Things, I thought, were better. I walked into the kitchen to make a coffee. She was sat at the kitchen table working on papers. I saw her hands dart beneath the table and the suspicion leapt within me. “Are you having trouble with your eating?”
She looked up and smiled “No. I’m Ok”.
“What do you have under the table?”
“Nothing” she said and lifted up her hands and waved them to prove that they were empty. I relaxed with a sigh, allowing myself to breathe again. I was thankful that she had reacted so well to my graceless suspicion.
I took a step forward and she adjusted her seating position and I realised immediately it was a lie. Perched on her knee was doorstep of bread smothered in butter and jam. She sat up and looked away from me.
“It’s difficult tonight. I’ll throw it away. I promise.”
I speak her name.
“Just stand over there” she implores. She doesn’t want me to be there when she brings the food out into the light. Somehow then there will have been no lie. Somehow it won’t be quite real. I stand still. What is better: to spare her the pain of embarrassment or to make her confront what she is doing to herself? She sits very still, eyes locked on a point on the kitchen wall.
“Please” she says. First silence and then I refuse. Slowly she pulls the bread from under the table.
“Please” I say in turn “it’s not the eating, it’s the lying”. But it sounds trite and it is trite. Things are more complex.
She thinks I will love her less if I know. But I do know. I find the crisp packets in the sock drawer. I know about the loaves of long life bread hidden behind the pots and pans. I notice the packet of biscuits that was bought yesterday has gone. I can’t avoid the scum on the water in the toilet. I don’t love her less. I couldn’t. Since we met my only option has been to love her completely.
It tortures me to think of the black subterranean river of unhappiness that runs through her. A Lethean tributary trickling without end. I am not hurt I am jealous. When she feels small and scared it is to this old friend of hers she turns for comfort and not to me. My love is impotent to help her.
It ends as it always does, with a long hug, tears and a promise she can’t keep.Â
It’s heartbreaking for both of you and so very complex.
Having lived with someone who suffered like this, I know how hard it is to see. But I also know how damaging any attempts to stop them doing this to themselves are too. I hope she works it out somehow. And you must love her very very much.
Thanx for the luck. I hope I wont need it but ta anyway.
Love ur writing by the way.
My best to both of you.
ugh…wow…that makes my heart hurt…stay strong my friend. keep steady. your love for her will be more help in the long run then you think.
How awful for you both.
Thinking of you both…and from what I have read…your love for her is so strong…and I hope that that will get her through.
Wow, Moobz – I didn’t know you were dealing with something like this at home. My thoughts are with you!
Sound like it was a bad day for all. May it be a blip amongst a lot of other good, great, fun, laughter filled love days.
*hugs* xx
Sending our love.
My thoughts are with you. It does sound complex, but it’s obvious you have a tremendous amount of love for her. That’s good.
Very difficult problem. I wish you both well.
Thank you for sharing yourself with those of us who care so much to know. Here’s hoping for brighter days ahead, dear one.
I just wanted to let you know how much I appreciate your good wishes. With your permission I will translate what you have had to say into a longer hug for P tonight.
I’m sure I speak for us all when I say ‘Permission granted’.
She is lucky to have your support and love. I wish you two well, as I am sure this is tough for both of you.
Your take on it was beautifully written.
I struggled with the same illness for ten years. There is hope for P, she has to want to get better though, and be prepared to get help. Your love will be a vital part of this process. You are welcome to send me an e-mail, if you feel I can offer support in any way. Good luck to you both.
Stephanie and Harmony, thanks for your thoughts. Harmony, thanks especially for your offer of help.
P has had this problem now for 22 years. There are, as I’m sure you found, good times and bad times. I think she had always thought she would stop when we had kids but since that has proven very difficult the moment to really tackle the illness has never quite arrived for her.
You use the past tense so I assume that you have managed to beat it . In that case I am happy for you and admire you in equal measure. You should be proud.
Moobs,
Wishing you patience, courage, and strength to continue supporting and loving your friend.
My friend offers me action, comfort and control. It is enlightening to see what it looks like from the other side. Good luck to you both xxx
Thanks, Moobs. I have sent you an e-mail through 20six.