The bad word

It continues.  I go away for the weekend and she suffers.  Tonight was bad.  She was beyond reason and angry and belligerent and not herself.  She had not eaten for 4 1/2 hours.  She went to youth group with Cate.  She had two snacks with her but did not eat them.  I offered her food when we got home and she became disrespectful and mad.  Flatly refusing to eat.  Her dad got mad.  Then I got mad.  I yelled and forced her to sit down and began to feed her.  She ate.  She began to feel in control of her feelings.

Then she apologized.  Again.  I was in tears, still angry.  I told her that she would eat when I told her to and what I gave her to eat.  She had no choice in the matter anymore.  I am tired.  I am mad.  I am angry that she lets her LBS takes control over her, over us.

She says she will eat.  I will see.  Tomorrow is a new day and I will give her food to eat.  It all sounds so simple. Eat and you won't feel bad.  You won't have to apologize later.  You will have a sound mind, be in control of your feelings.

But there is a lion in her that roars at the mention of FOOD.  It's become a bad word.  I am sorry, Nan,  but food is your medicine.