The things I remember

5 years old he corners me into the built in desk in the kitchen, I forgot to clean my room that morning. He's so close to my face I can see all the hairs growing in his beard. He opens the draw directly to my left, hard. It snaps shut because of the force. I go to open it for him, we're looking for a pen but he gets frustrated and slams it shut, nearly taking off my fingers. I get so scared I instinctively run up the stairs to hide under my bed, I can hear his thunderous steps chasing me, screaming at me 'I'm not through with you yet!' I think I'm a failure.

6 years old we're in the car with my mom and sister crossing the bridge to go home. Dad's at work. I heard them worrying about money the night before, taxes or something. My sister, 3 years old and already extremely over weight, starts yelling about wanting candy. Candy costs money. My mom wants to say no but she keeps screaming. I tell my mom not to worry, that I don't want any. We only have to get some for her. She looks relieved. I'm always the thin one, my sisters always the big one.

7 years old, I'm supposed to be asleep. But mom and dad are downstairs fighting. There has been yelling for hours. I pretend I don't hear. Then it gets silent, very silent. I tip toe down the stairs, I know where all the creaks are, which part of the banister won't make noise. If I'm caught I'm dead. I peek through the door way, dad is pacing around the kitchen tables in circles, looking at the ground and shaking his head. Where's mom. I see the light on in the laundry room. I open the door and before it gets slammed in my face I see mom lying on the floor. She can't stop crying. She tells me to go back to bed. So I do. The next day mom makes french toast for breakfast, all smiles. I refuse to eat any.

Grade 2, I decide that I'm fat. My favourite fuscia dress that I got when I was 4 no longer fits. I keep it in the bottom drawer in the bathroom, and try it on before I bathe. I pretend that I'm someone else when I wear it. It's too short, it never changed sizes though, I did. I'm too big. I hate it. I want to wear it, but I can't, because I'm different somehow. I choose not to eat lunch. I get called into my principles office, he asks me why. All I can think of is how angry dad must be at me, why can't I ever do anything right?
I argue with my teacher the next day about how many grapes I have to eat. She won't let me go out for recess until I eat. The more I protest, the more grapes I have to eat. Every time I say no she increases the number by one. Finally I shove 27 grapes in my mouth at once and run out the door wanting to punch her in the face. My teacher is my moms best friend.

Grade 5, I don't like my body. In fact, I hate it. I want it to be smaller. I ask my mom how, she says that some people eat less carbs. I ask her what those are, do I eat those? She tells me yes, pasta is a carb. Pasta. Something I eat every Monday night at Nonna's house. I start doing jumping jacks at the commercial of every show I watch. I only eat one scoop, not two of pasta, leaving most of it on my plate. I cut my penne in half, and chew each piece slowly, praying everyone shuts up soon so we can go home. A month later I decide that I'm happy with my body again. Who knows if I actually lost weight or not, or I just grew...

12 years old, I want a pet. I've been begging both mom and dad for years. Just a cat, not a big deal, not as much work as say, a dog, which is what I really want but I know I am not able to have. I see moms purse sitting at the foot of the step. I think I can do this on my own. I take a 20 out and shove it in my underpants. I run upstairs and hide it under my mattress. I wait, and wait, and wait. No one notices. Easy. A month or two later I have enough money saved to buy a cat, mom and dad will never know. Now I don't have to ask them, now I wont have to hear them tell me no, again. I can get what I want on my own.
I'm having a bath, dad knocks on the door. Yes? He walks in. I try and cover myself but I don't have anything. I try and lie in the tub on my side, so he can't see anything, but its hard. He asks me if I've ever taken any money out of moms wallet. I ask him for a towel. He doesn't say anything for a minute, then decides, no. I keep squirming and this makes him frustrated. He asks me again. I'm so scared. I admit it. I try and explain that I only did it because I wanted it so bad. See how much I care? He takes all the towels out of the bathroom on his way out. I sit in the tub for as long as I can, and then go straight to bed, soaking wet.

Grade 7 I sit on the counter in my bathroom brushing my teeth, naked. I'm getting ready for bed. When I sit, I see a roll of fat that I never used to have. A fat roll. Fat people have those. This makes me fat. I pinch and prod and poke and punch at it, it's still there. An hour or so later I decide that one roll is okay, but two means I need to take drastic action.

Grade 8, a second fat roll appears, seemingly out of nowhere. I don't eat for days. The only comforting thing is that no one can see it. I decide if I can hide it from people, it's okay.

