Following on from my previous post about honesty, the truth is that it is most definitely not peaches and roses living with an eating disorder sufferer; there were tantrums, floods of tears and moods levelling out at ‘a through the floor kind of down and out’. My partner didn’t always know the right things to say. Sometimes she didn’t even have to talk. We didn’t say anything. She would come up to me as I’m sat to the table sobbing my eyes out because “I just can’t” and just hold me before taking my hand, leading me to the other room and holding me some more.
At other times, in a rage of frustration at food, someone or myself she’d listen, let me vent then help comfort me. Hugs, watching TV, and going for a walk all helped to calm me down, sooth the situation and move on. It was an incident but it needn’t define the whole day. Sometimes, we wouldn’t even talk. I wouldn’t talk and she wouldn’t talk, but the acts of going for a walk in silence, the acts of wrapping her arms around me, and the acts of stroking my head whist I sobbed helped and became an invaluable support. Quite literally, she held my hand. She couldn’t recover for me, she couldn’t change anything for me, but she could be there, next to me, holding my hand – and that is exactly what she did.