It’s parents’ weekend and we take Lauren to a nearby city for a night. I am filled with gratitude when I think back to a year ago when the brutal illness was just taking hold. How blissfully unaware I was of the true nature of this beast. How I hoped and convinced myself it was just a phase that would quickly pass. Last week, I acknowledged how far she has come. If she just keeps going, this will soon be something of the past. We laugh, sleep in late, and eat pancakes for breakfast.
Why, then, do I feel so unsettled? I lie awake at night haunted by stories of 50-year olds who continue to struggle after 35 years, begging for an end to their suffering; and of children who fear their mother will be hospitalized and may not return. I see in Lauren evidence of the inverse relationship between weight and eating disordered thoughts. I remember that most people do recover from this frightening illness and go on to lead fulfilling lives. I try to stay positive but until I can put this in the past once and for all, it remains ever present. I recognize the need for helicopter parenting and make no excuse for it. This illness has hijacked my precious daughter and if I don’t fight with her, it has the power to take her forever. She can overcome it, and I still believe she will. Until then, I need to find the patience to sustain me along this arduous journey, knowing that time is itself a powerful healer.
“The two most powerful warriors are patience and time.”
~Leo Nikolaevich Tolstoy~
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