Anorexia and The First Affair

He didn’t want a funeral. He didn’t want a wake. He wanted a service but it was precisely documented with the funeral home of exactly what he wanted ~ who spoke, what readings, what songs. He didn’t want a military funeral although he could have had one. That was the only thing I did that he didn’t want. I wanted the pomp and circumstance and I got it. Surely he forgave me, but one can never be sure.

Sissy and Mom were of no help, but then Dad and I knew that I’d end up running the show. Perhaps it was because he knew this that he put me in charge of everything. I’d been in charge of everything my whole life, not by choice, but by default. I was good at picking up the pieces, consoling all the others when he was angry. The only person I could never console was myself.

I first stopped eating in 6th grade although I didn’t know what anorexia was then. All I knew was that I was nauseaous all the time and just couldn’t tolerate anything except water and milk. I was terribly thirsty all the time. I didn’t speak, just slept for a week. Doctors could find nothing wrong with me until finally one doctor simply told me I was fine and things would be ok. As if he’d produced a magic potion, I was cured.

Nobody ever talked about it nor wondered what had made me stop everything in my life. In fact, I don’t think I ever allowed myself to know until I started to put the pieces together years later. The timing of this first bout of not eating coincides with the affair Dad had according to Mom’s storyline. He was ready to leave us, came home crying because his partner decided at the last minute not to leave his wife and family and ended the affair.

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