Updated: Aug. 13, 2016
Originally Published: Aug. 13, 2016
What do you do when the unwelcome guest, Ed, shows up for dinner? I thought I had closed the door on him—twice—but he always seems to find a way back in.
Our first encounter was when I was just a naïve 18-year-old—he must’ve sensed my need for a companion. We bumped into each other on a late-night stroll back to my dorm, and though I should’ve been frightened, he felt oddly like family. For years, we would frequent the Off Campus Deli, where I’d nervously tear the crust off my turkey sub while pondering life.
Together, we’d wander the campus until the early hours, traversing Spring Street and College Street, just so I wouldn’t feel alone. His presence seemed considerate at the time, as he paced slightly ahead of me while I trained for marathons—10 miles a day, 7 days a week. On Friday nights, while my friends indulged in pizza and beer, he would snuggle up next to me, whispering sweet nothings. But as time went on, this companionship grew stifling. I found myself unable to escape his clutches, feeling suffocated by his presence. Eventually, I mustered the courage to ask him to leave.
Years later, at 37, we crossed paths again by sheer chance. We were both older and had changed, yet it felt easy to fall back into our old rhythm. He’d keep me company while I sketched, waited in the car after therapy to share his ‘wisdom,’ and entertained me with his tales as I pushed my food around the plate. Each narrative echoed the same theme: he was my lifeline, as if I were invisible without him. The irony was not lost on me, so once more, I asked him to go.
Time spent with Ed was strangely productive; it gave me a false sense of control over the chaos in my life—like dealing with the aftermath of an assault at 18 or navigating a disastrous marriage at 37. Ed was my confidant through it all, but ultimately, he nearly destroyed me. I came to realize that his ultimate goal was my demise.
Now at 48, Ed has crashed my dinner table again, this time uninvited, as he lingers around my own 18-year-old daughter. I watch her pick the potatoes out of her clam chowder and peel the crust off her grilled cheese, arranging it to look like she’s eaten more than she actually has. I can almost hear Ed’s familiar whispers, trying to ensnare her just as he did me.
I find myself pacing through town during those late nights without the kids, contemplating how to save her life—again. As I wander Parker Street, Main Street, and the village near the Baptist Church, I wonder what I’m supposed to do when Ed shows up for dinner again tomorrow. And as I mull over this impossible situation, I can’t help but think… maybe if I just lose a little weight.
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Summary:
In this reflective piece, Emily Carter explores her tumultuous relationship with her eating disorder, personified as “Ed.” She recounts her experiences from adolescence to adulthood, revealing how Ed once provided a false sense of comfort and control but ultimately became a destructive force in her life. As she navigates her daughter’s early struggles, she contemplates how to protect her from the same fate.