A Second Chance at One Last Conversation
Over 400 channels and nothing to watch plagues many evenings
the same way I have a jammed pack closet full of clothes and absolutely nothing
to wear! Recently, on a quest to find
something entertaining on a regular weekday evening, I joined Dan in watching a
documentary called, “André the Giant.”
It’s based on the life of a French professional wrestler and actor, André
René Roussimoff. It was quite
interesting, discussing his life with the disease gigantism, caused by an
excess growth hormone. His body never
stopped growing and he endured great pain.
In 1993 he died in his sleep of congestive heart failure at the age of
46. He was all alone in a Paris hotel room. The movie was touching and heart
breaking. He truly was a gentle
giant.
When the same lack of entertainment dilemma returned the following
evening, I opted to explore additional documentaries, for I enjoyed the André story
so much. I spotted a movie icon,
appearing right next to André the Giant’s, called “Thin.” It’s a 2006 documentary following a group of
young women, inside of an in-patient treatment facility in Florida. They all are suffering from severe life
threatening eating disorders. The
juxtaposition of these two opposite movies, appearing side by side, was not
lost on me. I had to watch. Sadly, it was the most disturbing movie I’ve
ever seen for so many reasons. I hated
it. It made me sad. It was depressing. It bothered me so much, but I kept watching, waiting
for the happy ending that never happened.
Eating disorders is a topic I intentionally avoid writing about, but I
knew the entire time watching this movie, that I have to. Why? The
answer is Elizabeth Ann Englehardt.
We knew her as Beth, a childhood friend. She was one year older than me and our
parents were also really good friends.
Our families spent a lot of time together while we were growing up. Beth was never really fat but always
complained about her round face. Beth
had dark brown eyes and chestnut brown hair.
One day she overheard some boy, in the high school hallway, make a
comment about her weight. This drove her
to go on a simple diet that somehow led her on a journey, spiraling into the deep
dark depths of pure hell. The pain and
suffering from her experience is something I can’t even imagine. Beth developed a serious eating disorder that
landed her in countless hospitals and treatment centers, unsuccessfully trying
to treat her illness.
She eventually started college in Dayton where I ventured for
a visit one weekend. She had started to
drop weight again and I could tell was swirling into another downward spiral. I couldn’t understand why she was doing this
to herself and tried to talk to her about it.
She said she just couldn’t help it.
She said that somewhere along the way something changed, and even though
she saw the number on the scale go down, she still saw a fat girl in the
mirror. There was nothing I could do or
say to help her, but I tried. I just didn’t
understand it myself. That was the last
time I saw Beth. The next time I would
see her she was in a casket.
Over 30 million people, of all ages and genders, suffer from
an eating disorder in this country.
Every 62 minutes at least one person dies as a direct result from an
eating disorder. Eating disorders have
the highest mortality rate of any mental illness. Recent statistics also show that 13% of women
over 50 engage in eating disorder behaviors.
Watching the “Thin” movie showed me that treatment of this disorder
hasn’t evolved or changed since Beth went through this over 30 years ago. Not one girl from that movie sustained
recovery. Sadly, one girl died by the
time the movie was released. I was too
afraid to research how many more since that time.
I loved the Carpenters, the brother sister singing duo of
the 70’s, and was heartbroken when Karen died in 1983. She died of cardiac arrest due to anorexia. Christy Henrich, a US Olympic gymnast, died
in 1988 from multiple organ failure.
Heidi Guenther, a prima ballerina, died at 22. Many other famous celebrities have spoken out
about their struggles. That list keeps
growing, but includes Paula Abdul, Christine Alt, Fiona Apple, Justine Bateman,
Victoria Beckham, Kate Bekinsale, Candace Cameron Bure, Amanda Bynes, Melanie
Chisholm (Sporty Spice), Katie Couric, Diana Princess of Wales, Susan Dey,
Sally Field, Tracy Gold, Audrey Hepburn, Mariel Hemingway, Felicity Huffman,
Janet Jackson, Wynonna Judd, Demi Lovato, Maureen McCormick, Katherine McPhee, Calista
Flockhart, Stacy London, Diane Keaton, Alanis Morissette, Mary-Kate Olsen,
Jaime Pressley, Tara Reid, Christina Ricci, Ronda Rousey, Sharon Osbourne, Lady
Gaga, Kate Winslet, and Kelly Clarkson.
