Living with anorexia

That Sunday feeling

When I was growing up, Sunday was an important day for our family.  We always sat together at lunchtime for a traditional roast dinner.  My mum would be in the kitchen, chopping potatoes, peeling carrots, preparing the meat. I can remember the smell.  The beautiful smell of roast potatoes and cooking chicken.  The smell that filled the house, as we anticipated that delicious meal.  I loved it.

Those Sunday lunches punctuated my childhood.  A weekly routine of indulgent food and family love.

I don’t often go back and read my old posts.  But this morning, one caught my eye.

Sunday Morning Coming Down

I don’t know why.  Perhaps it was the reference to Sunday.  It’s a post I wrote in mid-December, about my ambivalent views towards recovery.  The title is a vague attempt at wordplay, taken verbaitim from a song sung so painfully by Johnny Cash, and used to refer to my weight coming down, and the conflicted emotions that causes me.

I love Johnny Cash’s music, and this morning, inspired by my own post, I listened to that song for the first time in a long time.

And the lyrics hit me in a way that they never have before.

“Then I walked across the street and

caught the Sunday smell

of someone frying chicken.”

Today, my mum will cook that same lunch that defined my childhood.  The nostalgic scent of roasting vegetables is already wafting up to my room.  But today, for me, that lunch will be nothing more than a nostalgic scent. I will not eat it.  I will sit alone, separated from my family by the prison of anorexia.  I will hear the distant chatter.  The laughter.  I will be apart from the fun, the food, the love.

“And Lord it took me back to something

that I lost somehow

somewhere a long the way”


3 thoughts on “That Sunday feeling

  1. I live in a large complex so I can get a fairly good walk along all the halls. I smell different things being cooked and wonder about them, about what they are making, about what it’s like to make a meal for the family and sit down to eat it. What’s that? Sometimes it takes time for me to identify what they are cooking. I know it is something familiar but I just can’t place it… it’s just been too long since I’ve done that sort of cooking.

    We have a coffee hour in my building on Tuesday mornings. People take turns bringing snacks and treats. This past Tuesday they had some kind of danish filled with chocolate. There I sat watching the chocolate ooze from the danishes as they took bites. It’s hard not to stare. Fortunately, right at that moment, I got a call from the insurance company talking to me about the eating disorder program. The irony… 😛

    Liked by 1 person

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