During my college years, I faced a traumatic event that led me to seek solace in food. This coping mechanism spiraled into a serious eating disorder. My mother uncovered my struggle while I was home for the summer, and upon returning to school that fall, I began attending weekly therapy sessions with a counselor specializing in eating disorders. Dr. Mark, a former military officer with an unexpectedly gentle demeanor, guided me through my difficulties. Just as I was starting to regain a sense of control over my life, he dropped a bombshell: “It’s time to involve your family.”
I can’t recall how we arrived at Dr. Mark’s office or walked into the session, but the moment is vivid in my memory. My mother appeared anxious and pale; my father was quiet and composed; and my sister looked confused and frightened. As the discussion unfolded, Dr. Mark asked me to illustrate the dynamics of my relationships with each family member using lines—one line for weak connections and two lines for strong ones.
I confidently drew two lines to represent my bond with my mom, knowing it was solid. My relationship with my sister was similarly strong; despite our childhood squabbles, we had become close friends during high school, so I again drew two lines. However, when it was time to assess my relationship with my father, I hesitated. Tears welled in my eyes as I hesitantly sketched a single, shaky line and lowered my pencil, staring at my feet.
“Why only one line?” Dr. Mark probed. The silence in the room felt heavy, amplifying my anxiety. “Because I never feel like I am good enough for him,” I blurted out. Instantly, regret washed over me, and I wished I could retract those words. I had unfairly blamed him for the turmoil in my teenage mind. I failed to recognize the unwavering support of a father who cared for our family and loved my sister and me selflessly. In that moment, I was blind to the reality.
After the session, my father was tasked with writing a letter to express his feelings about me. Days later, I received a small stack of hotel notepad sheets in the mail. Reflecting on it now, I can only imagine how challenging it was for my dad, a man of few words, to articulate his emotions in writing. His letter contained everything I had longed to hear, including his commitment to better express his love for me. He expressed hope that one day, we could draw that second line together.
I still cherish that letter, keeping it in a special spot in my closet. Despite not being at fault, my dad took responsibility for our relationship’s struggles without hesitation. He continued to support me with quiet, unwavering love. Years later, when my marriage crumbled, it was my father who helped me navigate my finances to avoid bankruptcy. He even offered to come to Atlanta to bring me back home. Through these experiences, I learned to recognize love in its many forms. When I eventually met my second husband, I was prepared to engage with my heart and mind, rather than just my senses.
The issue wasn’t that my dad didn’t express his feelings; rather, it was my expectation that words alone would provide me with the love I craved. I had to learn to see the myriad ways he demonstrated his love.
This is a lesson I intend to pass on to my son:
- Love is someone who refills your soap when it’s running low.
- Love is someone who fills your gas tank so you don’t have to.
- Love is someone who lifts you up instead of tearing you down.
- Love is someone who stands by your side and champions your victories.
- Love is someone who reassures you, “I believe in you. Together, we can do this.”
- Love is realizing that “I love you” is just the beginning.
It took me some time, but I have come to understand that my father’s genuine, steadfast love is worth far more than any number of verbal affirmations. Dad, I hope you know I drew that second line long ago.
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Summary:
The author reflects on a past eating disorder and her journey to understanding her father’s love. Through therapy, she learns to recognize the quiet yet profound ways her dad showed his affection. This journey culminates in a realization about love’s true nature, which she aims to teach her son.