Grade 9, I fall in love with a boy. He tells me he wants to be my first. He's been with lots of other girls, how will I compare? The last girl he was with was a model, even at 14. She goes to my school and is beautifully thin and tall, with long blonde hair. I starve myself for 2 weeks, determined to fit into a pair of jeans I outgrew 6 months before. We plan to spend New Years Eve together, all I eat that day is one pruscuitto roll-up appy  mom has made. I see him and he tells me I look great. My heart is beaming. We start drinking. I keep drinking, I think it impresses him. Never in my life have I ever drank as much as I did that night. Grey goose, Bacardi, Whiskey, Bourbon, Waterbottles filled with mixed drinks stolen from parents liquor cabinet. No food. Next thing I know my pants are at my knees, and me and this boy are in a ditch off the road. I have no idea where I am. There is dirt in my panties. I'm covered in dirt. My legs are bruised. There's a used condom next to me, my mom is calling me. She's in hysterics. Next flash - I'm puking on the side of the highway. I wake up the next morning sore all over, and the boy won't take any of my phone calls or messages.

Grade 10, I decide I want to loose 10 pounds. I start hanging out with various different social groups. This makes it easier to hide how little I am eating at lunch. I tell my best friend, she tells me that she is on a diet too. All she has eaten that day so far was a package of animal crackers, 120 cals. I brag that all I've had are carrot sticks. We make a secret competition to loose weight, spending hours walking around in shorts in December shivering to try and burn more calories. Eventually we drift apart, and never speak of our 'competition' again.

Grade 10, I have a friend over to my house and we play volleyball in my back yard. My mom and sister come home from school, I forgot to ask my mom if I could have a friend over. She says its fine, not to worry about it. I spend the rest of the afternoon and evening terrified of what dad will do. 2 AM, I'm still lying in bed awake. I hear him pounding down the hallway, throws open my bedroom door, yanks my covers off of my bed and shakes me to look at him. He screams and spits at me to NEVER do anything without telling him EVER again. I'm so scared I can't speak. He thinks I'm not listening. He shakes me more. Where's mom? I am trembling and I think I nod. He looks at me, this calmness washes over him and he tells me he loves me, and to go back to sleep. I have never been more scared in my entire life, to this day, than I was that night.

Grade 11, my mom tells me she's going to leave my dad. It's January, my sister, mother and I have just gotten over an awful awful flu. She tells me that she's going to leave him in April, once she gets her 'ducks in a row'. I am over joyed, over the moon. Finally, validation. Finally, acknowledgement. Finally. Finally. Finally. I wait patiently, desperately trying to help in any way I can to speed up the process. I want out. I want him to stop watching me.
Weeks before she tells him, Andrew and I have started seeing each other. I am supposed to meet him for a date. My dad refuses to let me. We get into a screaming fight because I won't clean all of the counters with windex for the umpteenth time after I made 1 slice of toast. The only thing I've eaten that day. I tell my mom I need to get out, now. She agrees. She sneaks me out of the house, I meet Andrew and try not to tell him, but eventually do. Mom tells me that dad seemed manic when she came back home. He said nothing, just calmly got out the cheerios and have his nightly bowl of dry cereal, and then became overly enthralled and entertained and animated with American Idol...

Grade 11 I fall in love with another boy. He's a year older, student class president. Cool, hipster, accomplished, respected. An actor, a film maker, 100 pounds stick thin. I look like a balloon next to him. I stop eating again. Sipping coffee for breakfast, diet coke for lunch and chicken broth for dinner. I spend hours on the phone with him, absolutely obsessed. I loose around 15 pounds. I go to a party in tight black skinny jeans and a small white tank top with black pumps. Someone asks me if I have lost weight, they tell me I look great. I let myself have a few gummy bears along with my vodka. The boy won't talk to me. Something is wrong with me. Another boy starts kissing me. I don't know how to make it stop. My boy walks in. The boy kissing me is his best friend. I don't even know his name. I go to talk to him and he pushes me away. I'm dirty. He runs away, literally. I follow him and he is crying. He tells me he was falling in love with me. Was. I have been in love with him for months, and I realize everything I've wanted and worked to get I had all along. I assume I never could have it, and it gets thrown away by accident. He never talked to me again.
I go home that night and eat 4 lean cuisines, 2 cartons of sorbet, leftovers from 2 dinners, a jug of orange juice. My best friend is with me, she's sleeping over. I have a bathroom en suite attached to my bedroom. I can't purge. I hate myself. This was the beginning of the 60 pounds I gained.

