Four months after dad's funeral...
Your POV
Often we don't realize how much pain were in. We think we're okay, but as soon as the slightest thing happens we break. We crumble. We shatter. It feels like we have no one to run to, so we pick up bad habits. We overeat or not eat all. We drink. We get high. Doesn't matter what drug it is as long as we don't feel the same way as before. We over work ourselves to death or we don't work at all. We sulk.
As a black man, I was told not to cry. Never to cry. I was told to man up. Stop being a bitch. Men don't cry. You don't acknowledge pain. You don't acknowledge the thing hurting you. You bury it deep inside, let it eat away at you and you turn into a completely different person. But you never fucking cry.
I picked up a habit.
I had started binge eating like crazy, I stopped answering my phone and I stopped talking to people at all. If it wasn't Myron, I didn't talk to anyone. I shut the love of my life out. I'd just sit there and eat. I'd order. boxes of junk food and take out. It would be gone in less than a day, so I'd just order do more. I did it every single day. Myron would take me to my doctors appointment, so I'd get up early to throw all of the trash away.
But before my last appointment, I didn't get to clean up in time because I wasn't feeling well. Myron came in the house and he gasped.
"Y/N, what is all this?" he asked.
"Trash," I mumbled feeling the need to vomit.
"You ate this much junk food. This looks like damn near a months worth of trash," he said and I held my head down in embarrassment.
"How long have you been eating like this?" he asked me.
"A few months now," I mumbled once again before rushing towards the bathroom to empty my stomach out completely. It felt like I was vomiting for hours. It was painful.
"Yo, what did you eat? You burning up like crazy," he said touching my forehead.
"I don't remember. It's really a big blur," I told him and proceed to vomit again.
"I'll worry about the trash later. Let's get you to a doctor," he carefully helped me up and I lost my balance because I was hit with a strong wave of dizziness, but luckily he caught me. I brushed my teeth and we left to go to the doctor. The entire ride I felt like I was going to vomit, but I stopped it from coming out until I was able to get out of the car.
At that point, the only thing that was coming up was stomach acid. The acid began to burn my throat making everything just feel so much worse. We checked in for my appointment and we were escorted to the room where we waited for the doctor. When the doctor came in, her smile immediately dropped.
"You don't look so well. What's wrong?" Dr. Reid questioned.
"I think I have food poisoning. I can't remember what I ate," I answered and she began her assessment.
"I'm going to check on your leg first and then we're going to tackle the possible food poisoning," she told me and I nodded my head, which was a bad idea. The dizziness had hit me again making my close my eyes tightly. She finished checking out my leg and went straight to the possible food poisoning. Turned out that it was food poisoning and I was feeling like shit.
"Here are the prescription that you're going to need. Stay as hydrated as you can and take the medicine," Dr. Reid said and I nodded. Myron and I left. My phone was being blown up. It was Megan. I sighed turning my phone off. When I got home, Myron was on my ass.
"Y/N, you know you have hypertension. You can't be eating all that shit. It's bad for you and it could possible kill you, dude," Myron said.
"I don't care, Myron," I told him.
"You should. We just buried daddy and I'm not trying to bury my baby brother any fucking time soon," he yelled at me and I rolled my eyes.
"Stop worrying about me. I'm fine," I told him and got up to walk away, but he pulled me back to him.
"Bro, you need to go to therapy and talk to someone. You don't think I see what you're doing? You're binge eating trying to suppress your feelings because dad died. You did it when we were little when grandpa died. You gave everyone a big scare because we thought we were going to lose you. Do not start that shit again," he said and left the house.
Did I take in what he said? Yes. Did I listen? No. Eating was the only thing that was making me feel good. I needed to feel something else other than sadness and anger, so I ate.
But it did come back to bite me in the ass.
Sorry for any grammatical errors.
just a filler.
