... And I have food issues. Sometimes, my girlfriend slurs the two and calls them "fissues". This makes them sound cuter and / or fishier, but they're really not all that cute.
When I was twelve, my mom married my step-dad. When I was thirteen, my half-sister was born. When I was fourteen, my step-dad died in a car accident. I wasn't terribly upset; I didn't know him well, and what I did know about him, I didn't like. He hadn't been part of our family for very long. My initial reaction wasn't sadness or anger or even shock, but dread: "Oh,
shit. This is going to wreak havoc on
everyone,"
And it did, particularly my mom. I'm responsible, maternal, kind of a control freak. And sometimes, this is okay. But when your mom is breaking down on your shoulder, or disappearing into her room after forgetting to feed the baby dinner, or dazed and confused while on Valium... control no longer seems glamourous.
And because I realized it was against my nature to surrender control completely, I started looking for other things to control
instead. Food was easy.
Sometimes I feel like a normal teenage girl, and while I never eat normally-- I'm either restricting, or haphazardly eating things I wouldn't normally allow myself in quantities that don't quite qualify as a "binge"-- there are days when I'm not concerned with calories or fat grams.
I don't like these days. They make me feel insane and unworthy and unhappy. I'm not sure if it's an eating disorder, or just an uncommon reaction to life.
