Eating Disorder Stories
Dad and Me by Sara
He was the bravest smartest and strongest person in my eyes. He was the one who taught me how to swim, ride a bike, and climb trees. He was my father. I remember how he would carry me in his strong and loving arms, how we would go to the park nearby and climb our favorite tree. How he would play his guitar all day and I would never tired of listening to him. He was my idol, my hero.
My father is of average height and built. He was tan due to his love for outdoor sports. I always knew that I was the apple of his eye. Whenever he spoke of me to his friends, there was the unmistakable pride in his voice. He had many hopes and dreams for me but never did he push me into doing something I didn't like. My dad had been a music teacher for as long as I could remember. He worked six and a half days a week. On his day off, he would bring me anywhere I wanted. His love for sports was passed onto me and more often than not, we would end up at the swimming pool. He had a talent for music which I unfortunately didn't inherit, that was passed on to my brother. Since the age of 3, my brother and I took piano lessons which he excelled in. Dad on the other hand believed that I was the one with the true talent and would sit patiently with me while I practiced.
My father was a marathon runner, As a kid, I remember him coming home around nine every night and after a quick change of clothes, he was off on his nightly run. One night, I accompanied him. Though we didn't run far ( I was only 6) he gave me the hope that one day I too could be a marathon runner. He always made me think I could be anyone I wanted to False hopes? I don't know.
When I was 10, things between my mom and him took a turn for the worst. At that tender age, I was able to comprehend what was going on but I undressed that he was often angry at her for some reason. unknown to me. The biggest shock of my life came just before I left for my first trip abroad. It was a Tuesday afternoon, I can still remember it till this day. My mom was scolding me because my room was in a mess. My dad came to my defense and the next thing I knew they were arguing. I don't know what made him so angry but I remember him hitting my mom on the head. That was the first time he had ever hit her. She threatened to leave and all I could do was stand there and watch her walk out with tears in my eyes. She promised to be back before I left and she kept her word.
The next few years were a blur. I don't remember much of my relationship with dad. Only when I reached the age of 13 did I start disliking him. Sometimes I could talk to him about anything but other times, I couldn't;' even bear to look at him. Strange? I know. I always wondered why I have such mixed feelings about him. I know I hurt him by doing so but I also don't know why I resent him so much. I do feel guilty for treating him this way but that doesn't stop me from giving him the cold shoulder. Even today, I still have this aching feeling inside every time I see him. I long for things to be back the way they were when I was young. But somehow I feel they would never be.
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