The Sister of an Anorexic

It's common to see an anorexic's story on the web, internet, or YouTube. My sister has her own YouTube channel where she is able to document her recovery and help others along the way. I'm proud of her; I know she's getting better, but I also know relationships take a while to heal.

Let's start from the beginning. My sister is exactly two years and two weeks older than me. We were best buds, constantly ganging up against the other siblings. That all changed when she was around 12 or 13 and started to lose weight. Of course, as a ten-year-old, I didn't really know what was going on much less what anorexia was. I just saw my best friend slowly turn into a skeleton, become more and more angry, and start to lie to everyone. My sister's anorexia continued for a while; looking back it's hard to say how long. It was at least a year of constant fighting with my parents, pushing everyone away and developing compulsive behaviors. She would hide food, deceive everyone, shut the world out... this included me as well. I was confused and angry; why was she treating everyone this way? Why was she killing herself? Why was she choosing to miss out on all the fun things in life that the rest of us were doing? The one thing I remember is how angry I was at her. She was tearing our family apart. Everything was about her and her problem. I couldn't work out, run around, or go play soccer without "triggering" her. We couldn't talk about food or nutrition if she was in the room because it "triggered" her. We fought a lot; I don't remember being that angry at anyone else in my life. This all really started happening when I was around 12 and she was 14.

Finally, my parents sent her away to in-patient treatment because there was nothing else we could do. The doctors told us that if she didn't gain weight soon, her organs were going to start shutting down. She was scary to look at, scary to touch, with every bone in her body protruding out. I couldn't understand it; why wouldn't she eat? The doctors had just told her she was going to die if she didn't gain weight. Did she want to die?

I hated her; I loved her. I was so angry. The anger followed me around; every time I looked at her or she walked into the room, that seething anger for what she was choosing to do to herself, to me, to our family surfaced and hovered over me like a cloud. I just wanted my sister back, not this monster that had taken over her body.

The months she was gone brought peace back into our house. Our family of, at that point, seven could breathe. In the darkest part of my heart, I was glad she was gone. There was life in our family again, and I loved it. I was able to go with my parents to pick my sister up. We hadn't seen her in three months, and it wasn't until I saw her that I realized that I had in fact missed her.

The next few years were a blur. She continued to gain weight until she reached a healthy point. Things started to become normal again and there was a happiness about her that I loved. Our relationship didn't go back to rainbows and sunshine. I would smile around her and do my best, but my guard was constantly up.

To say the story ended there and that now, seven years later, everything is rainbows and sunshine would, unfortunately, be a lie. My sister relapsed around her junior year of college when she was 20 or 21. The sad thing is, it was so gradual I don't remember the point when I realized it. She was taking a lot of hours at college, working, working out a lot... and not eating enough. She started to look like a skeleton again. Her collarbones stuck out. She lost her period again after working years to get it back. She had ugly chicken arms that looked like you could snap them in half with minimal effort.

I remember crying. I remember the anger coming back; however, it was different this time. It was less of an aggressive feeling and more of a distanced, depressed sorrow. I was 19, working and going to college. I don't want to say I stopped caring, but I did. My actions took a "screw it" mentality. I was still living at home and decided this time I wasn't going to cater to her every need. If I wanted to work out, I wasn't going to wait till she was gone or try to hide it. If I wanted to cut back on my sweets because I could tell I was gaining some weight, I was going to do that. I hated eating around her; she would constantly compare what I was eating to her meals. I still don't know why... maybe to make herself feel better? To make sure she wasn't eating to much? Whatever the reason, I wouldn't give her that satisfaction and purposely wouldn't eat when she was in the kitchen or just simply get up and leave.

I hate to say one of the reasons I chose to transfer to Texas Tech University was to essentially run away from home, but it was. I needed to get out of that toxic environment. I needed the freedom to live life without my sister always watching me eat, trying to control everything, and dictating how I lived my life.

So that's what I did, I transferred to Tech and I'm not going to lie, it was amazing. Eating what I wanted whenever and wherever I wanted was amazing. I eat a balanced diet with lots of fruits and vegetables as well as living an active lifestyle with workouts several times a week.

As well as helping me, the move away also helped her. She had no one to compare to but herself. She could stop worrying about me and start focusing on her recovery. It was a win-win for both of us. Fast forward a year, I'm currently in Seville, Spain studying abroad for a semester. Having distance has definitely grown our relationship. I'll be honest though and say it's different. I don't often actively seek her to hang out with like I do with my other sisters. I give her space and she gives me space. We're friendly to each other, but our relationship is nothing like it was and far from what it could be.

I do love my sister, and I miss her as well. Because we're so close in age, we could be really good friends. However, she's still recovering and still has a good amount of weight to gain. I love her, but it's a different love from the rest of my family. I want so much more with her; I want to look at her and see more than just food. I want to be able to go to the gym with her and smash out an amazing workout. I want to travel with her without her obsessing over how she is going to eat and what she can take with us. I'm still holding out hope that one day we'll be super close again because the relationship between two sisters is one that can be full of joy, adventure, and memories.

So that's my experience in a tiny, little nutshell. I don't think people understand the extent an anorexic's actions have family, friends, etc. and this was something I wanted to draw attention to. Thanks for reading!