The End of Sanity

Today I had to have brunch with my boyfriend’s extra-dysfunctional family, half of whom have been staying with us for a week. The week has been a disaster on the food front and I have been eaten alive by anxiety (see previous posts about his step mother’s cooking/force feeding). I come from a fairly dysfunctional family myself, (well mainly my dad), so I shouldn’t throw stones, but his take the biscuit. They are putting so much strain on our relationship that I don’t know how long I can hold on any more. I have gone from fighting with him over why we aren’t engaged to wondering if I actually want to marry him and if could tolerate his family for the rest of my life. I feel like I cannot.

This is not the place for me to go into details about them, but suffice to say brunch was a no go for me. Firstly, they chose a dive of a diner that I didn’t want to go to. Secondly, there was nothing remotely healthy on the menu for me to eat. Thirdly, they behaved rudely and spoke inappropriately for the whole meal. I perused the menu trying to think what might do the least damage to my body considering that my sanity was already shot. The waitress took everyone’s order and then looked at me expectantly. I ordered fruit – it wasn’t an option on the menu. By this point most people had downed a milkshake each and conversation was not improving. Our meal eventually arrived and the plates were drowning in cheesy scrambled eggs, greasy hash browns and butter laden toast. It made me feel ill. My little bowl of fruit arrived and I ignored the stares and eye rolling from my boyfriend’s sisters. If they thought fruit was awkward then they should try being a fly on the wall at their own family gatherings.

After brunch I had to endure a couple more hours of family time and then we got to say our goodbyes, at last. This week has felt like an eternity and these odd people have made me rethink whether I want to be with this man for the rest of my life or not. That to me is heartbreaking. Anxiety derived from our relationship has the most detrimental effect on my ED.

I asked my boyfriend to stop at the organic store on the way home and I picked up a tofu salad. I didn’t give him a chance to interject or comment on my inability to eat shitty food in an even shittier diner with his fucked up family. Earlier in the week I alluded to the fact that my eating was suffering and so was I. Today I don’t have the strength to have one more battle with him not over food, family or our (lack of) engagement. It is enough for me now to crawl into bed with Marya Hornbacker’s “Wasted”, and pray that I recover from this ordeal/relapse as soon as possible. This week was a major setback that I did not need at this point in time.  I wish I had something more enlightened or inspiring to say for the weekend but that is how the cookie crumbles (no ED pun intended)!

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