A Year to Remember (30 page)

Five of the calls were from my mother. First, she asked me to call her back to let her know how my trip went. My mother’s messages became increasingly more frantic as time passed and I hadn’t returned her call. The last message said she had talked to Caleb, who had informed her we had broken up at the airport. She figured out I had holed up in my condo and asked me to text her when I got into the office. She also told me to disregard the messages on my cell.

The rest of the calls were from the media. The local station had called to say they would be happy to follow-up on my breakup with Caleb, but only if I agreed to an interview. Unfortunately, I couldn’t do that because I’d be in violation of my contract with the
Morning
show. I needed a lawyer, but there was no way in hell I’d call Adam for his help.

My best option would be to let the
Morning
show
know about the miscommunication concerning my alleged engagement to Caleb. They had called to check on my progress and to schedule some dates for additional coverage of my search. I dreaded making the call, but I had no choice.

We set up an interview for the end of the month. I’d talk about my journey so far, including my breakup with Caleb and my travels to Israel.

At least, Adam would learn Caleb and I were not engaged, if he hadn’t already found out from my brother. I don’t know why it mattered to me that he discovered the truth of the situation, but it did, even though he had already replaced me with the woman who’d answered the phone. I loved him too much to cause him any further suffering, although I questioned whether he had ever loved me at all. I couldn’t think about it without hurting and chose to lock it away in the confines of my heart for now.

The sessions with my clients helped me forget about my own problems as I concentrated on someone else for a change. Then, Dina walked in my office.

In the two weeks since I had last seen her, she must have lost ten pounds, although she tried to hide it with her baggy sweatshirt. Her neck muscles bulged and her skin appeared scaly and dry.

How had I missed the signs all these months I treated her?

I asked her for her journal and confirmed my suspicions.

“Dina, when we decided you’d journal, you agreed to write about your feelings. Can you show me where in this journal I can find it?”

She took it back from me puzzled and flipped through it. “It’s on every page. I don’t understand what you want.”

I had to be careful about how I advanced this conversation, not wanting to scare her from talking.

“I do see it on every page. Do you think you’re fat?”

She burst into tears. “I’m huge. That’s why he didn’t want me. Christine’s pretty and skinny and I’m just a fat lump.”

“Have you always felt this way?” I had little training in eating disorders, but I did know what it felt like to be fat.

“Since I was in middle school. That’s when I got huge. I tried to stop eating, but I got too dizzy, so I had to start eating again.”

“Do you do anything now to lose weight?”

She squirmed in her chair and started to bite her nails. I noticed for the first time she had bitten them down to the quick and her cuticles were red. Dina didn’t want to answer the question. She shook her head.

“It says here you exercise a total of four hours a day. When do you exercise?”

She appeared proud of herself as she responded. “I get up at four in the morning and I run on my mom’s treadmill until six. Then after school, I run again until my parents get home from work. They’re proud of the fact I take such good care of my health.”

“Do they know you run four hours a day?”

“No. They don’t know about my morning run, and I think they assume I’ve only done like a half hour when they get home. It doesn’t matter because they know it’s important to be thin.”

“Do you ever throw up?”

“Sometimes. Only if I can’t exercise enough to burn off all my calories.”

I had no doubt in my mind. Dina had bulimia. I needed to speak with her mother.

“Dina, with your permission, I’d like to talk about your exercise with your mom. Would that be okay?”

She nodded, so I opened the door to my waiting room to invite her mother into the session.

“Dina and I wanted to let you know she believes she’s fat. In order to help her lose weight, she’s been waking up at four in the morning to run on the treadmill. She runs for two hours. Then after school she runs another two hours. I’m concerned she might be hurting herself.”

I didn’t want her to say too much and put Dina in a defensive position.

Her mother understood immediately. She stared at her daughter, brows furrowed in concern.

“Dina restricts her calories, but it’s not enough for her. She exercises to burn off the calories and if she can’t, she throws up.”

Her mother made a choking sound.

“I’d like Dina to receive treatment at an in-patient facility. It’s close by and there will be a lot of girls with similar body concerns. Would that be all right with both of you?”

They both nodded in agreement, tears shimmering in both their eyes.

“In the meantime, I want Dina to limit her exercise and try not to throw up. Could you try, Dina?”

Eyes wide, she nodded.

“Dina, if you don’t mind, could you wait in the other room while I give your mom the referral information?” I needed to speak with her mother privately.

She left the room and her mother began to softly cry.

“I didn’t know. What kind of a mother doesn’t know?”

“She didn’t want you to know. She’s kept it hidden from everyone, including me. The important thing is to get her help immediately. I’ll call the treatment center to see if I can get Dina in right away. Until then, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t try and change Dina’s behavior. I know it’s hard, but I don’t want to scare her. Can you do that?”

“Yes. Whatever we need to get my baby better.”

Dina and her mother left my office as my next client arrived. At eight o’clock, I sat at my desk to process the day’s events.

I couldn’t help but beat myself up for missing all the signs of Dina’s bulimia. What kind of psychologist was I? If anyone understood what it was like to feel fat, it was me.

Dina had relied on her best friend Christine, who in turn betrayed her trust. Coupled with what she deemed as rejection by Robby, the boy she liked, she felt a loss of control. She possessed an inability to express her emotions as she obsessed over the event I presumed pushed her over the edge. Furthermore, she withdrew from social situations and didn’t appear to have any close friends. She blamed her body for it all, deciding being thin would bring her happiness.

After I left a message for my contact at the treatment facility, my mom walked into my office and sat on the couch. She waited for my explanation. I didn’t know where to start.

I told her when I returned from Israel, I had already decided to end my relationship with Caleb. He set the scene with the media and trapped me into accepting his marriage proposal.

I told her about falling in love with a man in Israel who professed to love me, too, except he never wanted to get married. I didn’t tell her it was Adam. It would be too awkward when he joined one of our family functions. She’d try to play matchmaker, and I couldn’t allow him to hurt me again.

Then I filled her in on Dina, without mentioning her by name. My mother showed great interest in my self-contempt over missing the signs of Dina’s eating disorder. I wanted to know why.

“Sara, sometimes it’s difficult to see in our client what we ignore in ourselves. You both have body issues. Weight is just a symptom of a disease.”

The little girl in me wanted to protest and slam the door to show my mom she was wrong. The woman in me felt shame and guilt because someone else had uncovered the secrets I assumed I kept well hidden. The psychologist in me agreed with my mom.

“Have you ever tried an OA meeting?”

“You mean Overeaters Anonymous? Aren’t the people there like four hundred pounds and anorexics and bulimics?” Familiar with the Twelve Step organization, I never met anyone who attended meetings. I couldn’t picture myself in a room filled with people talking about God.