A letter to my friend's daughter: 'It's not just your life you're ruining. It's hers too.'

Dear Emma*,

It’s taken a lot to make me get to a point where writing this doesn’t feel like a betrayal. Now it feels like a necessity, because I don’t know where else to turn. You need to know what you are doing to your mum. And yourself. And we need to get you both some help.

You’ve been an anxious child for a lot of your life, I see that. You were bullied at school, your dad has done nothing but let you down. So I get why you began trying to control thing in your life in other ways… it is kind of all you have right now.

But I need to say something to you. What you’re doing to yourself isn’t just affecting you, it’s affecting your mum. And you need to see that.

I’ve known your mum for 30 years. We have been through a lot together  – moves, marriages, men…  and now I’m seeing her at rock bottom. She didn’t tell me a lot of what has been happening for a long time. I get why – it’s hard to tell someone your teenage daughter is beating you up. It’s hard to explain to someone that they can’t come around because she’s wrecked the kitchen in an angry outburst – throwing all your clothes into a dirty pool of oil and vinegar and ruining them all. It’s hard to explain why you’re so tired, when the reason is you’ve been driving around for four hours trying to keep your daughter calm. At 2am.

It’s hard to know how to tell someone why you’re crying, when the reason is, well, just everything.

And now you’re bingeing and purging, Emma. And it’s destroying her.

She has had to take all the food out of the house. Because if there is food there, you’ll binge on it. I went around to see her and looked in the fridge. There’s nothing there but water.

You’ve taken to walking to the 7/11 at any time during the night – and I mean any time. There you’re buying yourself huge amounts of junk food – ice cream, chips, lollies – and bingeing on them, then throwing them up.

Sometimes you can’t throw them up because your heart is racing and you feel like you may have a heart attack. But you can manage most of the time.

Your poor mum has been on the phone to everyone she can, Emma, in an attempt to help you. She’s searching day and night for ways to bring you out of this. She’s booked you in for countless psych sessions you’ve not turned up to, GP appointments you refuse to attend.

She’s been on the phone to countless specialists who are wonderful resources with heaps of information but who all end up telling her the same thing – you’re 18, that means you’re an adult and unless you want to be helped, she really can’t do anything.

Your mum has told you now that she won’t stop you. She knows you need to stop yourself and right now you can’t either.

Imagine how that feels.

A mother’s survival story: Anne Tonner didn’t have much experience with eating disorders, then her daughter was diagnosed with anorexia…

She’s watching you destroy your health, your looks, your teeth, your life – you’ve dropped out of work, out of study, out of your social life… and she knows that your heart races, that you could have a heart attack. And yet she’s saying she won’t stop you doing it.

Imagine knowing your daughter is in that grave danger and that you can’t do a thing to help.

She can’t really work at the moment – she’s taking all her holidays and stress leave, to try and keep an eye on you.

In case you die, Emma – that’s the reason.

Your mum is permanently exhausted – her body is in constant fight or flight mode I guess. She hears you go out and come home with the food. She hears you throw up. She hears you cleaning up. She hears you destroy your room. She tries to talk to you, sometimes having a conversation that finally gives her hope – you tell her you don’t want to do this anymore, that you want to be well.

But every time that first step is just too hard for you.

I can only imagine – you know it means a lot of work on your part, and it’s easier to just slide back and not try.

But she can’t let you do that – you’re her daughter. She’s calling someone new every day, a foundation, a university – and while they can support her and give her some strategies for dealing with you, they’re all saying the same things – that because of your age, you have to want help before they can step in.

The GP took a blood test from you at one point – the only way she could see to get you admitted into hospital was if you had some kind of abnormality there. Sadly (I can’t believe I am saying that) you had nothing wrong with you.

They can’t section you – or forcibly admit you into a psych ward – at your age unless you try and harm yourself. I can’t bear the thought of it, but your mum has said in her darkest hours that she kind of sometimes wishes you would try – and fail, of course – just because that would be the line in the sand.

That surely is enough Emma. When your mum is saying that kind of thing, it’s time, isn’t it, to actually ask for help? Please, I’m begging you, reach out to someone and tell them you’re ready.

Ask to be admitted to a hospital where they can help you, where they can look after you, and above all, stop you from doing this. There are wonderful people at the Butterfly Foundation and other eating disorder resources who can really make a difference and show you you’re not alone  – but they can’t help you unless you want help.

Please want help. Because it’s not just you Emma, whose life you’re ruining. It’s hers too.

If you want to talk to someone about eating disorders or body image issues, contact The Butterfly Foundation on 1800 33 4673 or visit their website. 

If you are having problems with anxiety or depression, Beyond Blue may be able to help. They are on 1300 22 4636 or you can head to their website, or call Lifeline’s 24 hour helpline 13 11 14.

*This name has been changed for privacy reasons.