This list goes on and on. I just
listed a few. There are many more stars,
athletes and models on this list. It’s
astonishing but shows that no one is immune.
When I was in my early 20’s I tried to make myself throw up
once. I also tried using laxatives to
lose weight. I know I was dangerously
close to stepping over the line, of developing a full blown eating disorder,
even though I had a front row seat to what happened to Beth. But at the time I felt
my life was out of control, I felt fat, and I was in a bad place. Thank God it didn’t work for me. I couldn’t do it. I knew the whole time it was stupid, but for
some reason it seemed like the answer to my quest for “perfection.” Why am I writing about this now? Because given the statistics, the odds are
extremely high that someone reading these very words right now is
suffering. Odds are even greater that
someone reading this right now knows someone suffering. The odds are too high that someone reading
this also knows a Beth. That’s not okay. I may not have been starving myself,
literally to death, but someone who eats to the point of gaining 50 pounds is
clearly someone with an eating disorder, just a different kind. Perhaps that’s why I’ve intentionally avoided
this topic until now. I think there’s a
part of me that knows I came dangerously close at one time to falling down that
rabbit hole.
I’ve thought about Beth so many times since starting this
journey, often accompanied with a familiar twinge of guilt because I was unable
to reach her. I wish I could go back in
time with what I know now about God. I didn’t have a real relationship
with God back then, not like I do now. I
was still searching, trying to find my way.
I didn’t know the true power of the Holy Spirit, the true power of
prayer, or the belief in real miracles.
If time travel were possible, I would have so much more to say to my
sweet lost friend. What I wouldn’t give
for a second chance at one last conversation.
My journey now is so very different from all the times
before simply because of one thing, God.
We are humans comprised of mind, body, and spirit. Alcoholics Anonymous believes, as do I, that true
recovery involves each of these aspects as well. Belief in God and prayer is a positive
influence on promoting wholeness. It
brings hope into a life. Oh, if I could
have a second chance at one last conversation, it would be dramatically
different. I would bring Beth hope,
especially in the valleys of despair she experienced in her painful
journey. Recovery is a road often
darkened by shadows of doubt, hopelessness, self-hatred, confusion and
fear. I would show Beth a way to find strength
through prayer to fortify her from within. God would fill her with light and hope, even
in the bleakest situations. Maybe I
could have shown her a reason to live.
Instead of asking her why she just can’t eat more, I would
read the bible with her. We would talk about
Jesus and about love. I would talk to
her about how much Jesus loves her, what He did just for her, and what that
means. I would tell her that she’s not
alone. I would have told her I loved
her. I would tell her how I learned how
to love myself. I would help her find a
way to love herself. I would talk to her
about what it really means to love. I
would pray over her. The bible tells us
what it means to love and what it means to be loved by God. The bible tells us what it means to love
ourselves. Together we would read 1
Corinthians 13:47.
Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is
not self-seeking. It is not easily
angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.
Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always
hopes, always perseveres. Love never
fails.
I would share what I’ve learned on this journey. I would tell her that recovery is learning to
be kind towards yourself and your body.
It’s not easy but it’s the only way to heal and the only way to
freedom. You’re not alone in your
isolation of struggle. Recovery isn’t a
perfect path down a straight line. It’s
a winding journey and a process.
Recovery is learning to forgive yourself, and others, in order to move
forward. Recovery is shining a light in
all of your dark places, exposing the lies so you can rejoice in the
truth. Recovery is breaking free of the
bondage of the lies that you’re not good enough, and that you’re not beautiful. Recovery is true freedom and, because of God,
recovery is possible. Recovery is her
God given right. It is her right to not just survive but to thrive. I would tell her that God is love and He
loves her! Recovery is the realization
that you are perfect, just the way you are.
You are loved. That’s what I
would tell Elizabeth Ann Englehardt, if I had a second chance at one last
conversation.
Comments