A week later, 2 weeks after mom leaves dad, they start going to therapy, together. Just to make sure he is being honest about his 'habits'. Thats what we call them. Nothing wrong, just a habit. I sit at the table, about to eat lunch. Mom tells me that her and dad are getting back together. I throw my food on the ground. They want me to eat. I want them to never have anything they want ever again. I vow not to eat.

I hear about hoodia, it stops making you hungry. I start throwing up my dinner. Dad moves back in with us. No control. No decisions. No change. No elephant in the room. I am told I am the problem. Why can't I just be happy with the loving family I have? Why can't I be happy for mom and dad? Because dad is evil. Poor teenage girl, going through the motions of puberty, thats all it is, acting out. Let it go, it will eventually fade away. I am told that I'm wrong, that something is wrong with me, every day.

Grade 12, 145 lbs, I move out of my house. I can't stand dad. He becomes more impossible to live with. I move to a friends house, and vaguely release details to her parents. My friend is bulimic. Her mother is a 'recovering' anoretic. Her sister is severely overweight. I pretend I don't notice. Dad is a great salesman, and so every conversation that takes place between the adults tends to go in his favor. Being manipulative is the nature of the devil, daddy. I'm told I can stay for as long as I want. But after Christmas dad has booked a cruise to jamaica for us, if I come home. My sister hates me. She refuses to give up a vacation because I am throwing a temper tantrum. I don't want to be hated, so I go home. I don't talk, I don't eat. I excercise constantly because I have so much pent up frustration. When I open my mouth no one listens, I'm crazy after all.

A year after I graduate, down to 120 and dropping, mom and dad sit my sister and I down and they tell us they are separating. Dad is moving out, tonight. I'm in shock. I don't know how to feel. Stunned. My sister runs to her room and threatens to slice her wrist. My dad goes for a drive. My mom starts crying. I still haven't moved. No one notices. My mom begs me to try to talk to her. "Please, do something. I don't know what to do. Help me. I'm scared." I still haven't moved off the couch. I tell her I have a staff meeting at work. I haven't eaten at all that day. I go to my meeting and everyone else is having a McFlurry. I refuse to eat, to put anything in my mouth, until people start caring what comes out of it.

Mom never tells me that I was right about him.

Dad moves back in, his name is on the deed to the house so we cannot legally do anything. He makes it his new job to make life as uncomfortable as possible. We aren't his puppets anymore, we won't do what he tells us, but he can make it awful hard for us to live. He tells me about how drunk he got the night before, '8 martini's later and your dad is still standing!'. He tells me about how hard he works himself at the gym, that he has a 24" waist, tells me I should be proud of him. Tells me if I had seen him I would be proud. Why? He knows I hate him.

I can't take it anymore. I decide to move. I tell mom I want to go travelling. I hear about job opportunities teaching english, but it takes a month to get a visa. I talk to Andrew about this. He's been spending almost all of his nights at my house. We sleep in the same bed, tangled up like lovers but fully clothed. I like having him hold me, he likes having me to hold. I become smaller and smaller, he spends more and more time watching me. I tell him I could be leaving soon, and he looks broken. I tell him I can't handle my dad. He thinks I'm lying. After all, Andrew thinks I am unbreakable, I am so much stronger than I think I am, I can handle my dad. But I can't. I tell him I'm leaving in 3 weeks on a park bench one night in the end of August. He tells me he's going to walk home and all I want to do is chase after him. I let him go.

I book my flight. I'm supposed to leave for the airport in a few hours, Andrew hasn't come to say goodbye yet. Finally he shows up just as I zip up my suitcase. He flops on my bed like its just another day. He's the last person I see. He hugs me and I never, ever want to move.  I cry on the airplane.

Dad decides that he's coming with us to the airport. Because whatever he wants he gets. I don't say a word. He tries to hug me before I go through security, all I manage to say is no.

I come home for Christmas. I have sushi with a friend of mine, purge in the bathroom at the back of the restaurant, secretly thanking the Gods that they have individual bathrooms instead of shared. I come home and theres a moving truck in my driveway. Dad finally decided to move out. Legally he is allowed to stay in the house for 12 months, he makes it to 11.5 and decides that December 23rd, 2 days before Christmas, is the appropriate time to move his things, and some of our things, out of the house, without telling anyone. I tell him to go to hell.

I'm back home, for good this time. I live with my mom and sister, in a new house. Dad shows up uninvited and walks in through the front door like he lives here too. I panic, does he live here? Mom looks startled, everyone is tense. He crosses the house in a second and hugs me, a huge smile on his face. He tells me its good to see me. I ask him what the hell he's doing here. He just smiles, I don't think he even hears me.

I try, I fail.
I'm wrong.
Even when I am right.
I'm all wrong.