Cathy Robinson invites you to read the following short excerpt and quotes from the various chapters of her new book, "A Melody of Hope: Surviving your Daughter's Eating Disorder".
Mothers who have suffered through their daughters' illness have  contributed to this must-read book.
Chapter Two, Pages 12-15: Shooting Star by Patrice Skovgaard
"When Robyn was young, I used to wonder how I got so lucky. She was the perfect child—even-tempered, agreeable, never a discipline problem. She excelled at school in every subject and was popular with classmates and a friend to all. A natural leader and peacemaker, she made the troubles of the world her own and truly cared about what happened to other people in her own little world and globally. She was a gifted athlete and played every sport with grace and speed. Her future seemed assured, and she talked about scholarships to become a doctor or an engineer. Nothing was out of her reach. Her father and I had divorced when Robyn was four and her sister, Lindsay, was six. After a couple of years, I moved to another city for a better job and a fresh start. As time went on, their father contacted them less and less; and visits became more and more infrequent, partly because of the kids’ weekend activities and partly because of their father’s inability to maintain a close relationship with them. He had remarried, and the situation there was less than welcoming for the girls.
I was fine with this on the surface. I had also remarried, and the girls were busy and seemed happy. I did not feel that it was my job to maintain their father’s relationship with the girls. If he could not be bothered to initiate contact, I did not think I needed to force the issue. I made him aware of upcoming school plays and important sporting events; if he chose not to come, that was his loss.
When I was being honest with myself, I was angry with their father for deserting them. It had been a difficult divorce, and we could no longer speak civilly. I was just as glad not to have to deal with him, while at the same time I agonized that he made less and less of an effort to be a dad. Robyn had felt especially close to him, and while she rarely spoke about it, his absence hurt her. Robyn and I had always been open with each other. She talked to me about everything. We had good discussions about drugs, smoking, sex, and birth control. We talked about her dad and what she was feeling about him. She had a mature view of things, knew what was right and what was wrong, and seemed to be understanding toward her father. I supported her in everything—going with her to all her games, tournaments, concerts and cheering her on. I was proud of her achievements and of her levelheadedness. I was certain she was on the right path.
When Robyn entered grade nine at high school, things changed. Suddenly, she was a smaller fish in a bigger pond; there were kids who were taller than she was, better and more competitive at sports, and equally as bright. It was hard for her to adapt to this, and while her marks remained high and she still played on as many teams as she could manage, her confidence in herself seemed to slowly fade. She started going out less and letting the phone ring without answering it. The summer after grade nine, she lost her way. She spent a lot of time on her own, bored and restless, rollerblading by herself for hours every day.
That previous spring, she had badly sprained an ankle playing soccer and was out of sports for several weeks. The inactivity combined with ordinary adolescence had caused a minor weight gain. Comments about her weight from unthinking people stung her deeply, and during the summer, she lost all that weight and more. She also decided that she wanted to become a vegetarian. I wasn’t totally against this. I brought her home books from the library and worked with her to make sure she would get enough protein and variety in her diet. By the end of the summer, she was slim and fit and ready for grade ten. I told her that she should not lose any more weight. I was so unsuspecting. I was so blind.
There were many things going on in Robyn’s mind that she was no longer sharing with anyone. She had written a journal in grade nine as a school assignment, before any of the physical signs of her illness. It was handed in to a teacher for marking on a regular basis. In this journal, she bared her soul. The first line in it was how her father had not called her in several months. Her anguish was clear and spelled out, page after page of pain and sadness. She talked about not eating, about how lost she was feeling, about how she was not good enough, about how much she missed her dad. This journal had been marked by the teacher on several pages. It was a clear cry for help that no one heard. I did not come into possession of this journal until much later after it was written and Robyn was already lost to her illness. Despite my complaints and meeting with the school board, nothing was done other than an assurance that the teacher would now actually read some of the entries instead of just marking them for the amount of content.
As grade ten started, the weight loss did not stop. She became way too thin; she had trouble playing soccer, and it looked like she was running through water. It happened so fast. She went to an out-of-town soccer tournament over Thanksgiving weekend. We had family coming for the weekend, so I did not go with her. Partway through the tournament, I got a phone call. She could not play; she was too sick. One of the moms had caught her throwing up in a bathroom stall. They were sending her home early. I cried that whole night—inconsolable, fearful. The next day, I went and picked her up at the airport, and she spent the rest of the weekend at home. She would not discuss what had happened. She helped to cook Thanksgiving dinner. She sat at the table and picked at her food. I was elated when she had a piece of pumpkin pie. We went to our family doctor, and he confirmed that she was anorexic and gave her a stern talking-to. Robyn sat on his examination table and listened vacantly and smiled as if she thought he was crazy. He referred us to a pediatrician who specialized in eating disorders. We began to see her regularly..."
QUOTES FROM THE BOOK
Chapter One
" Slipping Through My Fingers" by Cathy Robinson
"It is a cold November day and Melody has just walked past me. I GASP! - She is a human skeleton! I clamp my hand over my mouth to keep from screaming out loud from the shock. She looked like death . . . I silently screamed, God, please help her!"
Chapter Two
"Shooting Star" by Patrice Skovgaard
"Robyn was a star, a brilliant shooting star. Her illness snuffed out that light completely. But now, years later, her light shines again, not as brightly as before, but steady and enduring..."
Chapter Three
"Our Million Dollar Family" by Tina Kulifaj
"There are times that we both feel like leaving to escape from all the madness and sadness…but we know we simply can’t leave. “Where did we go wrong” is a question we often ask ourselves… “What is happening to our million dollar family”? ... "
Chapter Four
"Maybe the Bar Was Too High" by Jo-Ann Smith
"As the mother, I tried to understand what was hurting her. I tried to understand why she couldn’t be happy. “What caused the void”? “What could fill it”? “ What had hurt her so much that she couldn’t get past it”? ..."
Chapter Five
"Just for Today, Do It for You" by Dolores Elliott
"It was with great relief that Ali came to the kitchen the next morning asking for some french toast. I was elated and got the bread out . . .Hallelujah! This absurdity was over. Right . . . who was I kidding? ..."
Chapter Six
"This Too Shall Pass" by Ruth Dubois
"Knowing that others were taking care of the praying parts let me concentrate on arguing, bargaining, and pleading with God. It was through these confrontations that I shouted out my pain, begged Him for some answers, and somehow found comfort..."
Chapter Seven
"A Daughter’s Story: Mami, Can you Hear Me?" by Denise Palacios
"Mami, I wish you could peel me off the bathroom floor, wipe the matted hair off my moist forehead, and put your tiny cool hand on my searing neck. I wish I could fall into your arms, instead of falling into this wretched toilet. Soothe me, Mami, let me fall apart near your heart..."
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