. It would mean a lot to me to be able to tell my story as *I* know it, to "leave" [the town I grew up in], as much as one can ever leave the community that raised them, with the knowledge that I took my own strength back and gave my story in the forum I wanted to. That my last endeavor there was one of dignity.
I understand that this is a large request, but I think the benefit for all involved would more than pay the cost. It's a responsibility I would take with great seriousness, and I want you to know that whatever decision is made in the end, you and everyone else who has supported me all these years, will still have my immense gratitude.
Thanks.
Mary
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So go ahead. Answer the poll. Make my decisions, please!!!
codependent chord
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