Easter is OFFICIALLY my least favorite holiday. For multiple reasons. Oh, and sorry I've been a little M.I.A. for the past two days......... I stayed over at my neighbor's house.
Back to the topic of Easter...... There is a little story that goes with it, and I'm pretty sure it has something to do with my disordered eating.
It all started about two years ago. When I turned 14 (in November of 2010), my dad had begun to sink into the deep dark hole of depression. At first it just seemed like he was really tired, and I didn't realize it was so much more than that. We didn't see him for maybe a week at a time and then two or three. My parents were separated (they never actually married because they don't believe in marriage, but it was the same as a divorce), so my dad would come over to my mom's house where we lived to hang out with me and my siblings. By the time Christmas rolled around, we hadn't seen my dad for a while but he still came to celebrate with us. I can't remember exactly but I don't think we saw him after that until Easter. He had disappeared from our lives without a word and left us lost. I remember the feeling of never knowing when or if I would see him again.
On Easter day, my mom told me my dad had called her crying that he wanted to apologize and come back into our lives. I was incredibly angry and hurt and refused to see him, so I spent the night with my neighbor. I hated how it felt like he could just waltz in and out of our lives and I couldn't forgive him for that horrible winter of waiting. That was when I needed control. I couldn't deal with it by hugging him and letting him make it up to me. So I started restricting and tried so hard not to eat the foods I loved. By June of 2011 I had lost a few pounds. That was the end of my eighth grade year and the dread of high-school set in. Having gone to the same small school with the same people and teachers since kindergarten, I could barely imagine life any other way. In June, I went from 117 to 110 pounds, gaining the attention of my mother. She didn't send me away or take me to a therapist, but she definitely noticed. I spent that summer eating barely half of what my friend ate and making up stories about how "I ate a ton before I came".
When school started, I gained the weight back bit by bit and began to use food as my comfort item. Last year I got horrible grades and was grounded for most of the second semester. I've been at the same weight for about a year now and have hated every minute of it. I think it's time I get out of this enormous rut and start living again.
Hope that story was comprehensible....... my writing skills could use an improvement :P Feel free to ask questions or comment on anything :) The story could have been so much longer but it wasn't necessary. Feels good to get that off my chest. <3
