I read a lot of blogs. Most of the blogs I read are by women who are funnier, smarter, and just generally cooler than I am. Some of them get a ton of comments, some of them only a few. Many times I really enjoy the latest post, but don’t have anything to add other than, “Hey, that’s a great post, thanks!” I feel like a big dork if I just post that, but I’m not a writer. I don’t have a problem not posting if there’s 100+ comments already, but with a small blog, I feel like I should. It’s not that I wouldn’t like to make friends or get involved in an interesting discussion, but with most of the blogs I read I view them as more like an article in the newspaper, or I just feel like I’m not cool or smart enough to converse. What’s the etiquette here? Do I post when I read, just to be polite? Or, do I only post when I have something salient to add? Does it depend on the blogger? Can you recommend a good book/website or just a few tips on blog etiquette?

A lurker, not a stalker

Two months ago my boyfriend T of four years started treatment for anorexia and exercise bulimia. I’ve always been aware he has some strange eating habits, and he’s definitely a perfectionist, but it wasn’t until we hit a prolonged path of stressors over the past eighteen months that the combination became both dangerous and frightening. Even when he realized he needed help (and was ready for it), we had a hell of a time getting a doctor to diagnose it, and even now the insurance is giving us shit about paying for the treatment, because their preferred eating disorder treatment facilities are female-only, so for right now, we’re paying out of pocket, and just barely keeping our heads above water. (He’s not an inpatient, but he has daily counseling of various types for several hours — he’s a grad student and with the time needed for treatment and his general health, he can just barely make his enrollment requirements, and TA-ing is out for this semester, so aside from a few small grants he has, I’m the sole breadwinner at the moment). Needless to say, getting all this ironed out was pretty stressful, and with the therapy and work and bills — well, I was going to say we were pretty “stretched thin,” financially and emotionally, but you know, fuck. Not the greatest metaphor, huh?

But okay, I already knew that that our health insurance sucks even more than average (one of the aforementioned stressors being a cancer scare on my part this spring), and that doctors and psychiatrists can be fuckwits with the best of them. (No, he can’t just eat more protein — “have your girl make you a big steak, okay?” Dr. Jackass.) And I know that we could be worse off — now that he’s in a program that treats men, we’re getting some affidavits that may help us recoup some money from the insurance, and even if that doesn’t pan out, we are holding on financially so far, we do have people who we can borrow money from before moving into an empty refrigerator box if it comes to that, and thank God we live in a city where we could even find someone who works with male eating-disorder patients.

I wasn’t expecting much support from my parents on this, and his family — well, let’s just say his issues about food and control and self-punishment didn’t come out of a void. But I did hope my family could at least have the grace to treat it as an illness. But my mom keeps calling and leaving passive-aggressive voicemails about how I’m working too hard (to keep on top of the bills), and that “Daddy would have died before sending [her] out to work” (never mind that I like my job, am good at it and that whole it-being-the-21st-century thing), and my dad contributes comments such as T should just “sack it up” and “be a man,” and asking why someone needs a “spa” and a “shrink” to tell them to “eat their damn dinner.” (I should say that my brother is being a sweetheart, but he’s studying abroad and thus only intermittently available and also, he’s only twenty — I don’t want to dump this all on him; I still think of him as my little brother.)

But hey, at least we’ve got all our warm, compassionate, open-minded, intelligent friends, right?

Most of them who know just don’t believe it — or in it. They keep saying “but men aren’t even supposed to be skinny — why does he want to do that?” and can’t seem to get that it just isn’t that simple, and that this is real, not us spoofing a bad Lifetime movie. One of them read somewhere that 20% of men who develop anorexia have gender-identity issues or are gay and proceeded to ask incredibly detailed questions about our sex life and T’s past. Several of them have complained that we’re “avoiding” them by declining dinner invites and when I’ve tried to say briefly that any event centered around food is going to be too stressful for T right now, I’ve gotten lectured about being unreasonable, or being anti-feminist for subverting my social life to his comfort.

One couple complains frequently (to me and to others in out circle) that we “owe” them dinner from a previous invite — I’ve suggested alternatives, even trying to scrounge up theater tickets that aren’t really in our budget, but no, only dinner at a specific restaurant will do, and they think T is just being a “baby” and I’m coddling him. Another woman even told me she felt bad for me, but she couldn’t worry too much about T while fashion magazines gave young women such unrealistic expectations and that in fact, insurance should only cover eating disorder treatment for women because we’re the ones who are culturally oppressed. When I hung up on her, speechless, she proceeded to tell various mutual acquaintances that even if I was stressed, she wasn’t going to be my punching bag.

Others just persist in bringing or sending us food, and while I get that they think they’re helping, spring rolls aren’t going to cure T, and being bullied into eating is the last thing he needs. Not to mention the people who thinks it’s just fucking hilarious that right now I weigh more than him, and who make “jokes” asking whether I’ve been eating all the food, and if we can only have missionary-position sex because I might crush him. I’m going to brain the next person who makes a “Nick and Nora” joke. Yeah, I get it. The movie’s called The Thin Man. And you’re an asshole.

