Dear Dad,

According to my therapist, I'm supposed to write a letter about you because...I have nothing to say about you when he asks. He says that there is obviously something there, some underlying issue with my feelings towards you because I have nothing to say about them when he asks. The thing is, that's just it. You haven't been much of anything in my life. I suppose it's not your fault, is it? You've always called when you could. Always been nice to me when you were there. You usually pay your child support on time. You send me birthday presents in the mail. You visit for Christmas, you try to be interested in my life.

Sometimes it makes me annoyed because I wish you would just give up. That's sad, isn't it, and I know you won't because...you just couldn't You're dad and you want to be a good dad, but you can't, okay? You can't be a good dad if you're not here. You can't be a good dad if you can't even tell that half of everything I tell you is a lie. Do you know about how I hate myself? Do you know about the naked pictures I sent to some random guy? Do you know that I'm not daddy's little girl? You probably think I haven't even had my first kiss yet, and I'd like to keep it that way.

You're always so excited to hear the good things in my life, most of them I make up. You're always ready to ask me what my favorite color is, which you do every time I see you because every time you forget. I don't blame you, I never would. You're doing your best. But sometimes that's not enough.

I want you to know that I don't have a dad. I have a nice accquaitance who I talk to every once in a while and sends me a check for my birthday once a year. Our relationship is no more personal than my relationship with a distant cousin. I don't regret not having a dad. I've never been in a situation where I've thought, "God, I wish dad were here," or, "if only I had a dad to help me through this."

Maybe that's because thanks to you and many other people and incidents in my life I've learned that there's usually never going to be anyone there to make it better. I've learned to stick up for myself, to get things done for me. And I've lost just as much as I've gained learning that.

I remember one time when I think you caught a glimpse of the true me. Just a little bit of it. I got a call from you in the hospital. It was the first time you had heard anything about me having an eating disorder and I remember laughing because the girl who answered the pay phone in the hospital that you called me in was the "craziest" of us all and I think she said something about soup to you.

Anyway, I remember for the first time in forever...you had nothing to say. Except for that you were sorry. Which you don't have to be. You have nothing to be sorry for because you haven't affected me in any significant way because I don't care enough about you for you to have the ablility to do that. I'm sorry. I'm the one who should be sorry. I just remember you seemed shocked. You didn't talk to me like you usually do. Other times you would talk to me as if I were an adult, I was the young woman you were always so pleased with because I was tall and thin and I made good grades. For once you talked to me like I was your daughter, you were scared and I was a little girl...not a young woman, not the adult you always saw me as. I think that was the first time you realized that I am not perfect. I think you felt bad because your son molested me and you left my mom so you thought you brought my eating issues to me. I have no room in my life for pity. Just love, which is something we don't have for each other. Plain and simple.

Now that I think about it, I don't think you've ever seen me cry, have you? I've seen you cry before. I feel bad because you always seem to be quite open with me, like you're trying. But see, you're not trying to a real relationship. You're trying to form something like a brady bunch family thing. If you ever want to get close to me, it's not going to be ideal or happy and it definitely won't be perfect. See, I partially blame myself for our lack of closeness. But that's because I don't trust you, Dad. I don't trust you because I've watched my mom cry over you, I've watched her hurt because you haven't been here. I'm fine without you but sometimes I think she's not.

I do not want to get close to you, and I'm sorry. I'm sorry that you're not going to get the perfect daughter. I'm in no way ideal or perfect or daddy's little girl. But then again, I didn't end up with a perfect dad either. Fair's fair.

Sincerely,
Amy

So, in my last post I was really exhilerated because I was doing good. I was confident that I would overcome and have dinner, just a small TV, lean cuisine dinner. Something so simple. I couldn't possibly screw that up...right? Wrong.

I was so certain that I could just eat it and relax and watch some TV and act normal. I hadn't had anything else all day besides vegies. I mean, come on...jeez. But, as soon as I was no more than half way through my chicken and veggies meal, I just couldn't take it...I started breathing quick and getting nervous. I ran to the kitchen and threw it all up. I couldn't bring myself to finish the rest. And I spent the next hour or so pacing around and deciding what this meant.

This means I'm a lot worse off then I thought. I am not in control of this. This also means that I'm in denial because last night I ignored it and went to bed, and even considered not mentioning this in my blog because I didn't want to let everyone down. To the people who read this...I hate letting you down. I don't know if anyone reads this, but you have no idea how many times I think about you. When denying food or counting calories, I stop myself and think of you, the reader....what hope will I have to tell you if I do this? That's what I always ask myself.

And that's great, I think, it's nice to have someone to live for. If there is anyone, I mean. But the problem is that I can't keep living and doing things for other people. It's the same thing as starving myself because I don't want people to think I'm fat. It's the same thing, and I need to stop looking to others for approval of my lifestyle. I have to start living for me, for once.
So...I'm not perfect. And I was making progress yesterday. And today has actually been good. I did throw up a little but I was able to stop myself. So I've had a meal today, and that sounds like not much but it's progress.
And I have to keep making progress. For my family, for my friends, for you, and most of all, for myself. I forget that time to time, that it's my life. I tend to forget.