The reality of mental illness

This morning, I came upon a comment in a community of ARFID sufferers and carers that got me thinking.

The poster was frustrated with his/her parents inability to just "accept" and "live with" their level of pickiness and indicated the relationship made them even more unwilling and unable to eat.

I know this individual looked at this as a parent unable to accept them for who they were or how they were, but the only thing I could think was - isn't it the parents job to help their child overcome their challenges?  The way the commenter presented the issue was he/she was unwilling to change.  They liked who they were.  They had no desire to change how they were.  They didn't see a problem with who they were.

I get that.  I 100% get that and as a parent I do accept that my child sees food and the world differently.  But I also see how the way she views food will present her with difficulties when she enters the adult world, if she would even make it there if I enabled her to continue in her disordered way of thinking.

Here's the thing.  ARFID is an eating disorder that is a part of a bigger mental health issue.

I strongly feel that if I were to enable her to continue her eating patterns, it would be doing her a disservice.  I would be failing her if I enabled and encouraged her to eat how she wants.  One example that came to mind was that of depression.

I can speak to depression and anxiety from a very authentic place.  I have struggled since a teen with depression and since prematurity entered in, I have added post-traumatic stress disorder and further anxiety and depression.  My post partum depression never left.  Add to that the ARFID diagnosis and trying to care for a child who has absolutely NO DESIRE to eat and will put up any wall she can to avoid the simple act of bringing a fork from her plate to her mouth and I was up the creek without a paddle.

Every morning that alarm would go off and I wanted to cry.  Because now I had to get out of bed.  But I didn't want to get out of bed.  I wanted to stay right where I was, enveloped in the comforting warmth of the disillusion that I could just stay asleep and not have to deal with my day.

Every day, my biggest accomplishment and challenge was simply getting out of bed.

What if I didn't?  What if I chose to stay in bed?  What would happen?  Children would not get fed, I would not get fed.  Bills would not get paid.  Life would simply stop in a very real and eternal way.  But I would be happy and content wasting away in my bubble of unawareness.

Is that any way to live?

No.

The very reality that life would cease to exist if I just "accepted" my mental illness as a part of me and gave into it should be answer enough.

Neither am I saying that I (or she, or this poster) is "less than" for struggling with mental illness.  No, the very opposite.  They should be loved, and encouraged, and guided to find the tools to overcome these challenges.  By pushing one to not accept their status quo, the hand that they've been given, aren't you actually giving them a chance to overcome?

So, yes, I push her.  I push her beyond her boundaries.  I fight her day in and day out.  I am working to give her the tools she needs to eat even when she doesn't feel like it.  Or want to.  Or in an uncomfortable situation.  In the same way that I can't allow myself to stay in my bed, she can't allow herself to say I don't want to eat today.

Staying in bed is not an option.  Not eating is not an option.

The reality is that mental illness is hard.  It's debilitating.  It's confusing.  It's not a straight line from a to z.  It's painful.

But recovery is possible.  A full life without the restriction of our mental illness is possible.

If you can just fight for it.