Venting aside, my problem is that with so many of our friends flaking out and the only family support nine time zones away, I’m feeling really, really alone. In fairness, of course this isn’t all our friends, but in general the most supportive people aren’t local. Maybe that’s because it’s easier for people who knew us in undergrad to understand our dynamic (that we aren’t particularly melodramatic people, for instance — it’s not like I started shrieking “anorexia!” because he lost ten pounds), or that we’ve only lived in this city a year and we haven’t made really deep connections with people here, or maybe it’s just bad luck, but regardless, while I’m grateful for friendly emails and phone calls, I really want some people here I can rely on. Not even for hard-core analysis or shoulders to cry on, but even just to grab coffee or catch a movie and talk about nothing for a couple of hours. I do get some support counseling from the treatment center, but it’s not the same, you know?

It’s not as if we’re pariahs, exactly, but I really can’t bring myself to call the people who’ve made (or laughed at) those kinds of comments, or who seem to see the situation as so much fodder for their blogs, anti-media/anti-consumerism/anarchist campaigns, or stand-up comedy routines. On the other hand, I just don’t have the emotional energy (or time!) to seek out new friends at this point. Am I supposed to just swallow this stuff for the sake of a little companionship? Or how do I let go of wanting that companionship, or what do I do to replace it?

Sorry, Sars, I know a lot of this is just a big whine, but I’m really bewildered about where to go from here. Am I being totally insensitive in expecting our friends to be “politically correct,” (as one friend (?) scathingly referred to it) about this? Other friends keep telling me I’ve lost/need to keep my sense of humor, and I’m so upside-down and worn out I feel like I no longer have much perspective on anything. I mean, I get that eating disorders are relatively rare in men, and even more underrepresented in cultural depictions of the same. It took a lot longer for “anorexia” to click in my head than it would have for a female friend exhibiting the same symptoms (and of course I’m still beating myself up for that, too). I’m not expecting people to be experts. And I get that a lot of people use humor as a defensive response, or a way to deal with an untenable situation. I watch The Daily Show like everyone else.

All I expected is the basic sympathy and compassion they’d extend to other illnesses. Just last year, one of these friends was ranting about the stigma still attached to mental-health issues in this country, and now he’s joking about how T could make a killing if he wrote a weight-loss book. Maybe I was naive before, but I’ve known these same people to be sympathetic and understanding about depression, for example — but because T has a “girl’s disease,” it’s as if it’s fair game. I want T to be able to lean on me, and I feel like I’m about to topple over.

Sincerely,
Woman on the edge (of sticking a fork in the ear of the next person who quotes “Jack Sprat” to me)

I have a problem that has been sort of brewing for a
while, and I think that I need a fresh perspective on it,
if you’d be so kind as to oblige.

My paternal grandmother has been vaguely mentally unwell
for a while now. We are almost positive that she is
depressed and paranoid with really bad self-esteem
problems. I say “almost” because she has never been
diagnosed, and this is where the problem is.

As a little background, she lives next door to my family,
and has two other children in town. She has been having a
very difficult time since her daughter, my aunt, died
young about eight years ago. Since then, she’s had to deal
with the rapidly disintegrating health of my grandfather.
He died this past summer, and that has only exacerbated
the problem, as you’d expect. She feels worse, and
everyone is sort of tiptoeing around her in her in what
they feel is her fragile state. My mother, who acts as her
main confidante (mostly because her own children are
uncomfortable with really emotional issues), hears her
every day. Hears, ad nauseam, about how she thinks she’s
ugly and awful and no one really cares for her. So much
more than that, really, but it’s sort of beside the
point.

Before Christmas, she told my mother that she was
considering going to a counsellor to try to work some of
this out, and my mother encouraged her to do so. My
grandmother agreed to go after she had done her Christmas
travelling and visiting. Well, that time has passed, and
she’s avoiding the issue, even though the problems haven’t
gone away. She has started lashing out at my mother,
because she says she feels betrayed (my mother told her a
couple of days ago that she can’t stand it when my
grandmother puts herself down). My mother has been asking
my father to talk to her about getting help, but he’s
stalling. Mum, as the only one who ever confronts my
grandmother about this stuff, is feeling really isolated
now.

Finally! My question is about how I should handle this. My
instinct thus far has been to stay out of it, and that’s
what I’ve been doing my whole life. But, I am (ostensibly)
an adult now, and am pretty close to my grandmother. I
don’t know if that puts me in the position of trying to
help her out. It’s not like butting into a fight between
the two of them, but rather it would be another person who
loves her backing up my mother saying that she really
needs to go talk to a professional. I should mention that
my mother hasn’t asked me to do anything, and it’s not
really a conversation that I’m gung-ho to have. Should I
very gently try to bring it up to grandmother, or would I
be way out of line?

Thanks,
I just realised that my roommate reads this column and
will totally recognize me