One way I'm just like my mother is that I have a tendency to ignore a problem, outright deny that there is even a problem at all, until it is so bad it can no longer be ignored or denied. It evolves into something that becomes so massive that one can no longer look away. The problem must be confronted, after being allowed to grow into something huge and terrifying.
My sister, her fiance, Sid... even I have been wondering for a very long time if my youngest sister has an eating disorder. She used to be such a little meatball, and all of a sudden she lost all the weight and started looking...well, for lack of a better word...scarily tiny. Yesterday, my mother admitted that she thinks Abbie has bulimia.
When Abbie came to visit over the summer, I watched her like a hawk. I had my suspicions. But she didn't go to the bathroom after meals, she ate her food just like everyone else, so I figured I was being paranoid. Jessica tells me now that yes, Abbie came back from summer vacation having gained weight. But she lost it all immediately. And now Mom says that yes, there might be a problem.
If my mother is admitting that there is even the possibility that something is wrong, it is bad. This is the woman who denied having an ear infection up until her eardrum almost ruptured. If she says she thinks there is a problem, well then, there damn well is a problem.
Jessica asked me, "what do I do?" and I said I didn't know. She said, "how can we make this better?" and I said I didn't think we could, on our own. She asked, "where do I turn to get help for her?" and all I could think to suggest was to call the local hospitals and start asking about ED counseling. I feel helpless. My baby sister is sick, and I can't help her. All I can do is sit on the sidelines and hope that for once, for-fucking-once my mother will be able to get her shit together and do something for her youngest daughter before it's too late.