You Can Lead Me To The Kitchen, But You Can’t Make Me Eat.

The past few days have been flat out horrible, and they keep getting worse. After work today I decided to go to my family’s house. I was so flustered and upset about my past couple days I sat down and started my homework as my little sibs ran circles around me.
I got more bad news, told my mom behind tears, “I just can’t deal with this shit right now.” and went back to my homework. Trying desperately not to start bawling at any second.
Well, then my step dad got home. Him and my brother wanted to go to a buffet for dinner. The panic started to fill up. Mom knew about my ED, she knew I was already upset. She coaxed my other sibs into going with their brother and dad for dinner while her and I stayed behind and she worked on my most recent bad news.
After a while she looked up and said, “What do you want for dinner?” I looked up and responded, “grapes.” which I had been munching on while doing my homework at the time. She began to list off foods, none of which sounded appealing.
“Do you want a tomato and corn? *holding up fresh produce*”
“Maybe tomato, do we have balsamic vinegar?”
“Yeah, do you want a sandwich?”
“A tomato sandwich?”
“You could make an egg with peppers and onions.”
“That doesn’t sound too bad.”
My little sister walked in the door and asked if she could help (she had just gotten home after her dinner outting).
I said of course and let her cut the onion, peppers, etc. I cracked the egg, carefully letting the egg white slide into the cup for my sister to whisk, while the yolk and shell went in the garbage.
So, I had made an egg with onion, mushroom, peppers, garlic and tomato. And there it sat, on the stove, untouched.
My littlest brother said something about wanting a mushroom, and mom flipped out, “That is your sister’s food, no!” “I was going to get one out of the fridge.”
I don’t want to eat. The laxatives are still in my system. I’m not hungry. I’m so damn stressed.
You can lead a disordered person to the kitchen, but you can’t make them eat. So, when mom left the kitchen to go read to my brother, the egg “accidentally” managed to make it perfectly down the drain for the garbage disposable to devour.
I’m only getting worse.


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