My dad died on Valentine’s Day from a cancer in his brain that he fought for a year and a half. I’ll talk about that more one day, but what I want to say now comes from the buildup and the fallout. What I want to say is not about the suffering and turmoil that I watched my dad and my family experience for that year and a half, or the milestones we hit every day that I never mentioned, like the last day he had ice cream or went outside. I want to talk about him and I will. But today, I want to talk about the aftermath. People don’t know what to say about death and dying. They tell you they’re sorry and they could never do what you’re doing, they tell you how strong you are and graceful you’re being, admire how you’re “back to work” or “still able to have fun”. Grievers are told time and time again, nobody knows what the right thing to say is. And we have grace. Giggle it off and nod our heads, tell them thank you and it’s okay. Because it is okay. They aren’t doing anything wrong t...
My entire life, I have been SO scared of eating. That’s just the way it’s been. I was so scared of getting fat (again, because little baby me “came out like a ten pound killer chicken” as my family refers lol). But I remember offering to let someone borrow my shirt, and they responded “no way your clothes are way too big for me.” And I felt stupid being the only kid who wanted seconds. I would go to bed thinking about what I wanted for breakfast and just be mad that I couldn’t think about anything else. But when I finally started getting taller and my belly started slimming out I felt proud, of all things. And I was surrounded by people who told me I should be proud. Later in life still, I got scared all over again. I always knew about the freshman 15 lbs. My sister went to university first and that’s pretty much all she talked about, how she was scared of gaining weight. I began to think there wasn’t anything else she was learning about in school. So when I came to univ...