Today’s guest blogger is Lauren Meredith, my roommate during the first two years of college. Lauren and I attended Temple University’s Tyler School of Art from 1992-1996. Today, Lauren designs and makes jewelry. Her site isn’t quite completed, but please visit Meredith Jewelry Design to see her work. She’s a wonderful artist, and I’m so happy to see how far she’s come from our days in art school.

I had no idea Lauren had been reading my blog for most of the time I’ve been writing it, so I was surprised, to say the least, when she wrote me and offered to write a post. I accepted her offer, telling her I wasn’t really sure how I would feel about it, and acknowledging I was considerably nervous about what she would say since I was a diabetes train wreck back then. Diabetes care really falls by the wayside when one is consumed by an eating disorder, so from an observer’s standpoint, diabetes was very secondary for me during those years. Of course the diabetes was always there and it had everything to do with my eating disorder, but it played a more subversive role, and as you will see, I think Lauren’s experience of life with me reflects that.

I first met Lee Ann seventeen years ago, during my freshman year in college. I needed a new roommate because my former roommate wanted to clean my side of the room and talk “bible” with me. Seventeen years is half of my lifetime—I was in fact seventeen years old at the time. I had seen Lee Ann around campus prior to moving in with her, but we hadn’t really known each other. We met briefly to see if we’d get along, which was when she told me that she was bulimic and diabetic. I didn’t confess to her that I a social anxiety disorder, because I hadn’t yet thought about it in those terms.

In the Dorm, Freshman Year, 1992-1993 (Source: Lauren Meredith)

Dorm life with Lee Ann was a completely different experience from anything else. She was obsessed with music from Manchester, England, and the resulting collection of cassette tapes was impressive. She had a pair of Doc Martens for every day of the week, and was ahead of her time in her affection for hoodies and thrift-store-vintage clothes. The days and nights with her–attending classes, catching meals in the dorm cafeteria, working on projects in our shared room–were often amazing and hilarious.

Lee Ann was gregarious and possessed a truly wicked sense of humor. She had the kind of laugh that resounded through a crowd, kind of a loud “Haw-haw-haw,” often following one or another of her scathing, self-deprecating jokes or physical stunts. I recall at least one instance of rear-end flashing (really, she did have an unbelievable, purple bruise!) She also became famous throughout the dorm for yelling a phrase that I’m hesitant to repeat, but trust me when I tell you that you’ll never hear your mother say anything like it.

Halloween, Sophomore Year, 1993 (Source: Lauren Meredith)

There was a darker side to Lee Ann. (There was–and still is–a darker side to me, for that matter, but at that time I was under the impression that I was the average, normal, boring one.) I watched as Lee Ann experienced drastic mood swings and serious depression. I witnessed her battle with her eating disorder, and I’ll be honest here—it’s very difficult to live with someone struggling with bulimia, particularly in a dorm room. I was aware that my presence in her living space violated the privacy she needed. In fact, I recall that her desire to have a roommate was because she believed it might help curb her bulimia. A worthwhile experiment, but it failed—I believe that my presence just forced her behaviors further underground.

We all have our struggles. At that time in my life, I was living in my own social hell. I was inept at making friends, borrowing Lee Ann’s friends instead. I was oversensitive to all perceived slights, which were numerous. Frankly, I don’t know how she could stand to live with me. Lee Ann helped me survive freshman year. She survived, too.

We lived together for another year in an off-campus apartment. I saw more of Lee Ann’s eating disorder that year, and (I’m sure) she saw more of my social anxiety disorder. Off-campus life went like this: we argued a little, she had a serious relationship with a man, and I had a serious relationship with my bedroom. You know, normal roommate stuff. And, sadly, after that year, she moved out and we rarely saw each other.

So, the years went by. We graduated and moved on. I thought of Lee Ann often; mostly, I was concerned for her. We spoke once or twice after graduation, and one of those times she had gone into rehab for bulimia. I wished her well, for whatever that was worth. After that, we lost touch, which is so typical of me.

Now, I have been reading “The Butter Compartment” for about a year. I am so impressed with the person Lee Ann has become. I had nothing to do with her success, and honestly, what a surprise it was for me! I remember how bad her bulimia was, so much so that it almost overshadowed the fact that she was also struggling with diabetes. I always knew that Lee Ann was a passionate person with an obvious desire to succeed. But from my perspective at the time, I could only see the endless struggle.

What did I know?

Keep on, Lee Ann!

With love,
Lauren

To employ a great eating disorder metaphor, I’m still digesting this. It’s likely that in the near future, I’ll share my thoughts about this in another post. For now though, a big hug and much gratitude to Lauren for being a guest blogger today, and a belated thanks for being one of my primary supports back during those darker days.