Greetings friends and lovers–tonight I want to talk about something a little more personal and closer to the bone. If you have read my posts from the beginning, you know that I’m currently living in my parents’ guest room and that my dad and I don’t always get along.
I’d like to say that’s it’s about 50/50. When we get along, it’s great–we laugh and have an amazing time hanging out together. But when it’s bad–it’s really, really really bad. We snipe at each other in a way that people who love each other shouldn’t. And it always gets nasty and personal–very fucking personal.
And today/tonight it was moderately good, until a little bit ago, when my dad decided that he was going to make an issue of my snacking habits (or lack thereof)–I’ll get there in a minute. First, a little background.
You see, I’m not really a snacker–unless there is fruit or carrots involved (I’m more than a little obsessed by carrots right now)–in which case, I’ll eat way too much and get sick. About a week ago, my mom was getting concerned that I was only eating twice a day–and that I wasn’t eating at home very much. All of that is normal for me, so it didn’t turn into a thing. She trusts me when I say that I’m fine. I struggled with a bit of an eating disorder (bulimia/over exercising/extreme calorie restriction) when I was younger and she worries, especially when my life is in disarray, like now, because that’s usually when it flares up in my thoughts more than I care to admit.
Fast forward to tonight and my dad commenting, nastily, on whether I should have some candy. He is of the (apparent) opinion that I should stay as small as possible–regardless of how I go about doing it. He has always been a pain in my ass in this way–and it’s no fucking wonder how I ended up with a moderately serious eating disorder. The thing about it is that I have always had a place to go and get away from his toxic crap and now I don’t, at least for now. It’s fascinating to me, as a clinician, how quickly we all have reverted back to our original, long-term family dynamic–but me, as me, is really annoyed by being back in a “child” role.
So that brings us to here–now. I’m already uber crabby because of a change in my meds–and should be left alone without all of the nasty snipes. I’m not especially good company right now–and should probably just go to bed. But before I do, the picture below. I was messing with the tool bar–and inserted a photo. I have yet to figure out how to remove it. xo
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